A Pint of lager.
I did my best
To be a middle-class person
Drank good wine
That is what people of elevated taste do
I never liked wine
Upmarket vinaigrette
I only drink beer these days
Finding my way back to my roots
Those days, when we drank big glasses of lager
And criticized a fine writer
Someone as holy as Knut Hamsun.
We wanted to impress the girls, so I wore
A French beret, a serious intellectual who read
Every article I could come across before
Voicing an opinion
So we said many stupid things
But you cannot be wise if you have
Never been a dolt.
I have lost my precious
mien, it is so
Tiring to be serious about oneself.
People started running,
for buses, taxis, trains,
with umbrellas no defence,
against the wind and rain,
a drowned rat cycled past,
then disappeared down a lane,
when lightening flashed, I dashed,
hoping to dry out again.
I shot past the pub’s “welcome” sign,
“No Prams or Pushchairs Inside”,
then scrutinised the menu,
for something not micro’d or fried,
with my paper, pint, pasty, and peas,
I sat by the warm fireside,
waiting for the storm to pass,
and brighter weather outside.
I sit here
wondering
about it all.
The only problem
is, all is always
way too much.
Perhaps
I could find
a way, to
pint-size it!
A mere mortal
I am to AI.
A demi tasse slurp,
a tiny thought bubble,
blowing in the wind,
pieced to pop with puny plunk,
just a pip spat out.
My brain drained to a pitiful
paltry piddle, into
the insatiable sea
of AI's knowledge bank.
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.
Have the word's
Fancy a Pint
At the Pub
Ever sounded so good
As today
Cheers
See you there
Make mine a double
Get the round in
Lot's to catch up on
Since we last met
Mick, Mike and McGee
Were at the pub together
Just sitting at the bar
Talking about work, and the weather
When Mick looks down and sees a fly,
floating on the froth of his beer
Motions for The Bartender, saying
"What in the hell we have here"
The Bartender sees the fly
Then looked Mick straight in the face
I'll pour a fresh one my good friend
And he did so, employing great hast
It wasn't a moment till Mike, found the same
Floating around in his brew
He pulled out the fly, pressed the glass to his lips
And drank it until it was through
McGee saw the same when he gazes in his pint
And quick, pulled the fly from his stout
And shaking him by his wee little wings
Demanding that he spit it out !
Give me a pint of ale for I have signed
aboard the Queen weighing anchor first light
when she gives sail for Java’s trade of kind.
But I am having a good time this night
and me thinks a pint may wet whistle fine.
Then after ale booze makes shore time just right
If you chance hearing curses, they aren’t mine.
Tis my misfortune loving great the sea
truth told, all veins are stowed with beer and brine
Before mast plays a place where a man’s free,
belay, think you not oceans always kind
About my deceased friend Terry.
Will have service for him Thursday
with a wake at Gun Tavern in
Basildon, Essex, England
Pint Will Raise
For Terry a pint will raise
And offer him much praise
Distinguished gentleman has been
Heaven's gates are open again
Where Terry now rests and stays.
The last pint
He ordered a couple bottles and one
And said an extra one he still want
Seating by the counter late at one,
Staring at couples dancing gracefully the night
And remembering his own days of might
Another shot of Johnny walker
And tears were running freely down his face
For the once so sweet love had now gone bitter
Yet those sweet memories still linger hither
But he couldn’t ever again get back thither
So he emptied the bitter liquid glass after glass
And the tears flowed barrel after barrel
His brain span, whizzed and arched
His heart punched his ribs and sprinted
As his rib cages threatened to let go
For the pain was too much for a wounded soul
And the liquor too strong for a broken heart
But glass after glass he still refilled anyway
As his last bit of strength bowed and gave way
His eyes got a summer and the racing heart a winter
And then. . .
And then he reluctantly pulled out the revolver
He sighed and drained the last pint
As he planted the cold lethal piece of copper in his brain
oh great tremble
how many days of no eat
king oscar
quelle sardines
let us open a can
nothing to worry your'e not new at this
and those beans you call them mouton
for a shave and deux couilles lets knit a tricot in the great bank of America
I thought I sent you down my belly,
What are you doing in my head?
You conniving old shoe! You bitter brew
Go away from me, be forever gone
I’m finally done with you…!
Wait, wait –hic up-! I over reacted
Give me another sip…?
One more before I go…
Of course we’re bestttt… still friends –hic up-!
I was being fu….. Silly
Michael
A pint of the god machine
Surfing the digital space
drifting
and sifting throughout the net
to find the key
and yet it never appears
so as I might fear
there is a fee
to pay for knowledge
little universe in a box
and I’m trapped in a state of mind I cannot describe
strange and stranger still yet
there is a way about machines I don’t quite understand, as I’m sitting in a
space of not my own creation being yearned on by beats I did not breath life
into, and still yet I drift and pseudo-surf throughout the space of cyber
and I’m lost
I cannot find my desire
A Pint of Bitter…sure-
At the registrar office we´re getting married
when I noticed on her papers she had been
married 5 times….hold on you never told me
this, I thought you had been married once and
had a daughter with him. I have of think about
this marriage left she accosted me in the street
and said; but what about the caterers, sausage
rolls and pies?
Cheshire; rain and I dislike indigestible food.
I a walked into a pub and had chicken in a basket
with chips and a pint of beer. Her brother came in
and 12 pints of beer later I agreed to marry his sister.
The rest was a blur working men´s clubs and more beer.
The English working class is a tribe and I didn´t fit in.
I went back to sea again but that bloody piece of paper
with my name on took years to erase.
Those pint glass bottomed spectacles
are staring up at me
as you gurgle down another beer
and burp and boff with glee.
Gone are your inhibitions
your humanity and pride,
you're acting like an animal
now that alcohol's inside.
You're acting kind of foolish
like I've never seen before,
the kind of things you wouldn't do
if sober as before.
Gone is the man I used to know
the gent with love and care,
now when if you return at night
our home's a lion's lair.
Not realizing you're losing us
by being out from three,
you're spending all the money
on the booze not rent or tea.
You're married to the drinker's tap
unbalanced and disturbed,
our wardrobe's not a public lav
your senseless lunacy's absurd!
Now take off those pint glass spectacles
when you dare to look at me
you're killing off the you inside
along with love of family.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.