Short Drunkard Poems

Ernest Hemingway
Not a drunkard on paper
Words ending too soon...

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you fool the drunkard
but, not the sleeping feline
i might turn nasty...

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Rather barf in this shady club bar, 
Than hurl at home before my girl....

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Poetic sensitiveness is the liquor of the drunkard-wise

©Mahtab Bangalee...

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Croak, croak frog sang
drunkard heard, and was frightened
frog jumped on his back...

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Human is feeder
Mosquito- the blood drinker
Night-natural bar 


© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
19/09/2021...

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Drowning in whisky,
drunkard of time
Toasting the losers
—dying unrhymed

(McGarvey’s Saloon-Annapolis: June, 2022)...

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o' I’m drunkard on the path of God and humanity
without unity world is empty bottle of whiskey


-January 29,  2019 Chattogram...

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A drunkard while piddling
was struck by this fact incidental
that holding a beer requires
the same hand as at a urinal.

...

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I’m staring at the empty bottles 
On the floor. It’s time I start doing
Something, anything, to help you.
I call your name but, you will not reply....

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Tanka 6

        I heard a drunkard
        an empty bottle in hand
        shouting “I want to”
        under dim light corner edge
        of the bar “I want to die!”...

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My drunkard muse can be a curse.
Pouring shots full of poetry,
craving a sober history.
Tipsy rhymes reverb in reverse,
so ink's teetotal in free verse. ...

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The demon grog
lets loose the hog, 
and nastiness comes by, 
alcohol brings out the troll, 
And a grumpy drunkard cries. Don

Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/alcohol_494048...

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Drunkard walking funny
Swaying to and fro.

‘Must be very windy’ 
Thinking to himself.

Drunkard walking funny
Worrying not to fall.

Absorbed in all his funk
Being all punch-drunk....

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The Drunkard staggered into a bar
And slurred that he just wrecked his car

                   He added, "Wha th' hell,
                   Isle... zit 'ere ...az-spell..."

Then he sang while he banged his guitar!...

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mind
the port
anchorage
many love boats
discharge hard drinking
drunkard for traveler
many times who came in heart
but no time I caged the unknown
in me still, I wash heart by the love 


- Friday, July 5, 2019 Chattogram...

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Drink and drink 
Whole of inner,
Spit and drizzle
The bitter of wines
For that you came, Oh thrist!

Woe! What you drank!
Veins steal each other's
The drought cracked flesh,
O drunkard wander in me
Where you else have to wander....

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World- the inn this is
I'm the gypsy 

caravan of life comes
from unknown and 
goes to unknown

in liquor drinking time
I've here; drunkard
numb body has no value

and become I the 
configure of oblivion


-November 11, 2018 Chattogram...

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I'm a 'poetaholic', wandering like a drunkard, 
until my ink flies like the mind's fledglings,
leaving behind an empty nest, 
which once kept them safe.
Some words are not for everyone's eyes, 
so I hide them behind sober metaphors....

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Mumbai’s summer heat …twice a year…. May and October
Sweltering, humid, perspiration beads dripping down 
Like a drunkard staggering in crowded trains and metro
Waiting to rush into your airconditioned office
Yes we are there… sipping sweet lemon juice 
A sweet relief to nature’s torment...

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Heaven's drunkard is the butterfly,
Tipsy on flowers, Mr. flutter-on-by:
Papier-mache wings wafting along,
He flies on currents of invisible song.

He could stop but the flowers are so many,
Beckoning with pastel faces of plenty;
At night he dreams of hot-house bouquets,
And dances with them, a fine polonaise....

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Dancing butterfly
comes to the blooming flowers,
drinks nectar to live

No old bud, new all
Flapping wings shake the body
The enamored mind

Full of sweet fragrance
Flowers there the honey inn
Like the cup-bearer

The world is like this
Full of the beauty garden
I’m drunkard to all


24.09.2020...

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a glass of wine
i drank in womb
from my mother’s artery
for ten months

by born i got that 
thousands care by heart
pure touch 
for growing up
 
my life make an inn for that
elated i’m here
O’ ELIXIR
eternal drunkard i’m

i sell the soul of hate
by dancing i buy that eternity
that is LOVE


-December 20, 2018 Chattogram...

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There once was a lawyer named Finnegan
who fought in the court of Lord Sinagain
his fervor it seems
gave judges bad dreams
so they threw HIM in jail to begin again!


*Finnegan's Wake is an Irish drinking ballad 
about a drunkard brick layer. (Layer? Lawyer oops! ;)
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qstUxos2cBs&feature=related 
Do a jig!...

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Drunkard are you, 
But my fantasy of 
You remains 
Untarnished. 

Strolling,
through trees
in Wine Country
Your kiss is 
Ever so intoxicating. 

Until you're inside
me I can't bear
this anticipation

Although we've 
Never met, and 
You probably don't 
Exist. 

You are indeed
my secret lover, 
full of surprises

And more than a
Rabbit hidden in
Your hat....

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