In this boozy woozy world we spin,
Where cares are shed and laughter's win.
Let's do the boozy woozy dance,
A carefree sway, a happy trance.
The rhythm calls, the music plays,
Forget the woes of yesterday.
Let bodies bump and spirits soar,
In this boozy woozy world we adore.
Tipsiness takes hold, a gentle sway,
With every beat, we're lost in play.
Woozy minds, a joyful blur,
At this moment, we're pure.
So walk like drunk, with silly grace,
A smile upon each happy face.
With you, my friend, in this delight,
We'll boozy woozy through the night.
Release the tension, let it go,
In this bubbly, boozy flow.
The boozy woozy life's the best,
A moment shared, a joyful test.
So join the dance, let worries fade,
In this boozy woozy charade.
Embrace the fun, the silly grin,
And do the boozy woozy within.
The month of May
Exists so we can love
The beautiful flowers of nature
So we can dream of a richer future.
May is the month of love
Where the days and nights
Are the most beautiful
And the locusts are happy
In the green fields
Amid songs and chants.
This is the month of happiness
The season of all flowers
The awakening of youth
And the birth of tipsiness
On a jubilant spring.
It's all over again in Spring
The birds are singing
The children are dancing
And the bees are roaming
From live flowers
To sick cherry laurels
On a jubilant spring.
The stars twinkle
The waters of the river sparkle
And the moon lights up
The corners of the city.
The month of May
Exists so we can love.
Copyright © Mai 1st.2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
(Series: Half of the dream broke with her)
Let my lines possess you to tipsiness,
Scatter your night - make you slum,
& when the night comes
Look at the sky & smile
I long to find my other half - just like the moon.
Let me rest my life on your chest
Break the silence with my feelings.
I’m a pulse - but you’re a throbbing pulse
That revive the corner of my prisoned soul.
The moonlit trees
Sway drunkenly against
The kaleidoscopic backdrop.
Their lunar shadows
Stagger merrily
Over the forest floor,
Gaze longingly
At mice and hares and move on.
Soon their tipsiness and incapability
To stay upright will come to
A gruelling hungover end
As the golden chariot of
Apollo returns for another day
To light the way home
For lost leafy souls and
Drunken arboreal oaks.
And Diana’s wit and beauty
Will once again be outshone by
The mothering nutritious glow of the sun.
SUFFERINGS
stabbed at the dumpling…
cut the head off the chicken
...kitchen staff impaled*
Harker’s tipsiness...
ruddy wine blushes on neck
...teeth marks like fork tines
imagined in dark
mind of Dracula...scheming
closed lips...tongue beating
5/2/2018
*to fix in an inescapable or helpless position
I am an aged dusky man,
like a bottle of Bordeaux wine,
The older am I,
The Stronger my tipsiness,
I am packed in old Jeroboam bottle;
May be in old filthy bottle,
Yet soul is fresh vigorous,
inebriating wine;
My soul is prisoner under cork,
Once is released,
gravity is at height;
Squirt my wetty aroma,
exhilarates all for fun;
My body may break or perish,
Even may leave me helpless,
Yet am Bordeaux wine, loved by all,
They all know, more the older am I,
More the tipsiness I have;
I am an aged dusky man,
like a bottle of Bordeaux wine;
© Sadashivan Nair.
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