Short Cask Poems

as aged-wine's flavor does grow
many girdles graced your cask
as short shelf life of apples
your rotting core stinks...

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Merry Christmas Soupers
Don't be poet poopers
as you Don your Merry mask
sip lightly from the cask
remember to Uber in a stupor...

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My dad always carried a flask
But he never once wore a mask
If he were alive
I know he'd contrive
A way to walk off with a cask!...

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Just how drunk were Sven and Olaf when the tied the slats of the empty cask on their feet and headed down the mountain?

John G. Lawless
©1/16/2023...

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if I'm gonna turn the water on got to right twist the spigot

6/16/2024
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©

...

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Found Firkin to be an interesting word,;
Understand long ago often had occurred
Water would form;
When in a storm;
From a barrel or cask liquid transferred.

Jim Horn...

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A brew-loving guy from Kilkenny
is mad! His wife spent their last penny--
   on a cask of green beer?
   No, she hopes to bring cheer
with green cookies~~poor clueless Jenny!
...

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Mascara black tear fell as she looked on
the silent man
stretched lifeless
in a 
cask
full
suit he
loved for years.
Pale lips smiling.
She will never feel those soft lips again.


4 November 2020

Double Tetractys 5
Sponsor: Eve Roper...

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I am tired of me 
No, the world won't see 
I wish I was free
I desire my dreams
I hide all the screams
Life is a hard task 
I evade a cask
I wear a fake mask

I try to do norms
Tick boxes and forms 
I get caught in storms
How do others win?
Do they also sin?
Vomit to be thin 
My Mother is wise 
Stop my lies to rise...

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.

              Yes
         in the cask
          I did hide

           In Latin 
   one soul would say 
      its interior was
           foetere
             yet  
        I’ll just say
       it was putrid

           Oh yes
  the barrel was fusty
          although
  one glance at thee

             from
          wherever...

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There’s nothing so suitable as a pen—for expressing pain—
No other instrument has a stint extended as deeply within the vein.
There’s nothing so fit as a laugh to release the pent up fears—
Nothing that can break the mortared cask enough to dry the tears.
There’s nothing so perfect as a song—for escaping misery:
With each rung on the staff, a soul climbs closer to free....

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Why would one ask,
If the carving of a mask 
Is, indeed, a task 
When to simply this question ask 
Is itself a task?
Mask carvers in their job bask,
Their wine glasses beside a cask, 
Their African salad in their flask, 
Their own faces a beatific Mask…

Sweet styles of reducing the heat
From a long sitting on a seat,
A surer method of catching ones breath
Man’s enacting of the lion’s stealth....

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You Can’t Rush the Rain
	
You can’t rush the rain
Clouds choosing their offering
sprinkling
scattering
anointing	
Oh how I long for it to rain
Never my timing
the burst of cloud
color-washed sky

The tea’s strength is in the brew
seeping flavor
mingling
overtaking  water
Wine seasoned oaky from the cask
My boiled egg twelve minutes
never 10, not 9
The cheese needs to mold
And I can’t rush the rain


First published: Poetry Quartely...

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