I’d like to ask you all to have a drink
But payment must forsooth be forthcoming;
A rhyming couplet, limerick or worse –
You’re free to choose the format of your verse.
We’d like a crowd-sourced sonnet if we can,
Especially one that sticks it to the man.
So use your words, as parents often say,
and order drinks, ‘cos lo! it is Friday!
March 14, 2014
Bar’s Open
…but nothing rhymes with pint.
There was a young man of Devizes
Had drinks of different sizes
One was so small
It was no drink at all
The other won several prizes.
Pint of Kamikaze, please.
Pockless…
There was a young man called Geraint
Who wanted to order a pint
It was a crime
for which there was no rhyme
so instead, a wafer-thin mint.
Full forty winters have besieged my door
And mewling PQ cowards call me foe.
The placid gaze that I once sweetly wore
Is buried deep beneath the ice and snow.
I’ll have a large spicy rum and coke please.
I raise a pint
To Tony Benn
Bristol’s finest
Guinea hen
…no… wait.
Ballpoint pen!
That’s not right. Comedienne?
Oh, this is too hard.
I really wish
Benn hadn’t died
For rhymes with Benn
My wit defied.
That’s rubbish.
A verse for Benn
(I’m trying again)
If only he
Had been PM
That’ll have to do. Mine’s a pint.
On the death of Tony Benn
It’s time to write a rhyme again
There was a young woman from Chester
Whose children did nothing but pester
When they were in bed
“Bring me gin”‘s what she said
With enough I become quite the jester
In honor of Pi Day, I shall write a Haiku that is 3-1-4.
Negroni
please,
velvety smooth.
A pi-ku. Genius.
Of course, there’s also ePIc poetry, that continues infinitely.
Hurrah! An excuse to air this poem by Baudelaire.
You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it — it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”
I’ll have a pint of poems, please. And a G&T.