Short Tavern Poems

Henrietta
That's my father there
why pour him more liquor?...

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enormous tavern
goddess

eating me 
like pan

drooling sweat and honey...

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The grey crows light cavern, wailing in web tavern
as lemurs juice pattern, sky from earth to Saturn....

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In the tavern
Of Poetry flows the wine of 
Love, feelings, wisdom, 
Vision, sense and sagacity
Drunkenness permissible...

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A Midwestern small town
  Her lone tavern shut down 

The Motel 6 boarded up too
  We'll keep the light off for you...

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Dutch born was Jan Steen
tavern&brewery were his scene
His painting has much vitality
filled with bold colour to see...

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HALLOWEEN TAVERN

a dark spooky night ~
where did all the pumpkins go?
jack-o-lanterns lit.

10/1/2017
Questionku...

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Welcome to the Tavern off Love
the old and wise and the young and foolish we charge a dollar
for lovers and poets the wine is free...

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her sore dogs are barking
tavern wench rests on wine barrel
taking a break away from groping hands
sipping a bit of wine
so she can face the next hour...

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Seeking the local coven’s cavern
a pumpkin rolled into a tavern
	he met with a wise wizard
	who slit him stem to gizzard
now he’s a gruesome jack ‘o lantern...

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There once was an alien from Mars
Who went ape over fast women and cars
   He'd searched all the stars
   Every tavern and bar
Thinking: "Sure wish those women were ours!"...

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It was not a night for work
the moon was at the full
high over the sea
erotic and disturbing
l could hear the gypsy singer in the tavern below
self assured as usual she had a slightly distant air about her !...

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lover a tavern
                                        wine of delight in her lips
                                               stupor a poem








© rajat kanti chakrabarty
4th December,2014...

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It was not a night for work
the moon was at the full
high over the sea
erotic and disturbing
l could hear the gypsy singer in the tavern below
self assured as usual she had a slightly distant air about her !...

Read More

It was not a night for work
the moon was at the full
high over the sea
erotic and disturbing
l could hear the gypsy singer in the tavern below
self assured as usual she had a slightly distant air about her !...

Read More

Shabby Temple 
O' the tavern is; 

Inn for the loneliness; 

but alone I’m in crowded, 

none listens to anyone; 

and then an intoxicated brain
swings into drowsy self!
bubbling the word,
muttering the poem
…..


-April 10, 2019, Chattogram...

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Rumor has it that right before his big fall,
Humpty Dumpty'd been seen drinking in a tavern near the mall.
So all the king's horses and all the kings men
knew perfectly well Humpty was gonna fall again ~
it was something that they just couldn't forestall.
...

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The
Jukebox 
Played the same
Song for twice time
As a petition 
In the sordid tavern 
For a man that misses the  
Dear one forever departure
Drowning his grief with a shot of a
Fermented and recognized brand of whiskey






Nayda Ivette
12-26-2015...

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About my deceased friend Terry.
Will have service for him Thursday
with a wake at Gun Tavern in
Basildon, Essex, England

Pint Will Raise

For Terry a pint will raise
And offer him much praise
Distinguished gentleman has been
Heaven's gates are open again
Where Terry now rests and stays....

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At the tavern he ordered a scotch
For the cute blonde that glanced at his crotch
If you’ve got some time
On this stool I’ll climb
and show you my new E.S.P. watch


It tells me things by telepathy
I know that you’re not wearing panties
“I am so she said
You must be misled”
But it runs an hour fast you see...

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Grandma Joyce
Is slingin on a Monday
Hangin with the boys
The brews and the indiscretion
Of indie screech
Its what she knows
Its what defines her
Semblance of maturity
As tavern talk ripples
With her grounded sense
Of grand illusions
And a single Yuengling
Cuz Grandma Joyce
Needs to wet her whistle
Even more than you.

(5/13/13)...

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outword(ed-gar)ammered
with(all-en)joymeant
(poe)trees

for-aging
for-roots

rye-penning
in-words

pain-full
force-shadows

oft-times
hell-loose

innate-shuns
care-acting

sleep-less
new-rot-tic-talks

a-bell-ing
for-tunes

knots-so
past-or

meant


stan sand




















(poe)ssessions...

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I can see a 
pale green 
farmhouse 
against the 
nearly neon 
vegetation 
of the cornfields. 
Soybean sprouts 
are shooting 
up here and 
there. 
  
In this place, 
there is no 
existentialism 
or angst 
questing 
against our 
sanity. 
  
There is no 
god or God. 
  
Just the cornstalks, 
the soybean sprouts, 
and the pale green 
farmhouse 
in the distance....

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In the deep of the sleep i was taken to the writers tavern
a place warm and cozy where they took beer in metallic mugs
a place where a mortal who has shared a story never before
heard or seen in mortal eyes is honored.. i took my cup of tea
and was driven back home.. the writers tavern a warm place
where immortals and mortals mingle enjoying accomplishment







lewis k nyaga...

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The chambermaid of the tavern her name Marie 
Alluring captivating fair maiden all would agree 
Smiling flirting undoubtedly her majored degree 
Scurrying making the rounds not missing a knee
Many a fool who has sat on a stool including me
Envisioned her with enchanted dreams of fantasy 
In no way am I saying she charges by an hourly fee
Just peddling spirits of seduction be her pedigree....

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