Pubs Poems

Country Pubs

Bubbling babbling burbling banter from the bar..

Sup hush….memory lane trip...Proustian rush..pleasingly tickled. 

Plushly ebbed…spidery beer swirls webbed…lace whirls..grace dimpled dappled jar..

Perch...parched pagans besmirch..sip...druid fluid drip..Iris’s secular church..

Venerate yesteryear dips…commemorate Faustian fillips....teasingly pickled..

Smug treacle toned thatch rugs hugs sturdy slabs.. shrugs..

Tugs tussling tree torn trusses and trestles....

Trumpets tradition.. crisp crumpets in flames..sedition flickering..

Like sassy strumpets calling

Categories: pubs, culture,
Form: Free verse

Many-Hued Pubs Bid Me Welcome

Many-hued pubs bid me welcome
   As would friends on the street
And so does Cromwell Bridge
   Where long ago we first met.

I see the fields where we played
   And plucked up the kerry violets.
I gaze out over the dark bay
   Reflecting our lives as glass.

Memories live but a

Categories: pubs, friendship, memory, remember,
Form: Rhyme

Rain-Middleton

Rain pouring on pubs
Grey cotton weaving up high
Sprinkling on churches

Categories: pubs, england, environment, nature, places,
Form: Haiku

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

In the Pubs

Never bare your soul,
otherwise, you will most probably 
have created your own black hole

Categories: pubs, pain,
Form: Free verse

Scotland's Monster Dinner

SCOTLAND'S MONSTER DINNER 

          walking upon the moors of Scotland    i saw a sprite who
became a unicorn -- she mated with Kelpie:  kissing
therianthropy --> she rode the unicorn:   shedding her skin--     
saltire!
I when to Restaurant Andrew Fairlie -- 
manager said someone got mutilated late last night -- upon the 
moors

Categories: pubs, allusion, scary,
Form: Free verse

Erin

Erin, for a girl who embodies Ireland
by Michael R. Burch

All that’s left of Ireland is her hair—
bright carrot—and her milkmaid-pallid skin,
her brilliant air of cavalier despair,
her train of children—some conceived in sin,
the others to avoid it. For nowhere
is evidence of thought. Devout, pale, thin,
gay, nonchalant, all radiance. So fair!

How can men look upon her and

Categories: pubs, ireland,
Form: Sonnet

Main Drag Pubs

Weekly this sorry procession
rolls out a parade of wannabe
kings and queens,
heirs unapparent to the realms of nothingness.

Girls with elaborate hairdos,
boys drenched in cheap cologne;
drawn to the main drag pubs,
solitary ventilators of the monochrome kingdom.

Factory gates closed, chained, padlocked;
the great Friday escape, a weekend parole
‘till Monday morning cracks a brutal dawn
of hangovers and regret.

Girlish expectation of

Categories: pubs, life, people, sad, social,
Form: Blank verse