Short Pubs Poems

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

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

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A lady who frequented pubs
wound up with besotted old duds.
	Englishmen, she said, drink,
	far too much, I think –
I should look elsewhere for hubs....

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Happy folks go to pubs to have fun
and stay there until darkness meets dawn;
a big sign in caps says,
" Free drinks to sexy girls
and cowboys who don't carry a gun! "...

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The clock on Big Ben will soon 
strike midnight
And the pubs are closed
Where do we go
and what do we do?

England still owns the rock
where Napoleon died

Always is a long time
and the Queen is dead...

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Pubs and clubs he scours
In the wee small hours
To use his seductive powers
On the maidens he devours
Then in the early hours
The maidens he deflowers  
Are left like wilting flowers
He then returns to gothic towers
Where he then showers...

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Farewell to the pubs
the bars and the stores

Farewell to saloons
and the swinging of doors

Farewell to the nights
of stumbling home

Farewell to the fights
that hurt me alone

Farewell to the grip 
of the bottle at last

I say to the demons
You can kiss my ass....

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Over striding downs with grassy scrub
and into the trees with clumps of shrub

Beechwood,downlands and common heath
in earthy limeston inches beneath

The basil spreading six feet tall
by a freshwater spring ,trickling small

Along shaded lanes with gates and stiles
and wayside pubs,to rest awhile...

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We had the opportunity
A real dissipation of our emptiness
But why be like everyone else
We decided to court our boredom

It sat with us
Edged its way
Into fallow moments
Outside the pubs spill out
Violence is the nature
The child of their boredom

We shut the window
Turn our heads back to Camus...

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If you are going to frequent a pub today
Make it in Cork, though it be far away
Make it Murphy’s, for it is St. Paddy’s day
And while you are there, you had better pray.

The Irish are wild, never dull or gray.
They always talk blarney, want to have the last say.
If you want me to come, I will be there said Jay
I love Irish pubs, there is plenty of play!...

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N ights hungry nourish ones
I   nterested parties accede
G ready diner's  images, yum!!!
H ot coffees improved caffeine strewn 
T raditional diet feeds pork back

O  rganization outside restaurants
U  sual  snacks urban grub
T  rendy pubs typical menu for a,  night out


Written words by James Edward Lee Sr  2020...

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As a young man you were in all the fun places I wanted to be,
didn't mind how you dressed in a bottle or a glass.

You had me in your embrace for days on end under your spell
I lost work, love and almost my life.

Years later as I pass pubs and bars, I see through your tricks
cavorting with others leading them to hell.

I still have dark clouds around me but none with the potential of you...

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I feel I need to escape life sometimes.

Get caught on some
black and white, grainy film,
as I am driving into the unknown,
listening to records.

Sitting in pubs,
drinking whisky,
hanging around with 
Lee Marvin’s sons.

Taking pictures of elusive moments.
Writing, acting, laughing, inhaling.

Living.
Like a bad seed.

The life I would never have.

On someone’s dusted Super 8
...

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City lights sparkling,
mirrored in the Bay,
multi-colored jewels— 
amber, rose, and green,
crystal, diamond-white—
gracing bridge and buildings—
mansions, pubs, and shops—
fanciful reflections of
countless points of intrigue.
Neurons, lives entwining—
schemes, ideas, and passions—
complex as a motherboard,
vibrant as a heartbeat,
fertile and entrancing,
as though fashioned by a
cosmic magician’s spell....

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"The waking light,
 Finds a missing man
And her wailing ending
Yet the tears still ran.

She trails her sobs
Down her stair
Across daylight pubs
To what Sunny shares

Underprivileged Sunny’s getting a bit 
Gloomy
But Sunny’s gloomy getting a bit
Boring for Girl-”

*Sigh*
“Right at the spine
I felt the bones crunch beneath the
Bloody tires of mine.

And these sobs 
And rain
And blood
Down the drain”...

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Bliss is the most peace stored in the abyss .
I go searching , checked the night clubs .
Had the most intimacy in the pubs 
Drugs , pills , name it , we all popped 
Still no peace ,even when I go overseas 
Yet fleas thrive on the carcass of my ignorance ...
         
     Ye my sweet lady , Bliss ,.is the most 
Peace stored in the abyss of my mind .
I should love mine . Love yours . Peace .



      18:05:2018......

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Sailing on the sweet river Shannon.
Ireland's river ways central vein.
Sleeping soundly on a river barge.
Listening to the pit patting rain.

Stopping engine to eat each evening 
Gazing at a flamingo pink sky.
Making many friends in local pubs.
Until it is time to say goodbye.

Rising slowly when at every lock.
Chatting happily with other folk.
Out on their daily riverside walk.
Who like to stop for a little talk....

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Once were dinners a'deux, you see,
Was it only a few months, or a century?
Once were schools abuzz with kids,
Teachers agog to see what did they did,
Once were universities, 
Alive with youthful dreams, indeed,
Once were pubs with beers,
Once were football here,
These are viral times, my dears,
Once were bushfires too,
A horror story for me and you,
Yes, Stephen King wrote this year,
Once were Oz fun times, not fears!...

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If you get to Dublin, do the Literary Pub Crawl
Visit the Bailey, The Bachelor, McDaids, Mulligans
Places journalists used to congregate after work
in the 1920’s, when Dublin had three newspapers

James Joyce, Samuel Beckett and Flann O’Brien might appear
They would be ghosts of course, but you might catch a glimpse
They were known to frequent these pubs, being Irish and all
If you get to Dublin, do the literary Pub Crawl...

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were in an oot eh aw the pubs
sent looking for my da.
i hope we find him soon 
coz wait tae u see my ma.
shes gawn mental shouting an bawling
coz theres nothing tae eat.
shes pacing aroon the room 
shes stamping her feet.
shes looking oot the windey
coz she hears um singing
coming up the street.
shes raging an a hink shes gonna greet.
there ma da stoats in way a massive grin
aw stop aw that moaning 
will yeh big yin....

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were in an oot eh aw the pubs
sent looking for my da.
i hope we find him soon 
coz wait tae u see my ma.
shes gawn mental shouting an bawling
coz theres nothing tae eat.
shes pacing aroon the room 
shes stamping her feet.
shes looking oot the windey
coz she hears um singing
coming up the street.
shes raging an a hink shes gonna greet.
there ma da stoats in way a massive grin
aw stop aw that moaning 
will yeh big yin....

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It is December!
Chilly-cold air all around
Windy air pluck trees' leaves
With branches bare without coverings
And cramped buds waiting to bloom.

Dark afternoons, soon we see
Early bells, ring aloud!
Playing lads, all agog
"It is bed time....", mumbled, busy lasses.

Cladded gentlemen, from heads to knees
Walking briskly down the streets
For warm whiskeys at pubs.

Wintry air in steads and in woods
Autumn is here, an ally of Winter....

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Panic and Chaos English Style

Chaos looming on English shores
Panic sweeping through the land
Wailing cries - pubs run out of beer
Parliment for calm implores.

9-1-21
Contest: Your Best Four Line Light Verse No.2
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins

On September 1, 2021 the Washington Post ran an article about pubs running out of beer due to the supply chain crisis.  For England this is truly a CRISIS!  Pray for beer - I think!
Rhyme Scheme ABCA...

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Today it's raining elsewhere,
Tomorrow they have a chance of snow,
How do we get elsewhere,
If we ever choose to go

We are getting nowhere,
Racking our feeble brains
My mind is Elsewhere
Can I get there by train

They have gone elsewhere,
Is this elsewhere near?
Do they have pubs elsewhere?
It would be nice to share a beer.

Elsewhere must be somewhere,
I'll get lost somewhere; I fear,
It's getting complicated.
I think I'll stay right here!...

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Happy New Year, it’s time to fly,
Get together with others, chime,
Collect yourself and inwards cry,
Scream n’ shout at New Year’s time,

Pull down the old if need be,
Flare and dance, temper the won;
Mime, hold to ransom gaunt and Lei,
Astound the self, the gut n’ tonne.

Jig around the Christmas tree,
In the halls and pubs real bright,
Lights will own you, squint or glee,
‘Til surroundings become amie tight.

Happy New Year. Cheers to you all....

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