Sobered Poems | Examples

Holiday Fun

Santa and the Mrs. went out dancing
They went to the Red Chapel wild prancing.
Swing to the music and humped;
Pulled away, sway round, and jumped.
Pushed, wobble away, looked back proud, glancing.

Santa and the Mrs. partied hearty
Until night lit, busting their humps, smarty.
Woke with aching hangover.
Rudolph, out in the clover,
showing off bright nose, wittingly, arty.

Hey, Santa, running late and feel sixer.
Mrs. Santa did mix an elixir.
He drank till room stop spinning.
Smart aleck Rudolph, grinning.
Weak with sore belly, sobered up quicker.

Wounded By Alcohol

Whom of you have never felt the pinch and pain 
when inebriated thoughts begin to fall like rain 
whom of you have ever poured it down the drain 
when a loved one says, " this is insane" 

Whom of you have peeled the mask of hidden truth 
pushed beyond the shove and talked about your youth ?
Whom of you, worn down by life whipped the scourge   
sobered up and restrained the urge...

Whom of you at a ripe old age still cry for your mother 
when times get tough, do you have a sister or a brother 
Whom of you  faced and stoned don't give a damn 
when a child cries out like an angry ram ...

Whom of you have ever been perfect before you were broken 
when the hourglass of time says enough/here take this token
Whom of you grasped it with two shaking hands and said yes 
I'm gonna rise up and be counted for I have made such a mess. 

Whom of you like me still cry for the love that refuses to die,   
when the stars of heaven split open their light, do you cry ?

Dust- drunk friends

Sometimes I think my friends don't care
They say you speak the truth drunk
And they never ever sober up
And they say I'm annoying as 
They do stupid  and flirt around 
And I shake my head and eat my crisps 
Yell at them to get to bed
Tell them they should sober up
They've never really sobered up
Instead they just trigger each other
And get on my nerves 
DIY piercings and dresses with curves
Flirt with a boy I call him sir
But he likes this girl he knows from school 
Yet he flirts with me anyway
Call it screen testing chemistry 
And I was meant to sleep while it was sun
And now it's shade and i can't say
What l need to say to say what I need
So I'll say I'm fine and I'll say goodnight 
Lie awake and listen to indie pop
With I could take off this top
Lie on the floor and just rot
Turn myself into ing dust 
When I kill myself they'll make me dust 
They'll make me dust
I don't wanna be dust

The Fridge

I didn't mind you balling Jack in our sack

Behind my back

But to take the fridge which held the beer

That was low, even for you dear

Now I hear you've dumped Jack, in favour of Mark

Everybody knows, he’s a nark

And what about the beer

Is it true, Mark the nark was shot in the dark

Now you're with Joe

The price of beer, it’s shocking you know

Heard the news, heart attack, poor Joe, and at the point of blow

Way to go Joe, the beer will flow

Is it true, Joe’s hardly dead, and you’re away with Fred

My god, I'm drinking myself dead

Oh no, surely not Fred, he was in his prime

Time gentlemen please, time

Well that sobered me up

You’re living with Mary, quite contrary

That's it, you've crossed the line

I'm the laughingstock in the Rose and Crown

You have finally pushed me over the ridge

For Christ sakes woman

Keep the bloody fridge.

Grim Reaper Waits

He lurked in the corner of the shadows below
Waiting patiently for his victim, a guy who moved quite slow
Jim had a feeling, so he dragged his feet a bit
When the Grim Reaper grabbed him, he threw a tiny fit

You know it’s your time, the Grim Reaper said to him.
His voice was serious, which sobered the guy named Jim.
He pleaded, could have another week or two?
The Grim Reaper said “no, I have come to claim you.”

Silk-Fire and Arctic-Air

I'm silk-fire, curled in emblazoned quartz horizons,
Of aurous equator, rising in smoke as a secular bird, 
From own fossil-ashes, flying to distant honey-shores, scarlet spun, 
Stretching across merlot crusts of earth, like a coal-storm, sobered 

Yet, my heart is not a silent sandstone, flaming with rage, 
It whispers to my Mon Cherie, my arctic air, 
In dialects of redolent romance, midst ethers of space, 
And he, who fuels my glory by igniting spirit, emerges in graphite flares

Our skies are not sketched with rose-gold glitters, 
Rushing in a black-horse's symphony, 
crashing porcelain herbs, 
We paint universe in ruins of lead and metallic cinders,
Me and arctic air, breathe as one in thunderous heartbeats of reverb;

Orbiting in jade bonfires of ornamented redwood, 
While cradling wrath in crimson vineyards, 
Has any nurtured offspring of starburst hope withstood, 
If our eclipsed union is a toxic twinkle upon sacred lotus' haven-yarns?

New Year - New Me

Last year she belonged to you
Giving her all
For you to breakthrough. 
Chimes at twelve
Fireworks exploding
Yet no Good-will came from your boding. 
She picked up her heart that
Dragged on the floor
Dusted it off
Deciding she was worth more.
Resoluting to be the very best
That only she can,
She stopped her influence
Sobered again.
Then she was free from things
That bound her
Became a fresh experience
Happy, joyous and free!

Back Then It Was All About Who Got Drunk Last

One of my early girlfriends started to be fun
after she stopped drinking and I started.

Later I sobered up, 
but it was never the same;
eventually we lift on different trains 
with different kinds of hangovers.

We were two ships in different bottles,
just learning to sail alone
and not sink.

Something Like It

Once upon a time, not that long ago 
I felt some kind of balance, I felt the energy flow... 
it was like a drug, I wanted more and more,
And just like a drug, I'd look anywhere to score. 

Try and do whatever it took to feel that way again 
But everywhere I turned, I'd be put in a spin...

When I sobered up and took the nine to five, 
Always longing for that which made me feel so alive. 
The "normal life" was not for me, i knew this deep down. 
I wasn't meant to be stuck in this god-forsaken town. 

Try and do anything to feel something again, 
always finding small doses, feeling the spin.

Inside my head, constantly at war, 
The voices within, harder and harder to ignore.
 Always feeling like it is time to go, 
But to where I did not know. 

Fearing I may never feel that way again, 
remembering the last time, I felt the spin. 

A long time has gone by since I felt that way, 
Even though in my mind, it was just yesterday. 
Because of this, I tend to lose track, 
Getting lost, distracted, the mind gets hijacked. 

Going down and down, a constant tailspin,
But I've got to pull up, I can't let them win...

Suicide of Books

For long bookcase-bound,
Some books committed suicide.
‘Few readers were found’,
The suicide note had decried,
Sobered, the rest of books cried.

The shock of the news
Caused many in library
Feel a stiffened noose,
Some of them on poetry
Thought of mass hara-kiri!
_____________________________
Tongue-in-cheek |24.12.2020|
Topic: books, poetry

Poet’s note: More and more books are being printed, less and less, read; too many digital bytes chasing too few readers.

A Lesson Learned

A lesson learnt
    
The ship I saw in the bay and thought a princess of the seas
came back this afternoon when the sky was murky, she was sad
the cook was fired, and the crew was sorrowful.
Nothing wrong with the new cook, but as good as the old one
The cook had read too much Hemingway and wanted to be like him.
He took to calling the ship “el Pilar” and drinking whisky in the morning.
Forgetting to put yeast in the dough when baking bread.
It was all too much the cook had to go or stop reading Hemingway.
He did neither.
When he sobered up trying to find a new job, he regretted
his fondness of the famous writer.
His predicament is a solitary lesson for every reader, do not believe
what the author writes he is just telling a story.

When Young

When young,
 
Intoxicated my soul seemed to be
  
As she was drinking constantly from youth's 

Fine wine

But 

Now that I old came to be

My sobered soul is wiser, thus yearning, only

To delight herself, with what is: just, holy, and 

Divine!









© Demetrios Trifiatis
       02 June 2021

Hangover the Morning After the Night Before

Santa went out last night dressed as mutton.
Partied too much; was a real butt   on.
Woke with aching hangover.
Mrs. Santa, boil-over,
Threaten to punch in his bellybutton.

You need to deliver the children's toys.
Or you'll ruin the joy for girls and boys.
Sleigh and reindeer are roundup,
Leave Before children wake-up.
Santa mumbled, stop making so much noise.

Feeling awful, asked, give me till sixer.
Mrs. Santa did mix an elixir.
Santa drank till he tossed up
His cookies and liquor sup.
Weak with sore belly, sobered up quicker.


12/7/2020

Bar Mate

At the "Head Inn' Bar,
I sat with Death.
Drinking the fog,
With my poor-man's "Crown"
Earlyer, In mood,
I called him over, telling
"It can wait, grab a drink".
Quite in my superior,
For just saving thousands.
You see, Him and I have met.

First a teenage drive,
Acid with ambulance,
Flip-rolling, tripping a bad action.
But I saw him.
Then at mid-life, Buhhda-r-us.
Told to sit with him,
He didn't say much.

Death and I ordered again.
I gave him grief,
for ordering a Cran-metropoliton,
He shrugged me off, sipping,
Smiled his cared-for white mug.
Genuine tho, no hidden intent.
I could buzzed gather.

We Chatted the gambit, 
Topics unbound,
He listened as if I had something to say.
It felt like a talk, with a laid back relative.
Glad to see, but good for the go.

Time whispered my leave.
Plus my spirts were many.
I slurred a passing joke-jab.
"were is your cycle, black robe,
Bone pointing finger "
He pierced me with a gaze,
like my dead father would,
Gentaly patting my back,
And by his smiling touch,
I sware, I sobered up.

Good Value

Jimmy went to Spain back in 84
With some of his school pupils
It was a week and cost 149
A couple of teachers went along
To keep any eye on the kids
Who were only 12 and underage!

Not allowed into the local discos
The age limit was 14 and above
So we went to the bars and drank
Jimmy never had lager till then
And was pissed on 3 halves!

Black coffee sobered him up
One of the other pupils drank
A bottle of Cinzano and shoved 
The bottle up his own **** hole!
Jimmy had a fight with one lad
It was a rival in the year below

They never were mates
The year above were knobs too
And Jimmy hated them as well
He palled up with 2 of his mates
They drank ate and had a laugh
There was a local castle 

But it was out of season and closed
One of the other lads climbed up
And took some pix for Jimmy
They also went to the beach
It was nudist and guess what!
Jimmy got a hard on and it showed

It left a mark in the sand
He ran off but left his towel
Twice the embarrassment!
That mad holiday in 1984
He learnt to drink and fight
Money well spent

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