Long Whiskey Poems
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one fine sunny morning dazzling golden sunrise
dancing with rays of magical sunshine
dewdrops on silver webs glistening drops
he began whistling and dancing
picking wild mushrooms on the forest floor
to make magic wonder and happenings occur
he begins building and stoking the fire
throwing turf on until red hot
sticks the pot over the flicking flames
stirring emotions inside bubble and steam
throws in a mountain of carrots, peas, herbs
with lots of other sorts of raw veggies
adding a rare drop of mountain spirits . . .
next freeing a soul adding an alchemic fuel so rare
making himself a most magical and delicious stew
as he cooked he began devouring the stew more and more
then slowly he felt himself floating high so high
in a bubble so wonderful and dear and so clear
picked up by a pocket of air and floating even more
when . . .
a lovely fairy princess appears gossamer wings your light
and then appearing again under a radiant rainbow bridge
and with one cherished and most special romantic kiss
he began waltzing with her to a melody so haunting yet pretty
and while lost in this mystical trancelike moment of splendor
the fairy princess stole his heart that was pure gold
and when he came around alone—so alone
an icy cold shiver then ran down his very spine
it was just a silly old leprechaun dream and all he thought
as I see her magic sparkling potions cast on someone else too
the big ethereal and mystical bubble of fairy elves just burst
wide open for him and all others to see while the elves
laughed raucously so hard with little warm tears running down
their little rosy cheeks . . .
the leprechaun pondered—next time Me thinks Me be more
careful with them mushrooms Me happily picks on the forest floor—
and stick to drinkin’ the old mountain forest dew with some
lovely luscious shots of the oldest Irish whiskey with a stout nip o’ gin . . . .
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman – A Collaborated Poem, Copyright ©
All Rights Reserved (December 3, 2014)
Haggis hype
Bagpipes bleating like unshorn sheep
Tartan theatrical - military tatoos
Scotland cloning Dolly the Sheep
National pride - Robbie Burns, poet, bard of Auld Lang Syne
Highlands of ancient rocks, rift vallies
natural beauty, layers of worth
Loch Ness, geologic scooped, water serene
Nessie settled in depths, unseen
sonar detection elusive
marine monster of geeky charm
conjured in gift shop puffery
Nessie hat, Dragon like, tucked above protruding ears
In Edinburgh's historic streets
Whiskey fed men, burly, bearded
strut
wrapped in kilts
traditional garb
plaid, pleated, blessed, dressed
in woolen scratchiness (avoid a public itch)
Breezy kilts wrap manly legs menaced by
thigh high thistles
Scottish reach prickly
No matter
Scots men, image strong
(ignore the thistles and street whistles)
brimming swagger like malt liquor
skirting scavengers in exploration peaks
men in kilts (minimalism denied)
protectors of the realm
unafraid
to let it all hang out
Poem composed: March 10, 2021
A young man, barely twenty-one,
On the town in search of fun.
The wrong side of the railroad track
And somehow never made it back.
A pickup truck, a black guitar…
I thought that they would take me far.
But music with no solid plan
Meant nothing when I met Suzanne.
Used to think that I was strong.
Those days are forever gone.
Want to know what led me wrong?
Blame the whiskey, women, and song.
Another seedy barroom stage.
Drinks and tips, our only wage.
But we had such sweet harmonies,
Ecstasies and agonies.
So, coast to coast, that highway song.
I thought we were where we belong.
But life moves like an old cliché
And Becky stole my heart away.
Used to think that I was strong.
Those days are forever gone.
Want to know what led me wrong?
Blame the whiskey, women, and song.
Our dreams will always let us down…
We were camped just out of town.
Me and Becky on the street
I sang my songs, she tapped her feet.
The liquor store was dark that night.
Truly locked up good and tight.
Breaking in was kind of fun
But then we had to cut and run.
Used to think that I was strong.
Those days are forever gone.
Want to know what led me wrong?
Blame the whiskey, women, and song.
The next week Becky said goodbye.
So I gave Annie Sue a try.
She stayed with me until the Spring
But couldn’t live without a ring.
A one man show once again.
Just me alone until the end.
A bottle of my favorite brew
I guess will somehow get me through.
Used to think that I was strong.
Those days are forever gone.
Want to know what led me wrong?
Blame the whiskey, women, and song.
An old man now, so many years
Same old dreams, the same old fears.
Still on the wrong side of the track
Too late now, no going back…
Used to think that I was strong.
Those days are forever gone.
Want to know what led me wrong?
Blame the whiskey, women, and song.
She sat there at the bar waiting for a drink
all she could do was, about him think.
The same question replaying in her head,
why would he want someone else instead.
Her flowing blond hair hung across her face
and her eyes were damp with love's hurting trace.
With a broken hearted voice she asked for a drink
of anything that would help her to not of him think.
A whiskey shot is what the caring bartender brought
and through out the night after her safety he sought.
Names were exchanged between the two and what a
surprise when his wife is the one her man had that was
new.
Funny how life moves us to a new place and the love the
caring bartender gave to her, removed love's hurting trace,
forever from her lovely face.
A Game Of Darts
Cigar smoke and darts swirl in the green dim glow
Red centered dot moving on the bar wall
Whiskey surreal fog hovers
Covers mistakes and age
Curse the target board and makers!
Old man curls the mustache for luck
Misses the mark while polishing off a draft
Gasps, head swimming, he tries again
In the cruel dungeon drinking hole
Saloon is guilty as usual for this misery
He walks home disgruntled
Kept straight by a crooked stick
Guided by anger
A whiskered figure grumbles; it’s only a game
Another lost soul and saloon loser
Five dollars is not the end of the world you know
There life is different
other behavior is fine...
In this whiskey store bar,
where the toilet
is american and it is
called pissoir store...
That's where I drink a lot,
and only pay later
of chatter,
much imbroglio
and at the registry...
In the presence of
a notary... but if it is
in the nest of "sinful guys"..
So, I promptly pay,
I'm not a stupid...
I'm chic, Buddy...!
The Legend of Jazz Soup Man, listen close/
This cat, He’s got the chops, deep, digging, negotiating chord changes, blowing you away with hip to the bone genre bending melodies, Improvising on his tenor horn/he was born to play jazz/
he's got a ghetto heart with voodoo upbrings that resonate with the soul of the city/
Leaning on the giants, the bebop greats, Kenny Clarke’s, Charlie Christian’s, Bud Powell’s keys, Bird and Diz/
He was a jazz monster, A force on the bandstand, no fake books, Just pure, Unfiltered, altered states of consciousness, on a single note/
sculpting sound, creating worlds, that you could see and hear as he played/
It was either free jazz, or Bebop deluxe, and oh, how he blew the jazz masters away, At the jazz junction, A hidden gem down on High Top Way/
where the smoke curled like dreams, where the jazz vibe came alive, and women drank distilled whiskey/
What was his name? In whispered respected tones, they called him, Jazz Soup, A blend of rhythm jazz bebop and soul, a symphony of spontaneity/
Living and breathing jazz, man, He was the bebop jazz hipster of the night, with every note he blew, it was a swinging serenade to a jazz feelin'/
at that moment, we all dug deep and understood/
Jazz isn’t just music, It’s a way of life, a celebration, a story, And his name? forever etched on graffiti walls in the city by the bay/
Jazz Soup, the legend, the man who turned bebop into a world sound/
The Long Trail © by Trisha Sugarek
The Circle Heart brand on the wet rump rippled
as the horse shivered with exhaustion
the sun lost its battle with night and
dropped behind the far peak
Chaparejos, worn thin and soft fit his legs
like they had grown there
Dusty spurs jangled as he trotted into the sleepy town
A saddle that had seen a thousand miles creaked
and complained as he stepped down
the crown of his hat was stained with sweat
from the hard ride
Reins dangled in the dirt
The horse hung his head, relieved to not
be moving anymore
A drink or two to wash the Santa Fe Trail dust
from the cowboy’s throat he stepped up onto the boardwalk,
turned and gazed at the town
and the mountains beyond
the color of old blood as the sun lost its glory
He pulled a cigarillo out, and with one smooth
movement wiped a match on his pants, the tiny
flame igniting
He puffed and blew smoke into the night air
watched the town close up for the night
Across the street a cur scurried around a corner
a merchant keyed his shop closed and
lit the gas lantern beside his door
The work had been good at the Circle Heart ranch, the grub even better
But the trail was his siren, always calling him, luring him over the next hill, down the next wash,
up the next canyon
sleeping next to a small camp fire,
staring at a billion stars
wondering if someone, something out there
was staring back
He wanted to settle but he hadn’t found
the right place
the right woman
the right time
Flicking the smoke into the street, he turned
and entered the saloon,
honky-tonk piano music played
The doors behind him whispered back and forth
The patrons saw another dusty, tired cowpoke, looking
for a few hours of pleasure
some music, some whiskey, and if he could afford it
the soft arms of a woman
The cowboy saw weak town folk,
forever saddled to their days
the bit in their mouths dictating their lives
wary of any stranger, their gaze sidling away
Set ‘em up and keep ‘em comin’, the cowboy barked
Show me your coin, the barkeep growled
His days were numbered
the boys from the Circle Heart ranch would find
him and the horse
They would take their horse and probably string
him up to the nearest tree
He served as a deacon in his church and was as pious as they come.
(But on the side, he sold whiskey from a thirty-gallon drum!)
He taught junior high Sunday School and was a Bible scholar.
(But on the side he 'stilled' moonshine way back up in the holler!)
He was faithful in tithing ten percent of his ill-gotten gain.
(For his John Barleycorn he used only the best obtainable grain!)
He occupied the same pew every Sunday listening with attentive ear.
(It was rumored about that he also brewed some very potent beer!)
He proffered an 'amen' at appropriate times and wore a suit and tie.
(He was renowned throughout the county for his very delectable rye!)
His tenor voice blended well when singing, "I Love Thy Kingdom, Lord"!
(On back roads he did a bit of bootlegging in his hopped-up V-8 Ford!)
He was the first to offer succor to widows, orphans and others left bereft.
(He'd run his still for years - at evading 'revenooers' he was very deft!)
When folks were needed to serve on committees he was first to volunteer.
(When asked his occupation he replied, "I'm a 'Spirit'-ual Engineer!)
At Yuletide he was generous with the parson giving him beef, cash and pork.
(At annual church picnics he surreptitiously passed a bottle to uncork!)
There couldn't be found a finer saint in all of Boondock County, Kentucky!
(He'll continue to 'minister' to parched throats in the county - if he's lucky!
Won First Place in the Soup International Poetry Contest -April 2012
24 slices of halved green tomatos
24 slices of cooked bacon
12 slices of texas toast type bread
(thick Slices)
the tomatos will be battered and deepfreid
fry in olive oil and bacon fat mixed.
for the batter
2 eggs
1 1/4 cup of buttermilk
2 cups self rising flour
3/4 cups of uncooked grits
salt
red cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon of nutmeg
9 tablespoons of pareseam cheese
1 reaspoons of garlic powder
mix batter dip tomato and fry.
cook golden brown
SET ASIDE
toast or grill bread
on both sides.
SET A SIDE
for cheese spread
mix
1/3 c of mayo
1 teaspoon of conac
2 tablespoons of honey
4 tablespoons of butter
1/3 cup of cream cheese
1/4 cup of cheddar shredded.
1/4. C mozzarella
1/4 goat cheese
1egg yolk shredded
1/4 cup of sauteed red onion
1 tablespoon of chopped garlic
1 teaspoon of crushed pepper flakes
1/4 cup of sun dried peppers
1/2 teaspoon McCormicks season all
1/2 teaspoon of lime
1/2 teaspoon of dried cilantro
mix and set aside
Spread on bread and toast until melted
twelve leaves of lettuce
24 watercress leaves
assemble
sandwiches
and serve!
I kissed my Fiancée with this mouth
she became my Wife
and it's my belief it was do to this
Subtle Emphasis
Crusted melodies
Crisp harmonies
Terminologies' of
delicate
deliciousness
Pagans Spoon
and Monarchs
gratification