Long Strong drink Poems
Long Strong drink Poems. Below are the most popular long Strong drink by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strong drink poems by poem length and keyword.
In the rain,
In the spring.
He needs a drink
A strong drink
He is on the brink.
The drain is up his neck,
But the sailor is on the deck,
Waiting to embark before the
check-in
He is on the brink.
He shuffled a deck of cards on
the table.
Held on tight to the cords on the
stable.
He is on the brink.
Anxiety grips, nerves all over
He needs a drink, he is on the brink.
Ranting and shouting hysterically
But constrained physically.
He wanted to propose to her
But he needed a drink to ....
Come out of the brink
Dutch courage is all he has now.
He is cowered when dry;
He needs a drink to get out,
He is on the brink when dry.
He is addicted to the bottle
Despite what his words tell a friend
His hands reach out to the liquor
As if it contains the cure for his failures
He takes a drink, never thinking
Of all the pain this poison will bring
To him, his wife and their children
Everyone who truly cares about him.
Everyone has seen this demon
Bring greater men to their demise
Without a second chance to stop him
He’ll be filling up his entire heart and life
With a sickening scent of alcohol that
Makes him more brainless than anything else
He’ll keep drinking until this strong drink
Kills him – and his family will grieve for
The one they knew before he was a drunk
He’s addicted to the thing that hurts
Him and everyone who cares for him
He thinks he can handle one drink of it
But a few bottles later tells the true story
Even though the bottle is his best friend
It’s actually the enemy to the one inside him
He thinks it can mend whatever hurts him
While it actually ruins what’s left within
Alcoholic, lost in the toxic liquid
That destroys more than his sanity
This drink will take away all that is good
And leave a broken down failure, most likely
Dead on the inside before he actually dies
Proverbs 23:20f: "Do not join those who drink too much wine or gorge themselves on meat, for drunkards and gluttons become poor, and drowsiness clothes them in rags." ... Ephesians 5:18: "Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery. Instead, be filled with the Spirit."
Last good days of innocence
He did came
with no trace
with no chain no fame
no frame or mark of true repentance
In skeletons of liquid pawns
carved in satirical steer
Streets bubbling
enchanted in silence
men wailing,
choking, bundled like sardine
strong drink is a mocker
loneliness is a gradual death
hunger is a conquerer
of this earth
men quarantined
Khaki with arms walking
watching and searching to fight
disobedience
but men can't eat air,
hunger In the street lurks.
At night
men Of the underground
with silence they scatter
they ransack every nooks
and crannies women wrapper
opened lock wildly
from her Can of safe
are cowries bugle
she screams in pain
but to nobody
Innocence is to innocent
boys gone to obtain
for the belly
pockets must open
sachets
must be broken
with the matches
"Good she "gone bad"
Hunger don't taste nice
innocence is a title
men locked inside
with chains of fear
can't decide
what this tide wears
they stretch run with their eyes
while standing here with their feet
looking like a lion on a pouncing game
preying an antelope to eat
loud streets wraps in pretence
mosques sits quite
Churches gone with God in trance
clubs eat boredom as diet
Cono!! what have you done
to men of the west
confidence in them is gone
to den
conscience has fallen from
thier pockets
Innocence is a title
they tear the streets
from house to house
bungling every safe to feed
feed from the ruins of
the skeleton of the liquid pawn
23/4/2020
Pick -A- Title , Volume 16-free verse 2
Last good days of innocence
Edward Ibeh
The drunk
A thick plastic curtain of the type used in warehouses he could not see through
to other than shadowy figures moving around he knew he saw a past that
no longer belonged to him.
He sat on the edge of his unmade bed, drinking warm beer when a sharp knock
on the door of his flat
it was the landlord looking at him with contempt, said he must pay the rent tomorrow or else!
Despair sizzled through his body needed a strong drink one mixed vodka and cold coffee,
while asking himself how it had come to this losing his job because he had been
“outspoken”, told his boss to off
Drinking the rest of the beer, he decided to take the bus to the farm he once lived
as a child; he had been happy there and to trace his life from there
He got off the bus in a small town near the farm. needing a drink, but it must have been early
the cafe had no ale he had a coffee which he mixed with vodka; when that
was seen they had told him to leave
He bought a tin of cola and sat in a park drinking thinking of this unfriendly town full of Jesus
people with no sense of humor
He took a taxi to the farm, now a gated community the river was gone, the wooden bridge
across it too, where he used to sit under and see tiny fishes nibble at his toes- gone, ing gone.
A man came and told him it was private property and looked as burly guard on duty
Down the main road where they were widening the road, a workers’ shed
he got in a found cold coffee and mixed it with vodka, he must have lost the sense of time
all of a sudden it was morning the workers were coming.
He got a bus home and walked to his flat the landlord said his mother had paid the rent
and taken my belongings she wanted to see him
At her flat sat many people, even the boss who had fired him; thought this assault is called
intervention; telling him his problem was booze, he was a good guy when sober
They left in time for him to go to the nearest café for a few more beers before closing time.
The next day, he had, a shower and dressed in clean clothes
He went to a meeting where people appeared feverishly happy and laughing out loud.
With the eyes of an eagle, men and women are in your sight.
With your eyes oh Lord, you see all who dwell on the earth.
You saw me as wine flooded my tongue,
the bottle emptied of all its sorrows.
For I was weak, a wretched soul at the end of the gallows.
The hangman’s noose tight about my scrawny neck.
You were there, with tears and a smile.
You saw the end from the beginning,
You — the Alpha and Omega.
You sacrificed the strong drink, replacing it with water —
water cool and crisp from the spring of paradise.
The petty officer with his serpentine tattoo
tried to swallow me whole. The stormy seas
suddenly calmed by the warmth of your words
as you spoke through wise lips your truth.
Oh Lord of men and seas, cleanse me with your brine.
See your servant who prays with humble lips, on her knees.
Lift our feet above shallow shores to the heights of tomorrow,
where no suffering will defeat us, only sparkle our uniforms.
9/9/2019
Write a Psalm Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
She had many good days and bad ones. There were sad moments and happy ones. There was a period in which she was a daily soft drink consumer.
But I must say that there was nothing soft about the drink she craved.
She was captivated by a certain strong drink more than any other.
As for me, if it wasn’t for the salt and the sugar it contained,
I too would be drinking with a frowning face, just like MOTHER.
Doing the laundry, cleaning the house, and cooking, or simply taking her infrequent leisure. Beautifying someone’s hair, or just chatting with a friend,
there was often a small green glass bottle of soda nearby. This lady never poured from the bottle into a drinking glass. Such a classy ritual was never required nor desired by her. The most favored, the most flavored, and the most refreshing moment for MOTHER was a bag of salted peanuts slowly poured into her favorite strong drink.
Watching as his MOTHER intakes her favorite snack, I, a little boy, look on
and capture a magical moment. The drink was ice cold, but MOTHER liked
it that way.
Sixty-plus years have come and gone, but the memories will not pass soon. Those precious magical moments will last forever. MOTHER, happily drinking her cold and soothing coca cola. The tasty bottle of coke, filled with salted peanuts; MOTHER'S frowns from the very strong taste, but enjoying every drop. Without knowing it, MOTHER was creating a magical moment.
Time has made the little boy a man, but MOTHER'S favorite drink and the memory of that magical moment that she created shall forever stand.
The house is boiled cabbage
goose fat, gizzard stew, and beets.
Windows steam and simmer,
you can write your name on the glass
winter or summer.
If you can live among rutabaga
or borscht; if pickled eggs haunt your palate
then this house becomes air in your lungs.
The landlady was Polish or Russian;
she spoke with a burly churlish tongue,
she moved like a Turk, her walking cane
was a scimitar. She supped a tarry tea
from a Serbian samovar.
We shared a toilet with a slim man
who was slinky and still in the closet,
he would saucily wink over strong drink.
His lips were rosy not pink. He washed
argyle socks in the kitchen sink.
There were others, they left early
riding pushbikes into the grey streets.
The lady groused, patrolled perimeters,
barged prying hands into private matters.
Hairclips and rubber bands fell from her curlers
as forewarnings and threats.
The Bulgarian or Croatian crone
had broad bad hips and liked me not
for back then
I used a substance to ease my mind.
I would smoke in the shared toilet
leaning my thin mouth through
a small slanty window,
she absolutely knew, and threw
passing daggers
with tightly curled Estonian lips.
We stayed like that for months
until the city regurgitated our lives
once more.
Once more seeking low rent rooms,
from those cosmopolitan guardians
of small city spaces.
Midst counselor roles, we work with wisdom
granted by God midst faith-braced healing might
praying for guidance in our ministry
while somehow serving as good detectives
solving seemingly mysterious cases
putting an end to confusion and doubt.
We helped the lady regained composure
when she admitted the cause of her angst:
“The label I hide on the wine bottle~
has been replaced with a verse from Scriptures.
It bears this truth from Proverbs 20:1
'Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging.'”
Likewise, we let a pet lover calm down
since he was grieved by a shocking report…
“They told me of the psycho cat’s demise~
and every description fits my kitten---”
Well, he learned at last that such was a joke
To reveal his reaction fortitude.
Meanwhile, we took time to cheer a young lad
whose parents were bothered with his stories
accordingly, he would hear strange spooky sounds…
Eerie boardwalk creaks near the white sand beach~
that reverberated time and again---
with trust in God, his fear for beach was gone.
Lifting to the Saviour our burdens*
we thank Him for His ready enabling
in our reaching-out pursuits with blest peace
assured of grace He constantly bestows
like having restful heavenly delights ---
Sabbatical dreams after quarantine~.
*Galatians 6:2 Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.
September 30, 2020
Lines with "~" are from Kim Rodrigues
Last night a great heaviness
fell through the roof
dropping like a boat anchor into my dreaming mind.
It was sentient,
a being as hard as steel and massively stupid.
I felt its dumb confusion, its awkward alarm,
I winced as it lumbered around my head-space
crashing into my own startled thoughts
though I realized on some level of awareness
that I was still living in a bad dream.
The brutishly bulky being wanted answers,
I wanted answers, the dream had no answers.
Eventually that solid hulking creature gave up
turning my inner-state over and smashing
my neuronal workings over its big stony head.
Oblivion took us both.
When daylight unveiled the long night
I looked about me
the bedroom was not ransacked
but my brain was blinking on ‘check engine’ light,
and something was still asleep
on the backseat of my mind.
Tonight I will take a strong drink and 2 Ambien
incase its guttural snoring, or its chaotic dreams
wakes me up again.
Some people think I’m anti human
Some believe I really would
Free this world of the species
If I easily could.
We are not the only animals
But for what it’s worth
We are the only ones
Destroying mother earth.
Seven days of creation
Just to give birth
To the scourge
Of this earth?
I don’t mean to offend
But will if needs must
To try and convince others
We hold this planet in trust;
Not just for future generations
Of our human race,
But for all the other animals
With whom we share this place.
I suppose it’s just another lost cause
When some see others in need
Of basic food and water
Just to satisfy their own greed.
The only mitigating factor,
Which rather baffles the mind,
No matter how we treat the animals
We inflict worse on our own kind.
So, praise the lord and pass the bottle.
Praise the lord that I am free
Praise the lord for pre -cast concrete
And let heaven help the trees.
And praise the lord for good strong drink
For when it hurts too much to think.