Short Taverns Poems
Short Taverns Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Taverns by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Taverns by length and keyword.
Parliamentarians debate
matters of state
In the taverns they wait
for ‘do-ers’ on the slate
Cassius Clay became Ali
Lew Alcindor, Abdul-Jabbar
What will become of Ilhan Omar
~ She’ll outlaw taverns and bars
Pewter goblets
Tin and copper
The last remnants
Of ancient taverns
And olden abodes
Of bygone memories
From bloodthirsty pirates
And poisonous wine
weathering Wales in bleak winter is hard
though starred sheep remain sleek
taverns roaring fires a feat
making Celtic maidens sweet
~~~~~~~
Evil scarecrow pumpkin head frightens on his ride.
Slightly insane, he causes even the pumpkins to hide.
I hope to never meet him, having heard his sordid tale.
Which is told over and over in taverns over drinks of ale.
sitting with a rum i take a pen...
and rye-me words
hearing anchor duty sailors...
'all call - haul'
church be an 'all call hall' for...
drivers not hearing answers
to their taverns last calls...
for more alcohol...
stan sand
turbulent souls
intoxicated by
colours and lines
philosophical downtrodden
jutting clumsy unfinished
works shocking the system
delivered in spasms
they hide in brothels and
beg in taverns for an ounce
of malt and love
to sober
they are destroyed for
their originality and
worshipped later by
the same vultures and
revered as great artists
Form:
Mind over matter,
Explore life's taverns;
Trust can engender,
A lonely cavern;
Play with full measure,
Hoist funny feelings;
Open life's treasures,
Reach borders fleeting;
Sense somnolent daze.
Sounds that now betray,
Urgent sure amaze
Ripe readings defray;
Give in to stillness:
Exit loneliness.
Leon Enriquez
19 August 2014
Singapore
gather wares for market day
and cauldrons of the land
baneful stock for the boiling pot
before the evening’s end
tankards spill and taverns heave
upon these Beltane days
see magic folk and sorcerers
on an otherwise malaise
then pack the carts and disappear
before the robin sees
and woe betide the straddlers
caught there on Gallows’ Eve
Fall time and it’s freezing
Poles are cold
Walls are green
See the others sneezing
Time just seems to slip away
As the ruby trees wither
Rosemary streets slither
While the talons touch the season
Turning tides rise and fall
Timbers telling treasons
Cults eviscerate taverns
Tumbling rocks they stall
Emigrating egrids eagerly expostulate
Against snails in grass
Whilst gold changes brass
Monasteries monitor maneured man
It's the top of the first inning
Fans 'still filing into the park'
Tho' the game's now beginning
It's quiet, you can hear in the dark
For the fans are made out of cardboard
They're propped up in the front rows
No cheers, no boos; they can't keep score
No "Beer here" either; they've got no dough
On nearby streets, no one's in the taverns
The empty stadium's a giant cavern
The ballpark's a cemetery, morbid, funereal
Made for 2020, strange and surreal