Pints Poems | Examples

4:09:05

4:09:05
A familiar time which plays on repeat in my mind
Get the opposite of high, but I don’t know why
Cutting pounds but not just my weight
I’m not trying to over-exaggerate
But I think it’s time to say goodbye.

Being alone isn’t the same as feeling it
I just wanna stop, I just wanna quit

They say all it takes is just a call
Down the rabbit hole you fall
Running down an empty hall
I cant seem to recall
If it’s really worth it all

Looking out the window, all
I hear is a loud rainfall
Beats me staring at a wall
Or downing pints of alcohol 
Not afraid for if i fall
The flowers I’ll receive by haul
I’ll feel better overall
4:09:05 is my call

blanket

I wish upon sweetest breathe,
Cracks egg  who knew death
with a hammer & choice to make
a war within a house by the lake....

Candid are toffee stickiness
rots white of baby's teeth,
shiny strands pelts to touch
Intimate hug or live without

Never the trophy for a runner
in focus of beating drummer
never my fault if there's rum
to fill my sickness spice of tum

Drools all, my security blanket
Can we pump and crank it?
sings to a day in my ghostly life,
pints to declare Poppins delivers
What the hell if I'm robbing my creator?

The sky
blackens
absence
burst
clapping
wings of
swan
not flapping
disappears
apple of skin
intimacy....

You can’t say that dad!

They say my dad’s humor is dry,
but after some pints by and by,
he gets lubricated
and jokes unabated
says things make you wish you could die!

Feel the Merchant's Wrath

‘If you prick us, do we not bleed? 
   If you tickle us, do we not laugh? 
      If you poison us, do we not die? 
         And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?’
             ~ (The Merchant of Venice, Act 3, Scene 1)


'Tis a fair merchant that I claim to be   
Lowly seller of wares and grain for seed
An honest man, but if one dares cheat me
Clobbering I shall do, until they bleed

My body is off limits, so hands off
No laughter shall thee hear if I'm tickled
Nay!  A frown given to thee and a scoff
With sour brine I'll throw, thee shall be pickled!

Poison me, peasant and If I'm not dead
I shall slip Romeo's drink in your ale
In your pints be wary and live with dread
For in Venice, your body shall float pale

My merchant's wrath shall be deadly, if wronged
I shall prick thee with a fork, double pronged

Under The Rainbow

Patrick’s piquant penchants are beer and Claire, 
At the pub scene the two don’t seem to square;
Patrick’s pints, more than a few,
Manhood cannot follow through -
An Irish drunkard’s pot of gold malware.

The Road

after a couple of pints of Guiness you will fall to meet the road

Namby-pamby trance

The light is on so now dance! 
No more living life in a nanby-pamby trance.

You’re eighteen now boy no more. 
Man now you are, forget all those ‘lessons’ from before.

Men are men and know the score.
They’re there for you take galore!

Stand up straight and be a lad!
Pints and shots must now be had!

The wild in you now must be fed.
Then tamed your wild will be until you’re dead!

The world is cold, the world is weird.
You’re nothing until you’ve bed a score or more and proved your ‘hood’!

So this is what it is to be? 
Remember success is who you know not who you be! 

The loner types think too much and try to feel. 
They look at life and try to find the quiet deal. 

A thoughtful appreciation is frowned upon. Stag nights and strippers in Marbella is where you belong?

Walk your path, find your way. 
If materialistic proof and money is your ‘hey’. I’m sure that life will treat your days and years in this superficial, unreflective, simplistic way.

Bloody Valentine

She drew the blood from my neck and whispered 
‘My bloody valentine!’

We would transform into bats
And would soar throughout the city
Looking for fresh prey together 

We’d find the red meat
and tear the souls to pieces 
Devouring the life essence
through pints of blood

Our union has never been so strong 
two hunters seeking together 
the pulsing heartbeats of the innocence

And then in silence 
In the darkness of the night
we would sip on each others blood
as only lovers can do

For we are vampires
and the night is ours

Fish n Taties

He knew all there was to know
About the frying game 
Haddock, cod, skate and ling
All treated just the same.
A deft flick of the wrist to draw
Each piece  through the batter
Then the basket lowered into 
The hot oil’s spit and splatter.
A basket full chips
Placed alongside
For food of the gods
Quickly deep fried.
Well wrapped in clean paper
When the order was complete
Or the wrapping left open
To be eaten on the street.

Salt pepper vinegar
To add to the flavour
Giving a hot meal for 
Any person to savour.
Sits well on top of pints
Calms a stomach down 
Known to all and sundry as
The best chippie in town.
The third generation 
Carrying on from his dad
A point he emphasised
When he ran his local ad.
Proudly above his shop was
Displayed his family name
And they knew all there was
To know about the frying game.

Bottled Vinegar

In these days of austerity
It’s getting to be a treat
To go out for a few pints
And have a bite to eat,
So, Please Mr Pub Landlord
Grant me just a little wish
Bring back the vinegar bottle
So I can splash me bit of fish.

Those little plastic sachets
You’ve generously placed there
Supposedly have perforation
But they just refuse  tear.
I need that essential liquid 
Over me chips and  cod
To transpose it from wonderful
To meal fit for a demi god.
 
I sit there by the mimute
Growing more and more tense
Looking at the pile of sachets
That just won’t dispense 
In despair I eat my meal
Before it grows cold
But it’s just not the same 
Without that liquid of gold.

I shall add that designer to 
That list of those folk that
I’d like to meet in a dark alley
When I’ve got  my baseball bat
A pox on the plastics industry
Once thought a packaging solution
Now a source of anger and despair
And the growing oceanic pollution.

I’m just a simple type of being
So many modern things I hate
Just give me fish and taties
Hot, served on a real plate
And I reall dont think that 
I’m asking rather a lot
For vinegar in a real bottle
And salt and pepper in a pot.

My Pal Dan

Sat writing this, in memory of my pal Danny K
Just a few pints and a couple packets crisps, is what we used to say
I just wanted you to know, ill be forever grateful that we met
Ill hold on to the memories we made, all too good to forget
So much left to say, now there just words left unspoken
Hard to believe your really gone, many hearts left broken
You changed my life in ways you'll never know
Absolutely devastated it was your time to go
Off up to paradise pal, where they only take the best
May you be at peace, may you be at rest

Jack 5

Drinking 20 pints regularly, done with consummate ease 
Add a bottle of vodka on top if you please
Mixing beer, wine and spirits what a crazy thinker
All the time believing I was a social drinker
There is no one but me to blame
So much behaviour laden with shame
Throwing up in a public place
Never a good look, a complete disgrace
A time lived mainly in anger and lust
Argue, get drunk then a pelvic thrust
A continual cycle of adventure and thrills
Shyness masked with a cloak of inebriated skills
Any sort of drink a permanent extension of my hand
Ejected from many places, even sometimes banned
Often brash and extremely loud
Looking back it doesn’t make me proud
Stereotyped actor I no longer wanted to be
Had to change if future years I wished to see
No alcohol at all for 10 years now
Those that knew me then can’t believe how

Santas silly snifters

Bright eyed red nosed reindeer,
Raring frantically to go,
Waiting for that iconic signal,
A belting “ho ho ho”.

Flying gifts down children’s chimneys,
One house two house three house four,
With a beer at every stop point,
Ten pints twenty thirty ………… snore.

St Nick was sleeping at the reigns,
Rudolph does not know the way!
Has St Nick not learnt the rules by now?
You never drink and sleigh!

Little girls that longed for primrose dolls,
With sunshine golden hair,
Received tangerines, old whiskey jars,
And knitted underwear!

Blitzed fell out his reigns,
Prancer lost his magic bell,
All the little boys in Germany,
Got gift tags with “noël”.

Santa wakes up discombobulated,
Staring at a sign that read “South Pole”,
“Where are half my deer” he thought,
Has my years finally took its toll?

“I will continue with just one deer” he roars,
My sleigh will fly on Christmas cheer,
And what’s the fastest way to spread this you ask?
Just one more Christmas beer.
Rudolph’s eyes grow wide with fear.

Disruptive Pattern Material

I was first picked up
In a cast-off shop in Liverpool; 
Surrounded by racks of seasoned shirts
Bearing names of old soldiers.

“Draper” draped on an immature frame
In a collage of brown and green, 
Overlapping and enveloping
Any semblance of a past self.

Baby-faced and militant,
The paradoxical camo in an urban warzone.
Slogans painted from shoulder to shoulder
In pungent, nuclear-white bathroom paint.

The smell is burned to memory,
Singeing nose hairs with chemical vigour,
Of dance-generated sweat, upturned pints,
A lover’s aftershave, the sting of cigarette smoke.

Washed once, maybe twice,
But anxious eyes watched the spin cycle,
Fearing specks of dislodged paint
Covering my muddy canvas.

Now “Draper” drapes a matured frame,
The only scent that lingers is
The petrichor of Northern summer
Tie-dyed deep into my fibres.

I bare a name that isn’t mine,
Memories of a life I did not live,
Scars from battles I never saw,
And honours that aren’t mine to claim.

Dive Bar

A steady hand lifts the glass mug of the next regret.
He twirled me on the dance floor, left stained by blue collar shoeprints and leaky pints.
In the corner, the referee refuses to let there be a fair fight, 
favoring the heavyweight champion of the pool table and 
fatty knuckles sever the ego of a cheeky, toothy grin.
The coins jumping in his pocket show off their boogie moves,
and we dance, and dance and dance until the sun returns sanity to the humble joint. 
At the dive bar on Westchester Street, the rules are blurred, and happiness is disguised.

• Short Pints Poems
• Famous Pints Poems
• Best Pints Poems
• Read Pints Poems
• Long Pints Poems
• Pints Quotes