Long Whisky Poems
Long Whisky Poems. Below are the most popular long Whisky by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whisky poems by poem length and keyword.
we had pillow eyes from the start
pass me whisky
we be frisky
you are so hot
for a shot
we drink the smile
veil eyes are guile
our horses rein
on barstool's pain
our chambers are loaded
to be goaded
we play the role
on tips and toes
some, we banter
laugh, as our horses canter
we joke and play
while our horses neigh
the barship's been fun
but it's time to run
to take our horses to park
where hedges and trees embark
she gives the other suitors a blink
i follow with a knowing wink
we throw barkeep a fin
and leave arm and arm with wry grins
connie pachecho
2/2/17
Please kiss and run
Her body is on fire
The water is rising
Whisky on the table,
Golden in the glass
Burn to the taste,
A little happiness at last
No Money to burnt, yet time to pass
So turn away or duck and run
My only son
Take your misty mistletoe kiss
Disconnect the extinguisher: this girl is on fire!
..... A battle beyond despairs for the ghetto woman
A part of labor, and a part pain;
The ghetto woman lost all sense of pride
A breed of women with no shame!
A part of labor and a part of pain
Ghettooooo woman...
1 Peter 5:8
Be sober-minded; be watchful.
Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion,
seeking someone to devour.
The red necktie
He woke on the sofa, fully dressed
vaguely remembered an argument with a woman
He took a shower, made coffee
turned on the radio that told of a woman strangled
by a red necktie.
He paled under his fake tan; his tie was red, lost in
a brawl in a bar, did he? No, he was a friendly sort
he liked to think of himself, surely not…!
What to do now? Call the police and confess
To a crime, he could not remember having committed?
He looked out of the window into an empty street
Sunday morning, people were still sleeping
or perhaps the street had been cleared so that they could
arrest him without using force?
Now, he needed a drink, opened the drink cabinet
and there was his tie knotted on the solid neck
of whisky bottle
So much of yesterday I can clearly see.
There was a man duly a part of my history.
He lived up the road a short distance from us.
We passed his house every day to catch the school bus.
Everyone called him by his last name, which was Baine.
I remember a face that seemed filled with lots of pain.
A hard-working man, but he seldom laughed or expressed joy.
He was the type of man that no one wanted to confront or annoy.
There was one thing about him that enabled me to better understand.
He had a younger wife named Bebe who left him for another younger man.
From that time onward he lived alone and made lots of 'moonshine'.
When I was just a boy, Mr. Baine became a very good friend of mine.
We both loved baseball, and his favorite team was the New York Yankees.
I was a Dodger fan, but we remained friends in spite of the rivalries.
Coming home from school one day, we all noticed that the entire roadway
had the smell of moonshine. It was obvious to us that Mr. Baine's whisky
still had been discovered by law enforcement.
CHANGING WORLDS
.. An' Unc' Nathan -
Well.., he just kept right on ..,
You.., (he coughed a long one) eyes..,
They gonna' be square..
I blasted another.
'All that killing', said Ma..,
Lighting Grandpap's pipe..,
Pausing.., for her own pleasure..,
Then passing it on.
Brains blew all over the screen.
Big Sis' Charlotteen - out corner of my eye..,
Breezing in from work,
Dropping ash down her blouse, reading mail .,
Blown smoke, through nose..,
hanging.
Cigarette in teeth..
'Ma.. gotta' date.., got any microwave?'
Flick of wrist ., I laugh out..,
More aliens annihilated..,
Aunt Elz-beth leaned in closer.,
spilt her special 'medice'-whisky peering too far in.,
A glance ., it dropping off her chin .
'These 'puter things..,
That ain't no life' I hit pause. 'An' look at all the harm it brings'
Depressing the button..,
While all about,
Rolled tobacco, tugged, swigged, bickered, argued and snickered,
But nothing came through that, 'thick skull o' mine'.
Nothing got delivered..,
An yet.., way back when.,
O'er my shoulder.., forever..,
They all watched me save the planets..,
We all knew we were all heroes,
Kept stopping by as I solved the worlds.
Stopping by.., even now, decades away.
You are not as sweet as honey anymore,
I wish you will evaporate just like a water vapor;
You only love your bottle of whisky or your liquor,
Don’t give me a kiss, you stink! I’ll slam the door.
Pack your things and walk out,
For the first time I can be hysterical… I’ll scream and shout;
You cannot take care of me as I wanted to be stout,
Like my idol Betty Boop whose lips are so luscious when pout.
I bought this house for you and for me,
All day and night I worked hard…now, I’m so skinny;
You said, you had contributed a thing here, I don’t agree,
Just your one and only nail on the wall, am I happy?
Tonight, I will give you your last chance,
But keep yourself away from me at ten-meter distance;
Drink those perfumes then give me the last dance,
Before you’ll sleep naked on the floor and forget me babe, not hon.
May 25, 2014 6.40pm
Second Place
Contest: Slamming Season
Judged: 6/17/14
Sponsor: My fave poet, PD
Third Place
Contest: Slam The Slam
Judged: 8/28/14
Sponsor: My Beloved Poet Skat
There was no alcoholics in my family,
but there was some heavy drinking on weekends.
Personally, I kicked the habit at a very young age.
Prohibition was repealed, but not in our home county.
I was to learn later that our county was an alcohol dry county,
but the county next to ours was a very wet one, and it always
spilled into our county and made it as wet as wet could be. If for
some reason an adequate supply did not flow, there was always plenty
of 'home made stills'. I was always an inquisitive little lad and wondered
what all the fuss was about when it came to alcoholic beverages. It seemed
to make people joyful, smiley, and happy. So at around 5 or 6 years of age, I decided to take a sip of whisky, but I knew that I would have a very bad day if I got caught. There was plenty in the refrigerator and the coast was clear. It was now or never, and my venture into the world of alcohol became both 'a now and a never'. I took one drink and an internal combustion lit up within me like a fire cracker on the 4th of July. I don't know if AA existed when I was 5, but I did not need anybody's program to fix me. I both started and stopped drinking at the same time, nevermore a drink except for Holy Communion.
120520PSCtest, Story From Your Childhood Poetry Contest, L Milton Hankins
Oft’ the person remembered by a song.
Short trip to the base, in the come along.
Don’t know much about the driver,
(We were bound with military fiber…)
but the cool-cassette-high in the carpool.
(Solo was free, paid for the fuel)
A country song, so sad my heart thrums -
Kenny Rogers, his “Lucille”, marriage outcomes…
The lyrics of grim, delightfully illumined my brain.
True of Country magic and its complaining refrain.
I can hear the twang, though separated by years.
The refrain from the man broken, small & in tears.
Lucille’s conquest couldn’t get going aft’ the outburst.
Their time together, though kissed by whisky, cursed.
I think the driver was Glen. Don’t remember much,
but the lingering song - and the get along crutch.
7/3/2023
up up up up
the escalator of fortune & fame
up up up up
the bounsy frogman rises
up up up up
selling out his own kind for wealth
up up up up
now posh & proud in his green villa
up up up up
known as a bachelor in his thirties
up up up up
velvety robe on his slimy body
up up up up
pond whisky on the rocks in his glass
up up up up
expensive cigars and marble bathtubs
up up up up
forced to pay his secret tadpoles
up up up up
they call him crook and even a snake
up up up up
he lives his reckless life anyway
up up up up
he doesn’t care about the others
up up up up
thinking he’s still loved and popular
up up up up
but unfortunately for him
up up up up
the justice, the French are coming
up up up up
rises the frogman in a boiling pot
down down down down
the throats of ravenous gourmets
up up up in the heaven
that’s where that bastard certainly isn’t
Dripping slow like honey, tracing fire down my skin,
You pour into my veins, let the craving pull me in.
You're the ocean, I'm the river, and I’m drowning in your tide,
One more sip of your devotion, and I’m lost inside.
You're the whiskey on my lips,
The fevered taste I can't resist.
Every drop, every touch,
Fills my cup—I'm drunk on us.
Liquid love, flowing deep,
Like a poison, like a dream.
Set me burning, set me free,
You're the flood that covers me.
Liquid love, no escape,
Sweet addiction, I can't break.
Pour your fire, fill my soul,
Drink me down, don’t let me go.
Silken waves of amber kiss the edges of my mind,
Every glance a slow surrender, every word a glass of wine.
You're the flood, I'm the ember, and you pull me out to sea,
Dizzy, spinning, sinking deeper--baby, swallow me.
You're the whiskey on my lips,
The fevered taste I can't resist.
Every drop, every touch,
Fills my cup--I'm drunk on us.
Liquid love, flowing deep,
Like a poison, like a dream.
Set me burning, set me free,
You're the flood that covers me.
Liquid love, no escape,
Sweet addiction, I can't break.
Pour your fire, fill my soul,
Drink me down, don’t let me go.
Fill me up, let me drown,
I won’t stop, I won’t come down.
You're the rush, you're the heat,
Pull me under, set me free.
Liquid love, flowing deep,
Like a poison, like a dream.
Set me burning, set me free,
You're the flood that covers me.
Liquid love, no escape,
Sweet addiction, I can't break.
Pour your fire, fill my soul,
Drink me down, don’t let me go.
Dripping slow like honey, tracing fire down my skin...