Short Shot Glass Poems
Short Shot Glass Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Shot Glass by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Shot Glass by length and keyword.
taking all of my pills
and vitamins to fill
a shot glass
chasing them to stop
the things that are
chasing me
with
a bottle
of wine
Form:
Shots fired drive by
Shots injected inoculations
Small consumption of alcohol
Shot glass
Projectiles
Tactical shots fired
9/6/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Deep down inside her earthen throat.
God fashioned a pearl-hearted railroad...
Her freight train soul gifted to the world.
A bouquet of thorns and blue-hearted roses.
An existence of devilish fire and heavenly rain.
Shot glass and needle and rose-stemmed champagne.
(This piece was published in Shot Glass Journal, by Muse-Pie Press, Issue #13)
Mortality
It is like an ocean wave that is alive in one moment,
then it becomes part of the ocean the next moment;
the wave is unable to be alive for eternity. The wave only exists
in photos, but not in the next few minutes……
I’m a fan of that background sound,
the world’s underlying rhythm;
Life’s glass has a melodic rim
amplified with every shot downed;
To the sharps in the air I’m bound,
it’s who I am I’m cool with that;
The wallflower among chitchat,
still I crave the quiet sometimes;
In the moments that static climbs;
solitude can calm a hood rat.
Gluggamous-fluggamous
Grandfather Thaddeus
went to the grocery store
bought him a lime
Home with tequila and
salt coated shot glass he
unceremonious
lost track of time.
Spitimy-bitimy
Grandma Penelope
done with her work early
home she did race.
One glance at Grandfather
mega-monstrosity
Grandma retreated to
Clyde's warm embrace
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
inspired by John Wulf's McWhirtle
So many echoes within glass walls;
I kind of wish my mind would quiet,
a shot glass is thrown my skin crawls;
Spider web hearts but I deny it;
You took away my love language,
bullets explode I start a riot;
Destruction somehow eases outrage
in the end it was always my choice;
It’s a path, the way out of a cage;
I’m not meant to be one of your toys,
those games I drown inside my voice.
Tripped over your intoxication
of a darkly delivered potent punch
flowing in absurd contradictions,
wallowing mid drunkenly exhilarated
gulps of denial's cursed vintage,
swallowing elixir's exhales in a shot glass
engulfing reflection's accelerated fire,
bourgeois Machiavellianism slurs topped
off machinations' idiosyncratic delusions,
'twixt boozy sips of head game’s hungover ego
a blood-letting sun
sets as slow as an amber tear
in a shot glass
dotty is lost in oz
ruby slippers
run on a treadmill
of long summer evenings
avocados turn brown
drowned by a late light
a vein is open
watching eyes water
over a crimson gash
a gush
bleeds out
into a hoodwink
then sinks inside
a darkening cowl
an infant
wails
in a witch's
scrawny arms
none see
the birthing knife