Long Scotch Poems
Long Scotch Poems. Below are the most popular long Scotch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scotch poems by poem length and keyword.
" Sci-Fi Bar Jokes & Riddles ... "
( 1 Tim. 1: 11)
(1.)
"Star Wars Bar ..."
A Jedi Knight and a Wookie, walk into a bar ...
The Jedi tells the bartender to keep the drinks coming.
Around dawn, when the Jedi is too drunk to think,
the bartender, then tells them both, its time to pay
their tab. Then the Jedi, turns to his buddy, the Wookie
and asks, "Do You Mind?"
------- ------- ------ -------
(2)
"Dune's Sand Bar ..."
On Arrakis, the desert planet known as Dune,
A Duke and a Baron, walks into a bar ...
Now, which one orders the biggest bottle of Mezcal?
------- ------ ------- -------
(3)
"The Matrix-Mixer Bar ..."
Neo and Morpheus, walk into a bar ...
On that night, every patron, gets their first drink free
Now, the selection is between two drink choices on
the list: They can choose either the 'Crimson Cocktail'
or the 'Blue Kamikaze' ... Which did Neo pick?
------- ------- ------- ------
(4)
"Stargate Symbol Bar ..."
Col. O'Neill and Teal'c, walk into the Stargate
and wine-up in a bar (he-he) ... in a world
very much like our own. While there, they
socialize with the locals, sample strange brews
and get very intoxicated. However, not to worry,
on this world, the bartender is used to visitors
who can't handle the native liquors ... So,
the bar has their own taxi, on standby
for such occasions. So he dials the cab.
But before the cabdriver comes, the taxi
has to be gased up. The question is:
"What gas station does he use?"
------- ------- ------- -------
(5)
"Barsoom/Mars' Whiskey Bar ..."
A Thern and a Thark, walk into a bar ...
They join John Carter, who was drinking Cutty Sark
and a Martini. Also there, is The Princess, who
sips on deja-blue water and a shot of Royal Crown.
The Thern, gives his order for a glass of Jameson & Gin
And the Thark, orders: Jim Bean and Jack Daniels
... and a Bourbon ... and a Beer
------- ------- ------- -------
(6)
"Star Trek's Hit The Deck"
As They Journey Into Darkness & Each Distant Star
Kirk & Spock Walks Into The Enterprize's Bar
And Tho' The Ship May Shake & Warp-Drive-Drop
Mr. Spock Keeps As Cool As A Glass of Ciroc
And Captain Kirk, Just Orders A Scotch On The Rocks
('Cause Scotty Takes Care of All The Enterprize's Stock)
------- ------- ------- -------
Poem/Jokes by: MoonBee
Form:
Theme for collaboration suggested by Tim Smith
Two enormous old toads crossed the road
On Tom’s back lounged Thomasina toad
Both are ugly and warty
Thomasina’s so naughty
As her bowels on his back she’d download
06-16-17
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
When Thomasina toad dumped on old Tom
He thought her poop explosion was a bomb
He hopped in the air
gave her a mean stare
shouting, "I'm not taking you home to Mom!"
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
Ribbit rubbit robbit 'n ro
this crazy toad has got to go
She's turning quite mean -
Fifty shades of green
No time to chat but still does crow
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
"Why don't we do it in the road?"
Said Thomas, the old horny toad
Thomasina hissed,
"Get a load of this!"
and a "blessing" on him bestowed
WRITTEN BY LIM'RIK FLATS
Thomasina was on a road trip
Her taxi was Tom's back she'd grip
But she strained as she held
And her bottom expelled
So she said "I've just left you a tip"
WRITTEN BY RAY GRIDLEY
Tom and Thomasina were the perfect pair
They were ancient toads without a care
He had a huge wart
She gives a mean fart
Anyone in her vicinity better beware!
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
Now Tom was an over achiever
He wanted the lady, not leave her
He sprayed his back with Scotch-Guard
and rubbed down with lots of lard
the dumper was now the receiver
WRITTEN BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Tom gave Thomasina the boot
Got sick from the smell of her poot
told her to get lost
right after he tossed
She gave him the one finger salute
WRITTEN BY DANIEL TURNER
Thomas and Thomasina loved to hear
the waterboatmen rubbing their gear
Thomas tried and started to croak
causing Thomasina to choke
you two will never get it right I fear
WRITTEN BY SEREN ROBERTS
When T'sina hopped on for a ride
Old Thomas reminded his bride,
"Though you're my sweet dish,
on the road we'll get squished",
"Just do it!" was her terse reply.
WRITTEN BY CRAIG CORNISH
Thomasina and Tom a heavy load
Lingered a little too long on the road
He could have kissed her all night
shocked at the oncoming lights
Croak and ribbit was heard; two flattened toads
WRITTEN BY EVE ROPER
PLEASE SOUP MAIL ME ANY SUBMISSIONS FOR THE COLLABORATION
06-16-17
Little Lilly wanted to go, to the playground, to have some fun the other day.
And all the other Trolls wanted to tag along, for it looked like fun, they said.
So we went at dusk, for our first try, so no wee ones, would be anywhere near.
For you know, Trolls can play pretty hard, and I didn’t know, just what to fear.
I quickly found a bench as home base, for those who needed to have a time out.
Anyone who couldn’t play gently, or broke anything, found they’d get the rout.
First the sandbox became a deep, dark hole, from which to pop up, to scare, thereat.
Of course, dodge ball became club ball, so you can guess what happened with that.
King of the Hill was a really big thing, since they are all, the most territorial, by half.
Surprisingly, the slide was all-OK, but trouble came from underneath, as they laughed.
They wanted to exact a toll, of course, in the middle, as you passed above, quite brief.
The merry-go-round made them dizzy, knocking everyone down, in a domino motif.
The Seesaws became a great big catapult… to the other far side of the playground.
The monkey bars! Well, they aren’t monkeys, that’s for darned certain, I expound!
They tripped, fell, and smacked themselves senseless with no ones’ help, I ensure.
It could’ve been climbed much better, if not covered in so much drool, I’m sure.
Swings became broken as they pushed the others, all the way to the moon, oops!
And basketball became a slam-dunk, as unfortunately they didn’t fit in the hoops.
Hop Scotch took coordination, and you have to be able to wait your turn, too…
So, as in tag, they started bumping and fighting, until becoming a crazy piled up dado.
Races started more fights as all wanted to win, and threw everyone out of their way!
Hearing a laugh, I turned around to see Grandpa Troll, was ready to stop the moray.
He stood near the bench, as I stood looking up, amazedly, at what they had done.
Now, there were other benches everywhere, but they were piled high, on a single one.
I’ll never truly understand the brain of a Troll, for them a playground’s just not fun.
And they don’t play gently, and are bigger, than our wee folk, as I had already known.
They spent the night, putting things to right, even better than before they’d been broke.
And I finally took them home, to find OTHER things, designed especially, for OUR folk.
Staring in the mirror when I'm down with these scissors I found.
With my wrists out and prescription lids littered around.
I've scribbled out a bitter letter in wicked accounts and written down twisted sentences in crimson.
I drown in no bounds it got me tripping out grouchy for outlets.
Now my hound pulls at my trousers.
When I'm face down drowsy with a mouth full of downers.
I'm pale looking clownish.
I ain't clowning around, see my self esteem floundering.
Out for the count as hells demons seen prowling around me proudly twisting and dancing entrancing.
Slipping away fast last vision left glancing enhanced with a mixture of doubt.
Knowing there's no one to laugh with and be found here alone with a sinister frown.
I've got to get out.
Haunted in this mysterious house that time forgot.
A place where damp rises and shrouded in all types of moss and lichen, rotting with the slime from condensation.
A sodden formed Forrest where I'm under sedation.
A clock work decision I watch myself gazing transfixed on my mission across amazing mazes.
As dreams fade into sight I stay silently praying.
Embracing the night watching day light escaping.
Remain in this safe haven I'm taken away safely remaining unshaken, grey and unshaven, eight shades of my aura shadows the ravens.
The creature with talons and the beak of eagle seen clutching a talisman to defeat it's evil.
I see through people. Phycic and tight lipped.
Leaving hindsight to guide you through life is wisest.
Am I dying or buying my time in this crises like I'm finally deep in abyss.
Analysing my past thinking did I even exist.
Forever with bliss since I slipped away tearful
Surviving myself I won't ever be fearfully trapped in this labyrinth with Pan and he knows me ghostly he came close cosey and held me closely through apocalypse start dropping atom bombs not stopping Babylon.
God got him banished like exhiled angels deep into faranheit heat like my minds a scotch bonnet.
The child of the scorch trials in the maze at night.
Was made strict then was bitten by count
Dracula.
Come the blood sucker parasite cancerous spanning round my brain like the legs of a tarantula.
Tendrils gargantuan.
Attaching the canula straight from the ambulance.
Inserting the catheter.
Wired like capacitors.
Body kept alive with 240 volt adaptors.
Summer of 1990,
Ill winds had blown all year,
I was feeling kind of battered,
I lived in constant fear,
Mother died, left my cheating wife,
Lost my job, no more value to life...
My last lifeline was my father,
In deepest mourning too,
I knew how bad we were hurting,
I knew what I wished to do...
So that summer I drove him and I,
To Montauk, Long Island, under beautiful sky,
With the world's most beautiful beaches,
Restaurants, historic sights,
120 miles away...
Anticipating a bit more than fun
days and nights....
See, I needed no return ticket,
Planned not to travel back home
I would marry the Atlantic Ocean,
No more in pain to roam....
Walk down the wedding aisle,
into the deepest sea....
My only concern, my father,
How much more sufffering would there be?
But sometimes one's own pain,
Overwhelms reason and heart,
I was prepared to be selfish,
And take my chance to depart...
We had some days of fun,
But on my chosen day,
I brought a beach chair to the beach,
Tape recorder, bottle of scotch...
Sat facing the mighty ocean,
Hoping this I would not botch...
Spent all night, and next morning,
Sitting by, and staring at, the sea...
Scotch seemed ineffective,
Maybe too much on the mind for me....
Of course the music was comforting,
All from the 30's and 40's,
Music my father taught me to love,
My mind was racing nowhere,
There was no insight from above...
Eventually I grew weary,
Returned to my seaside room,
My father relieved to see me,
Somehow that eased my gloom...
See, there's still love for me out there,
And lots for me to do...
How could I hurt this injured warrior,
A man who had my deepest admiration,
Love, and true respect...
I had been foolish to even think it,
And later, when I thought about it,
For one to take one's own options,
Is to disdain God's gift of life,
To spit in his face, even...
Perhaps creating God's strife...
So, I survived, and learned much,
From that fateful day...
When all seems completely hopeless,
Somehow God will find a way.
Epilogue; Driving home, radio played the Eagles, "Hotel California"...a song
which has new meanings to me, and never fails to remind me when I chose,
at the last moment, to step back from death, and seek the magic of hope, faith,
and love.
tom
Ethel Hurst
1889 – 1918
I saw the town rise up
Like a single blade of grass after a spring rain.
I played a multitude of hop-scotch games
With my best friend Hannah on Penn Street.
And sipped a hundred ice cream sodas in the Mercantile at sunset.
My mother took me to Jacob’s Grocery every Monday
And it was I who picked the plump oranges
From the big rickety crate.
On Saturdays we worked the fields at Strong’s Ranch,
Harvesting the pampas in the walnut fields.
And on Halloween I was the girl in the moon-face costume for five straight years.
When Christmas brought its luminous lights to the town,
Mother dressed me in red with a bell on my bonnet.
And father sang the carols with a guitar and a tambourine.
I graduated from the big high school in 1907
And in celebration,
Rode my bicycle to Bassett
Still in my starched graduation petticoats.
Jesse Forbes,
He being five years younger than I,
Was the love of my brief stay on this earth.
But when he ventured to steal a kiss that day in Black Canyon,
I used my calloused hand to convey my stern disagreement.
But what wild regrets I’ve entertained since Jesse drowned that day.
In the wild currents by Pio Pico’s crumbling Adobe,
His body bobbing like a sea bird
In the punishing plume of that old deep river.
Beyond the muddy banks and the wild flowers,
Jesse Forbes left this life with a surprised frozen grin.
Why Jesse? Why?
You never knew the truth, my love.
You never really understood what I meant
When I said nothing.
I said No to you when I said nothing that day in Black Canyon,
But I really meant Yes.
The influenza incinerated my heart and soul
With a 106 temperature in the winter of 1918.
Twenty nine years I dare say
Is nothing in terms of eternal life!
I had so much more to do!
I had so much more to dream about!
I walked and talked on the streets of my town,
And on the funeral-dark avenues of my innocent days.
And I planned and I schemed
And all for nothing!.
Indeed, I felt the pulse of fleeting time
And the never-ending,
Ever-turning circle of endless days.
But now I rest here in Clark Cemetery… a virgin corpse
Flirting shamelessly with the bow-tie worms,
Still wild with regrets.
And forever haunted in reverse
By the same recurring memory
Of Jesse Forbes holding a rose.
Under the old oak tree in Black Canyon..
While we were in your car. you were seated in the drivers seat and I was on the passengers seat. we were at the vineland drive in.
I remember you would say some of world of warcraft frases
I was confused because I didnt know What those words meant.
You would translate the language from characters used on that game
You would tell me what they meant
You told me a translation which means hello.
I remember when you moved apartments
I remember we were talking on the phone you read me a note you found when you were cleaning the you removed the drawers at he refrigerator and found a note which said Hey im a woman who came here for vacation and stayed in this apartment for a few days. I clean the apartment and now I find myself cleaning the refrigerator at mid night meanwhile these two pigs are asleep. If the place isn't clean enough for you. heres a $ 5.00 allowence to get you started on your chores. Thats what the note said. I remember you telling me that note had you laughing and made your day. You were telling me how cool it was to find a brand new cutting board which hasn't even been used not once.
I remember When you asked me a question you said Where did you think The vaccum should go? When I said: I would place it in the back of the hallway on the right. You walked over to the vacumm and place it there.
I remember The second time when the vaccum was in front of the enterance placed near the wall between the living room and kitchen next to a One drawer stand.
I remember when we were talking trough webcam and you were washing the dishes you showed me the scotch brite soap dispensing brush and told me it less hassel to wash dishes with them.
I remember when you use two computer screens connected to your hard drive.
we talked through the web cam your camera was backing you. You were playing league of legends.
I remember we would talk on webcam 25 times
Even though we stopped seeing eachother in person in the furture you kept communicating on and off when you showed me images through my cousins computer to guide and show me to what I have to do to correct me from making the same mistakes.
I think about you and you have no idea how much I miss you.
How much I miss those lovely moments.
Those are the moments I wish would reoccur once more?
============================
I sat one evening in the park
upon a bench I thought my own
but as the dusk got down to dark,
I realized I was not alone
I hadn't seen from where he'd come
or got a strong look at his face
but he was there, green as a plumb
where had so long been empty space
He beamed a right polite 'Good day!'
but when I made to shake his hand,
he seemed from sight to fade away
like seaside foam into the sand
Then, as I stared in disbelief
down at the empty wooden seat,
his silhouette in bas-relief
appeared again, from head to feet!
I found this process very strange
but he explained as best he could,
he hadn't left, he'd only changed
his coloring to match the wood
We chatted when my wits returned,
his pattern shifting now and then.
He was a reptile, soon I learned
and called himself 'Cha-me-le-on'
As topics changed, I noticed that
his coloration changed in kind
and I could tell, throughout our chat,
exactly what was on his mind
Now, poker is my favorite sport,
I rake in fortunes with the card,
in part, because those of his sort
make taking babies candy hard
At that, I left but told my name
and address and the time of day
that I was next to hold a game,
inviting him to come and play
Game day arrived and he was there
but came in late to join the fun
and though he dived into his chair,
the show already had begun
I poured a scotch and dealt him in,
explaining how a hand was played,
then sat where I could watch his skin
and witness any change it made
Then he allowed us all to see,
a wealth bound tightly in a wad
that, awed, I vowed eventually,
would come round to myself, by God!
A patsy if there'd ever been,
I got him taught as best I could
but plotting, thought, "If this is sin,
then please, don't ask me to be good!"
In my delight, I failed to spot,
until the night progressed a pace,
my guest caught every other pot
with not one hint wrought on his face
and as he smiled, I realized
that though my friend no clue had shown,
I'd bet you twenty mint that I'd
supplied him plenty of my own!
Thus, Lizards Poker isn't fun
and you must hold your empty seats
if you meet old Cha-me-le-on...
He's just cold-blooded, plus - he CHEATS!
============================
CIPROFLOXACIN HCL 500 MG remedied urinary tract infection
No aversion nor embarrassment
admitting, divulging, and jumpstarting
poetic endeavor regarding yours truly
afflicted, blighted, and contracted
with urinary tract infection,
(though condition finds me
feeling pissed off),
whereby urination fraught with
painful burning, gouging,
and stinging sensation.
Aside from the aforementioned ailment
practically, nearly, nay already cured,
after taking bad medicine, I feel great,
but recognize necessity
to take full course
of poetically issued, incorporated,
and identified antibiotic
despite feeling more drowsy than usual.
Impossible mission scrambling,
rummaging, and traversing
complex edifice housing
nooks and crannies pinpointing
how I, albeit married (libido
long since took kamikaze nosedive -
most likely adverse side effect
courtesy countless medications
prescribed to alleviate the bane
of social anxiety, obsessive
compulsive disorder, palmar hyperhidrosis,
et alia) though celibate
became subjected to micturate
experienced problematic discharge
to take a wizz with difficulty and discomfort.
The miracle of modern medicine
(actually corroboration of many
intelligent people such as biochemists,
biomedical engineer, pharmaceutical scientists,
et cetera) nips in figurative bud
ailments of body, mind and spirit
without which yours truly
among untold other individuals
would be unable to function
close to their optimal level as possible.
Though long since averse
to the crass commercialization
of most holidays in general,
and Christmas in particular;
eons ago boyhood found me
unbounded, unrestrained, untethered,
et cetera with bounteous excitement
when December twenty fifth
approached then finally arrived
whereat I knew full well
bearer of various and sundry gifts
linkedin with mother reminding father
in quasi cryptic words scotch tape
and newspaper in such and such place.
At ripe old age
of three score plus three
orbitz around the nearest star
considerably less enthusiasm gushes forth
at clamoring to purchase
and/or receive presents,
but rather anonymous
zoological primate here
within apartment b44
simply wanted a hippopotamus
to appease the hidebound grinch.
What If There Was No Tomorrow? - The Polar Ice ‘Cap’
- this time it’s burnt and curled upon a new head. The
sweet smoke of his sugarloaf effigy black as night,
surrounded by a material red trim, below Parliament houses
blows political greed into fiery smouldering smithereens –
then it floated and landed after years, drifting, onto
the crown of a man: a business man portraying
wealth and class; here it sat above suit and below sun. The
American dream swirled with scotch and the tip of a bowler,
only for the same piece (restyled of coursed) to later sell for
pounds to make the pupils of any impoverished person pop:
his Hamburg with a knowing dent in back, how it span and
spun from black to grey and back again around Hill’s peak
to be dyed again and tilted just so. Now it’s pillbox pink and a knitted
O of a name/shape-sake that covers her head where her husband
had a target upon his. Watermelon-pink colour dye actually: the very
same fruit palette of brain cradled in her hands at high speed.
This latest star attraction of Burgdorf’s no doubt was, decades
prior, nothing but a mix of lifeless green and sludge brown from
grass and cud - metallic dead daises ducking over No Man’s
Land. A Brodie: styled on a not-yet-pulled pin grenade atop
beads of sparkling sweat, dripping slipping salt where now
a pedal controlled sewing machine stabs and pins sequins into
veils that hide brides with (it must be said) the same success
that protected Fawkes’ Plot or Churchill’s reputation or
Jackie’s husband and the slaughtered soldiers’ skulls - but
still the accessories twist into fascinators fancy enough for
mothers to weep below, only to find the box dish or bow
to be knocked akilter during the traditional bouquet mad
dash - then up – up – up! into the air before landing anew,
refreshed as a Gatsby or Hijab, perhaps a Trilby or Zucchetto;
better yet, the Boater or Sailor we’ll need when the hat that covers
all our heads smoulders and peaks when next dented and melted: a
loose grenade we can’t be veiled from, nor refashioned nor restyled
when the next season’s must have
will be a copper and bolt
protective Diving Mask
for the drowning tomorrow
from The Polar Ice 'Cap'.