Alone Again
His wife leaves him
And he has no friends
As he drinks beer
All alone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Diabetic
she's actually 40
but she looks like 50
at the party
she is taking a case of
beer
drinks like a drum
and eats like there is no more food
for tomorrow
on a frothy mouth
she says she is hopeless
and would not hesitate
if she dies tomorrow
or even today
her husband is younger
by six years
and she swears he loves her even
if she is broke
she drinks more beer
and had more steak
more rice
more spaghetti
at 4 p.m. the waves of the sea
in this island
start to grow bigger
the wind starts to blow
and she rushes the boatman
to take her back
to the city
after all i guess
she is still afraid of the coming
typhoon
is she afraid of drowning?
i guess not
she says she is not afraid to die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chug-a-lug
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Gary likes a girls tight black pants
Larry knows he doesnt stand a chance
Carl says hurry up and order it quick
Dave gets out to chase that chick
Dennis wonders whats under the hood
A big chrome tach and it sounds real good
I go down to the root beer stand
And drink up all that I can
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Cold beer, root beer
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Brians still glued to the radio
Louies lookin out the rear window
Guys got around to orderin fries
But root beers my best buy
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Cold beer, root beer
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Cold beer, root beer
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Root beer, need another mug now
Root beer, chug-a-lug-a-lug now
Root beer, need another mug now
Root beer, chug-a-lug-a-lug now
Root beer, need another mug now
Root beer, chug-a-lug-a-lug now
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drunken Dancing Fish
An old man fishing
Sat all day in his boat
Drinking beer
Watching the bobber float
Perhaps it was the alcohol
Or the rocking to and fro
But he swore he saw
A fish come up and dance a do si do!
So quickly
It was gone
But the staggering effect of it
Like a hangover, lingered on long
He sold the boat
And gave up beer
Now he drinks ginger ale
And only hunts deer
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Shall Always Be Friends
Do not worry.
You will lose me.
As your lover.
But we will always
be friends.
This is what you wanted.
But remember
friends drift away
often lose touch
one parting day.
For life is too busy.
New jobs and new friends.
Take us away.
Demand our loyalty.
Commitments of time.
Eventually we often find
a new lover we need,
to fill empty spaces in life;
to become our husband
or wife; to share our life.
To build a new future with
to commit all our time with.
But we can still be friends
with old lovers?
Spare them fragments
of our time,
every few weeks
or month or yearly,
or in our thoughts
and memories,
as time rolls on by.
The odd cup of coffee, tea,
or drinks, or social functions.
Conversations on telephones
a letter or card or two.
Especially at Christmas.
Time passes and we
remain good friends.
Even though eventually
we do not see each other.
Ever again as time
takes our meetings away.
But we can still
remain friends.
As old lovers sometimes do.
But it is never the same.
It is progressive loss not gain.
But we shall always
be old friends.
Even when we shall
never meet again.
We can be
just friends.
But friends drift
apart in the end.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Too Old To Work And Too Young To Die
That time catches up on us all is surely not a lie
He is too old to work and he is too young to die
On retirement pension and quite bored with life
He spends much of his time arguing with his wife
On their fortieth year of marriage and love between them long dead
With a son and daughter and seven grandchildren and old age ahead
Since the warm feelings of love in their life has gone cold
They have nothing to look forward to but growing old
He and his wife in their mid to late sixties and their best years long gone
And only the will to live keeps them living on
Years ago they used to walk hand in hand to the park off of the street
But nowadays out walking them one never does meet
On his own in the pub he sits and drinks his beer
Looking rather unhappy and lacking in cheer.
poem by Francis Duggan
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He who drinks no more still likes to see the beer pulled.
Old Friends
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
Saw you walk into the club last night
Could not even believe what I was seein
How do I even stop thinkin of you?
cause in my eyes youre still mine
Nobody told me I would feel like this
Wanting you more as the years walk on by
Now Im not afraid to say what i, I believe
But I wish you were my wife
My old friend
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(my old friend)
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
First time we met so cool, cool I never knew
You would become so closely to my heart
And now when I look back, girl I was so blessed
The rest never passed the test
Im choosy when it comes to newfound friends
And I wish they could be so smooth
(just like you)
And you never sweated me girl that was so tight
You were an angel in my life, oh, if
(I knew then)
What I know now
(what I know now)
Oh, yeah
(you wouldnt be with him)
You would be here
(youd be here with me)
My old friend
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(my old friend)
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(spoken-ralph):
Wow
Wish I only knew
What I know now
Im sorry baby
(my old friend)
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(old friends)
Old friends
Are the best friends
(are the best friends)
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(what I wanna do, what I wanna say)
Old friends
Are the best friends
(I cant believe I have to leave without ya, baby, baby, baby)
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(yeah)
Old friends
(sometimes, sometimes I get so lonely, so lonely, so lonely girl)
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(old friends)
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(my old friend)
Old friends
Are the best friends
(are the best friends)
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(my old friend)
song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Were The Times
those were the busy bustling days
of the cities
where people have no places
to go home
and laundry themselves in parties
of friends
and friends of their friends
till the wee hours
got fed up of those days
of smoke and beer
and now i am back to the silence of
this little town of
my birth
the trees are shedding off their leaves
the cows are giving birth
the birds black and white fly on the skies
and perch on a tree
enjoying the ripe fruits
today i am going fishing in the river
my sail boat is waiting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The can can empty.
One to lose one’s wife
Is a can losing its beer.
One to dropp one’s husband
Is the beer losing its can.
Man can’t withstand the latter.
14.12.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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In The Only Pub In Penshurst
In the only pub in Penshurst saturday is the big night
Some of the locals there for a meal and drinks of their worries make light
And some even have their children there in a child friendly place
And everyone seems happy a smile on every face.
In the only pub in Penshurst I was made feel welcome there
It did not seem to bother them that I was from elsewhere
To me they were so welcoming as if I were a long lost friend
And I felt like a Local there before the night did end.
In the only pub in Penshurst they sell the best of beer
And talk of cricket and football one is obliged to hear
The Aussies playing cricket in England and football finals time drawing near
And Spring around the corner it is that time of year.
In the only pub in Penhurst though there I was not known
The locals made me feel welcome as if I were one of their own
I had gained at least twenty new friends by last drinks at closing time
And to these lovely people I dedicate this rhyme.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Hollywood
Orange and yellow and purple and green
The lights of the city at night set the scene
Stumble through the bars of forget-me-not lane
Sparkle through the glitter but dont show the pain
In hollywood
Underneath a golden palm tree
Hollywood
Come to the party the drinks are on me
For free
Heartbeats echo through a cavern of love
Come to the tavern Ill meet you up above
Soaring through the heavens, what a fabulous ride
But everybodys heading for the same place to hide
In hollywood
Underneath a golden palm tree
Hollywood
Come to the party the drinks are on me
For free
The drinks on me
For free
The drinks on me
For free
The drinks on me
The drinks on me
The drinks on me
The drinks on me
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wife In Exile
Upon point of returning
with
foreign wife
to native land.
Will your wife
have any friends
there?
My friends
will be her friends.
If they be not.
Then they be neither
my friends
nor hers.
Problems?
This is a fundamental
truth in life.
A fundamental requisite
strewn in friendship.
For one flesh
one heart
one life
a commitment
that cannot
divided be.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Saturday Night At The Local
Saturday night in The Ramble Inn Bar
Johnny the folk singer strums on his guitar
For his entertainment in beer he is paid
Not a hard one to please is Danny McDaid,
Saturday night the night for the sing along
Everyone gets a chance to sing a song
Anyone who sings will get a free beer
Saturday night is the night of good cheer,
Annie she sings and she receives an encore
Drinks her free beer and she sings a few more
Singing and dancing and reciting rhyme
Everyone's having a jolly good time,
Nobody is looking for trouble or fight
Down at the Local on Saturday night.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dave
Tired of his long uphill battle in life
And tired of being nagged by his cranky old wife
Dave feels like a bird rejected by his flock
And the chip on his shoulder has grown to a block.
Tired of the fellows he meet at the pub
Waffling on about their football club
The praises of their sporting heroes so many do sing
Sports or sports people for him doesn't do anything.
His wife Lyn and he in ideas far apart
All the love he had for her gone out of his heart
Together under the one roof they may be growing old
But now towards each other they seem very cold.
Their only child a son Sam in his mid twenties lives and works in Japan
One who is successful a clever young man
He feels happy in his life on a distant shore
And they have not seen him for three years or more.
On his own at the Local pub he sits and drinks his beer
Grown men talking of football he does not wish to hear
And when he goes home he must cook his own tea
Since he and his Mrs Lyn do not agree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Face Is Not My Face
my face is
not good
today...
i am fight with
my my friends
with asking
some money problems...
so
i my face was nasty...
this face
go for bar take
two large hot drinks...
for go to home
my wife is read to
fight me...
with a bed...
very boor
ok...
wear is my face...?
this is not my face...!
yes...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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A Day in the Life of Paddy Murphy, Broker
Riding home on the train, Paddy's aware
that after supper, cigarettes, TV and beer
a romp on the wife will cloak
the question for another day.
He'll fear nothing then
till noon the next day when
the question will rise all over again.
If his luck holds, he'll survive
the ride home on the train, aware
that after supper, cigarettes, TV and beer
a romp on the wife will cloak
the question for another day.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Not Tonight
Like a Siren calling me
Relentlessly to death,
My latent love of alcohol
haunts my every breath.
It started out quite innocent-
A scotch sipped here and there-
Progressing by degrees into
a sordid love affair.
A beer or three drunk at the game
And I was good company.
But, starting in the parking lot
I got disorderly.
Once a few drinks were consumed
Cold winter evenings lost their gloom-
Until my wife divorced me-
Now I live in rented rooms.
I managed, barely, while at work
I’ve got a union card.
I was often absent Mondays
which my boss thought very odd.
I had to find myself some help
To rise from my despair-
Wednesday nights in my church basement
There’s an A.A. meeting there.
I have a mentor guiding me
He’s been to Hell and back.
He always takes my phone calls
when Johnnie Walker wants me back..
And so I will not drink today
Ten weeks now I’ve been sober.
I spilled the drink into the sink-
I think… I hope it’s over.
While this is a work of fiction, it is a true story for many friends of Bill W.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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No Voucher For You
Inspired by Lydon.
God save my bank
And its greedy regime,
They got all my cash
In their dirty stash.
God save my job!
There is a hungry mob,
They want to rob me,
Wanna outjob me.
You can tell 'em, mate, what you want
And you can tell 'em, mate, what you need –
There's no voucher – no voucher –
No voucher for you!
God save my tent –
I mean it, man!
The storm is coming,
Tent saves!
God save my wife,
My junk-food chef,
But I figure now,
For my problems she's deaf!
Again same history,
Another masquerade –
Life has left me behind
And all my friends are bribed!
With your future we can do anything,
You are searchin' where we've just been;
We're possessin' the future –
Your vouchers & your future!
God save my mind,
By all means now –
I've never dreamt
Of this!
God save my beer –
C'mon, beer, get near! –
There is no future
In near future!
No voucher for me,
No voucher for you.
Wrong future for you.
poem by Frederik Kenski
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Monday Morning Obituary
He died of an overdose
of television sports.
He left life as as he had lived it,
Sitting back in his recliner
a beer in his hand and
his wife in the kitchen
making up another batch
of buttered popcorn
The funeral will be videotaped
so any of his friends
that might be so inclined
can watch it in their homes
during commercials
or at the half-time break.