Long Tequila Poems
Long Tequila Poems. Below are the most popular long Tequila by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tequila poems by poem length and keyword.
Soon the sun will shine
Through the east facing blinds
I haven't worked in seven months
Yet, I rise every day before him
And write a poem or two
The ceiling fan wobbles
Finches, sparrows and a cooing dove
Greet the dawn
Sweet morning love
Best time for me
Should be waking up in cooler climes
Shoulda been coulda been woulda been
Gone by now
But for this old house
Drug off a mountain top
From a mining camp
That got scraped away
And dumped across the highway
Miner's shack really
Bought it for about
One year's teaching salary
In 1995
Kept all its 100 year old doors
Crystal doorknobs and skeleton key locks
Stripped away the lath and plaster
Took out some walls, moved another
Replummed, rewired
Refinished wood floors
Put down some maple
Added on some rooms
Guarded it all with white pickets
It has it's charm
Why I fought to keep it
Quit my job in Vegas
Retired altogether
So I could stay here
I don't know
Funny like that
Usually don't care
Pretty good at it
But this old house in this old town
I do
Although right now I wish I were
Dwellung somewhere north
Grand Tetons,Yellowstone, Glacier
Somewhere cold
Got my eldest daughter in Montana
But I'm here near my youngest
And her baby
Son just got back from Kuwait
He and my favorite daughter in law
Coming to visit from NY
Wants her dad here for barbeque Wednesday
Golf, then dinner out and a pub crawl Thursday
She's good to my son--good to everyone really
Si she gets what she wants
I'll put a shine on the place
Marinate a prime rib for the big easy
Buy her tequila, his whiskey, some beer
And get a tee time
I'm happy
I could be snuggled up in the cold
On a pine scented morning
Be fishing before the sun hits the water
But no one would come see me
Guess I'd fight again
For this old house
Sun's beating the blinds
It's garbage day
Gotta drag out the bin
Two whole bags
Higher trash fee now than
When the house was full
(Sigh)
Old Zack Adams sits a slouch’n so sloppy drunk on a bar-room stool,
Wear’n his cheap-threaded cowboy suit and a stained satin shirt.
All the while a peek’n and a leer’n at women like an old poor fool,
But think’n man tonight—Oh Boy, I’m really gonna hit the pay dirt!
Old Zack in this small Texas town is reputed to be quite a lecherous hoot,
As he raucously and recklessly rolls old worn quarters into the slot
Of the old bar-room Wurlitzer while snicker’n and smil’n to boot,
And plays his tearful and twangy jerk-water music while smil’n a lot!
Old Zack is this town’s “Jukebox Gigolo,” a real lover boy—Oh Boy!
He wears his patched cowboy hat and his scuffed silver-studded boots,
Meant to impress young girls and bar-fly floozies who have the Joy!
Of being with this bewildering, withered, weathered man and his boots.
Old Zack has a fad’n recollection of events and a silver mane of hair,
With a cigarette in his hand and cuss’n like a nasty little stable boy,
He downs whiskey shots and tequila seconds like no tomorrow on a dare,
While chas’n whiskey glass ice cubes and the tequila worm—being so coy.
Old Zack while a swigg’n down his whiskey mucho fast and direct,
He has now that blind courage to fight or to love—whichever is first,
While the old Wurlitzer resonates a rueful hick song for a teary effect,
But Old Zack can’t move now for this song has him sobb’n the very worst.
Old Zack with his nicotine-whiskey breath and his pockmarked face,
Personifies the image of an ideal loser of a man—with problems all,
While fight’n, scream’n, and punch’n others to gain some precious space,
He’s a showcas’n his reservoir of manly prowess—with problems all.
Old Zack was young once and not so wild, withered, weathered like now,
And he thought he was a really smart dude—all right moves and all,
But was really a man act’n far above his funny fake smart brow,
And now a cry’n on his bar-room stool and act’n like a fool before a fall.
Old Zack Adams—alcoholic as he truly is and sly and slick as a Texas fox,
Is not really so good with his women friends nowadays—for his real talent
Is in roll’n those old worn quarters pieces one-by-one into the old Jukebox,
Sing’n—“I’m the Jukebox Gigolo”—“a Drunk and a Delight,” that’s real talent!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (October 7, 2014)
(Rhymed Quatrain)
I lounge lazily on my deck chair
Up high in the spacious loggia
Loafing the time away, patient, waiting.....
The ocean ebbs into the small bay
As the sun sets far away over the horizon.
From below electric lights flash on
One by one and guitars are strummed.
The enticing aroma of paella wafts up
But I sit on, unmoved, immobile, waiting.
In the summer heat, I wait,
For the night to bring her near,
With a dance so sweet, she'll appear,
The summer heat is scarcely relieved
By the faint ocean breeze
The murmur of people reaches me.
She has arrived and the guitars sing.
So does my heart as I behold my wife.
Slowly she pirouettes on her dainty toes,
Her skirt resembling a veronica,
Like a cape that baits the bull
In a Spanish bloody arena.
But I sit on, unmoved, immobile, waiting.
I cannot see her red, red lips
That taste like lavender in height of summer,
I can just barely make out her silhouette,
Her sexual curves, her lithe footing,
Her inviting mien, her head held high,
a proud senora dancing just for love.
In the summer heat, I wait,
For the night to bring her near,
With a dance so sweet, she'll appear,
Soon the dance will end and I...
Why I just wait till she'll come to me,
In the dark cover of the night.
With a tequila and a night of love.
Jane told me of the exchange they had with Derek, earlier that day--guess who showed up that night--hehe.
I told you guys, Jane's a talker, and that's how Clint got smarter.
Along with other fellow workers, that night there were two guys plus me, my opened hatchback doubled for Jane and her sister.
Three guys on a rolled-out garage floor, all having 100-proof shots of Tequila with no alcohol in sight, other than two yakety bartending sisters with three prisoners desperately seeking Ali to sting us like a bee.
The two guys had a particular interest be they of the single variety but poor boys should eat such an appropriate sandwich because young sister dearest hast stolen thy fullest moon and hast made it ecliptic to wallow over two foolish hearts a horizon's descend.
The two chose to stay knowing I was on the way to Carmel for that arranged night for tomorrow.
I had spoken with them earlier when they asked if they could hitch a ride back to San Francisco with me and Jane.
They both knew the guy who they caught a ride to get to Carmel and have a luncheon with Clint, had to make a quick return because he had to work that evening.
The other two guys wanted more of a timeout with Clint, hence, the three of us had full knowledge that our sleeping bags were needed in that makeshift garage slash--if one would call it that--and one of our wardens had pigtails.
if my soul ever wept like a rose
drunk on thornless scents ...
would you, O love ,
trace the lips of time ,
glazed with passionate patterns
of poison and starlight?
untying the rubies of romance ,
sleepless, infatuated ... with the flame
of your pensive pixie-fire ...
I long for you, to pulsate in lush lilac
as the sunset bleeds in your tattoos
dressed with tequila temptations,
read me ~ like a poem ~ laid bare
as I unfurl softly, a luna-pearl ...
lovesick .. in liquid pink lustre ,
dreaming of dulcet demons
in the kiss
left by leafy fingertips
of tie-dyed july ~
on my waning heart ...
I lounge lazily on my deck chair
up high in the spacious loggia
loafing the time away, patient, waiting.....
The ocean ebbs into the small bay
as the sun sets far away over the horizon.
From below electric lights flash on
one by one and guitars are strummed.
The smell of paella wafts up
towards my rumbling stomach,
but I sit on, unmoved, immobile, waiting.
The summer heat is scarcely relieved
by the faint ocean breeze. Salty sweat
runs down my unshaven face,
a welcome taste as my tongue licks
the sides of my parched lips.
The murmur of people reaches me.
She has arrived and the guitars sing.
So does my heart as I behold my wife.
Slowly she pirouettes on her dainty toes,
her skirt resembling a veronica,
like a cape that baits the bull
in a Spanish bloody arena.
I cannot see her red, red lips
that taste like lavender in height of summer,
I can just barely make out her silhouette,
her sexual curves, her lithe footing,
her inviting mien, her head held high,
a proud senora dancing just for love.
Soon the dance will end and I...
why I just wait till she'll come to me,
in the dark cover of the night.
with a tequila and a night of love.
Hear the clip-clop of iambic beats
Sounds like Shelley with a side of Keats
Is that the scritchity-scratch of a goose quill flickin’
Or just the tippity-tap of some mouse you clickin’..?
So you a prophet poet, regular Marley meets Dylan
Writin’ about oppression and unjust killin’
Shootin' the Sheriff with a Reggae song
Inspirin' your generation with a sing along
A shot of tequila with a wedge of lime
Saddle up and bide your time
Every line don’t need to rhyme
I can give you a million examples
You don't seem like the lyrical type
Kickin' cold turkey with oranges ripe
That's the fruit that rhymes with nothin’
Fresh squeezed it's good for somethin’
Citric flashback, Tang for the brain
Hyperspace wormholes one cannot explain
Sun dippin' below the rim of a rhymeless plateau
Cow skull and cactus, a timeless tableau
In the twilight gloom, a weather-beaten sign
Free Verse Ranch is the place to dine
Gorge on rhyme-free wordplay victuals
Linguistic linguini and cage-free visuals
Specialty of the house: lemon chicken couplet
With a side of mashed onomatopotatoes--plop!
Gravy sloppin’ down slopes like molten lava
Washed down with mugs of fresh-brewed java
Buzzards circlin' the sky in a lazy ellipse
Moon moseyin' in for a total eclipse
Flee in the dark, take a steed for a ride
Jump the split rail fence to the other side
Leap back in time to a buzzin' hive
Looks like the vortex, circa 1995
Can barely think amid the din
Perfect time for the ‘shrooms to kick in
Tie-dyed girl where I left her spinnin' in place
Band still playin' a trippy Drums n Space
But how strange that I cannot feel my face
How did twenty years vanish without a trace?
Tumbleweed twirlin' down the rutted street
Empty rocking chair swayin' skee-reet skee-reet
'Taters still steamin' like a mini-volcano
Room reeks of whiskey stronger than Drano
Spilled orange juice tricklin' a fly-food slurry
Someone cleared outta Free Verse Ranch in a helluva hurry
The clip-clop of iambic beats, Sheriff on my tail
He wouldn't shoot an unrhymed man, would he?
My mule is intelligent, and it loves me.
perhaps it loves everybody,
it's a rental.
I need a shot of confidence.
The mule rests its head on my shoulder.
It's a well-travelled track
but today I have met no one.
I should have left camp in the early dark,
for now a fiery desert sun
is baking the dry earth into hot broken glass.
I imagine our bones
being found some years later
by some kid in an off-road Lexus.
The Mule snorts derisively;
nudges me in the small of the back
to get me going.
A few miles later I'm drinking Tequila
in a cantina
and the mule is falling in love again
with some other intrepid explorer.
I wanna drink Tequila with some Mexicans
and smoke ganja with some Jamaicans
and get high
I wanna dance in Africa
and kiss the sun in the Serengeti
and spend nights moon bathing in the sky
I wanna own the wind
and give shout outs to powers within
I wanna be free of sin
I wanna not be able to give in to temptations
unless it's dancing to the rhythm of change
I wanna hear all the angels clapping and shouting my name
Sometimes I visit different planes of thought
and I realize that I am already those things
and it feels a bit strange
So I wait for my subconscious to realize
that truly enlightening day
I yearn for a feast of knowledge
and I incessantly pray
that I can co-exist with the universe
I began to look within it's soul source
and I saw myself sowing seeds of poetry and music and dance
I saw myself climbing mountains and overcoming circumstance
I saw beautiful rings of green and gold and purple lilacs
growing by a stream
I saw myself happy to just be
surrounded by the rhythm of the breeze
because yes it does have one
I follow it when I feel the need to become
more aware
And I train my heart through knowledge and meditation
and I write to the pain I bare.
I produce chances to reflect upon for granted luxuries of life
I see myself with an abundance of blessings without a price
I wanna continue to love.
I wanna continue to believe.
But I what I don't want that feeling to do
is continue to
leave.
Imagination nude
liquored and lacquered lips
ember-breathing phoenix
..lighter fluid magic
when let loose near a flame..
combustible thigh-highs
when moonshine-high is nigh—
the moon she bathes in dreams
I have you both in hand
my tongue slick and sleek seeks
to taste the fruits of fields
intoxicated snake
oh! my lust a slither
a quiver serpentine
squeeze innocence with sins
revive the withered vine
anthurium’s shield leaf
your phallic sword unsheathed
exotic frolic fire
in heart-shaped bloom I burn
fire-water-pulse untamed
grabbed by the mane restrained
—unrestrained dreams unleashed
tequila genie free
sassy-frassy lassie
a parasol in pink
frilly and unfolded
beholder beholden
to climb aboard and fly
feminine flamingo
through shaken sky uncorked—
liquid-libido rains
as thirst and thunder reigns
just drop the reins and ride
bridal sweet bridle free
yah barefoot and bareback
yes! drain the bottle dry
free way ticket three way
trifecta perfecta
primal energies spoon
la belle ‘Bianca’ blanc—
wine-skinned mademoiselle