Short Brewers Poems

He's drunk as a skunk on St Patrick’s Day
Too much Guinness stopped him getting a lay
For he had brewers droop
So he had to regroup
He’ll have to wait for a roll in the hay

17th March 2015...

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Narratives of history is eloquent
Society is a pot of brewing beer
Rulers are the licensed brewers
Protesters come in fooling as bugs
Sitting on the pot only to urinate
Spoiling the brew that give joy
And the blind narratives role on...

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I like a beer that’s hoppy,
With a bitter, pungent bite.
I never drink ‘til sloppy,
So imbibing is all right.

But when I have my nightly brew,
I want it to assert;
And every sip should help renew
In manners quite overt.

With hue of bronze and foamy head,
When poured, it should invite.
A lesser beer won’t do instead,
Especially if “lite.”

An I.P.A.* that’s filled with hops
Is drink for which I yearn;
So brewers, I will offer props
And daily, I’ll return.

*India Pale Ale...

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Paula is the queen of the witches,
While some are just learning to fly.
Many are brewers of poetic broth,
And I sigh for Halloweens gone by.

There’s only so much space in the dark sky
On this single night of the year. 
Some will pick up their brooms and jockey for room
While the rest of us cower in fear.

It’s only the brave or fool hardy
Who join witches on a Halloween.
Some would rather be scared than one who has dared
And then nevermore has been seen.


By: Joyce...

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