Poetry Competition Ends 8th July 2024 7:09am
Page:
Silly Drinking Poems
Poetry Contest Description
Write any silly drinking poem your heart desires.
Only one entry per author
No Prose Please
Rhyme or Don't Rhyme
Style is up to you
Here's an example. Exempt from competition.
Packs A Punch
Margaritas on a random weekday
Watching another tequila sunrise
White Russians every other Sunday
Memories on tap a numb surprise
Make me another flaming Dr. Pepper
Is this a bar or some random still?
Waitresses evade me like I’m a leper
Sitting across from a corporate shill
Hangovers are pretty common here
Just drinking my morning red eye
Before that I chugged the last beer
Too much gin makes my mouth dry
Sometimes cocktails are in demand
Other times not so fucking much
Also the house wine is kinda bland
Then again it does pack a punch
No Prose Please
Rhyme or Don't Rhyme
Style is up to you
Here's an example. Exempt from competition.
Packs A Punch
Margaritas on a random weekday
Watching another tequila sunrise
White Russians every other Sunday
Memories on tap a numb surprise
Make me another flaming Dr. Pepper
Is this a bar or some random still?
Waitresses evade me like I’m a leper
Sitting across from a corporate shill
Hangovers are pretty common here
Just drinking my morning red eye
Before that I chugged the last beer
Too much gin makes my mouth dry
Sometimes cocktails are in demand
Other times not so fucking much
Also the house wine is kinda bland
Then again it does pack a punch
Roll out the Barrel
I think Jill, by now, has got my measure
of how I spirit away time and cash,
scolded for taking a drink at leisure
then get a taste of her tongue, like a lash.
Though it's a rum do I nod and agree
although it does so go against the grain,
but there, bottles, for all the world to see
an' me the tipsy culprit once again.
My corker of a plea ' wet the tot's head?'
spirited her not a bit same as before,
but I keep mild no bitter whining gets said
just bottle up because Jill knows the score.
For I take no offence, bear no ill will
For to cap it all I still need my gill.
of how I spirit away time and cash,
scolded for taking a drink at leisure
then get a taste of her tongue, like a lash.
Though it's a rum do I nod and agree
although it does so go against the grain,
but there, bottles, for all the world to see
an' me the tipsy culprit once again.
My corker of a plea ' wet the tot's head?'
spirited her not a bit same as before,
but I keep mild no bitter whining gets said
just bottle up because Jill knows the score.
For I take no offence, bear no ill will
For to cap it all I still need my gill.
Written by Rew
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lethal libations
it was an Old Fashioned romance
...with a Spritz & a twist
a Royal Affair of epic proportions
poor Suffering Bastard in his Tuxedo
& the Platinum Blonde draped in scarlet satin
she...slipping into her Spicy Fifty years
flashing Dark & Stormy eyes
with a backdrop of Hurricane skies
him...looking for the Golden Dream
Damn the Weather & its threats
they tangoed...hello being the Last Word said
setting fire to the night like a Flaming Volcano
she...with her Angel Face & lethal Stinger
lured him like a Zombie with her Slippery Nipple
for Hanky Panky Between the Sheets
using her Woo Woo voodoo & a Kentucky Kiss
she took him willing into her lusty Death Flip
leaving him with the rest of her collectable Unforgettables
a withered husk of a Salty Dog
abandoned beneath an Amber Moon
until a Desert Healer on her filly
stumbled upon him at High Noon
breathing a prayer upon his brow of Corpse Revival
like a Sea Breeze upon his flesh
leading him away with a finger to his lips & a Lemon Drop kiss
they fled from the scene of recent events
clinging to their Horse's Neck
they rode hell bent through Blood & Sand
into a Mediterranean Sunset
for Duende's Cocktail Party comp...thank you for the challenge!
...with a Spritz & a twist
a Royal Affair of epic proportions
poor Suffering Bastard in his Tuxedo
& the Platinum Blonde draped in scarlet satin
she...slipping into her Spicy Fifty years
flashing Dark & Stormy eyes
with a backdrop of Hurricane skies
him...looking for the Golden Dream
Damn the Weather & its threats
they tangoed...hello being the Last Word said
setting fire to the night like a Flaming Volcano
she...with her Angel Face & lethal Stinger
lured him like a Zombie with her Slippery Nipple
for Hanky Panky Between the Sheets
using her Woo Woo voodoo & a Kentucky Kiss
she took him willing into her lusty Death Flip
leaving him with the rest of her collectable Unforgettables
a withered husk of a Salty Dog
abandoned beneath an Amber Moon
until a Desert Healer on her filly
stumbled upon him at High Noon
breathing a prayer upon his brow of Corpse Revival
like a Sea Breeze upon his flesh
leading him away with a finger to his lips & a Lemon Drop kiss
they fled from the scene of recent events
clinging to their Horse's Neck
they rode hell bent through Blood & Sand
into a Mediterranean Sunset
for Duende's Cocktail Party comp...thank you for the challenge!
Written by WillowsWhimsies
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Bottom Shelf
Don't even look up at me cherry vodka
you cheap little tart
who will let anyone drink you
sitting there on the bottom shelf
with your transparent clothing
and it’s glittering twinkle in the showroom light.
You chippie, little bawd
waiting patiently for your next john
to pay to have you or your sister or your mother-in-law two bottles down
it’s all in the family and none of you care
which will be next to intoxicate with your clear grain proof.
You cocky, little louche
you know all you have to do is sit there
and your john will come to you hungry like the wolf
while you wait inexpensively affordable
even after fees have been paid on bubble gum and toilet tissue
your thirty-five percent spirit is an easy sell.
I just wanted to let you know that you stink to high heaven
and your flashy flavor is more like a disgusting fruit medicine for almost-cancer
and the most recent fashion of the common cold
and that without you I could either die of boredom
or be feeding the hungry in my spare time.
I hope you can sleep at night
You self-possessed, promiscuous little hustler you.
you cheap little tart
who will let anyone drink you
sitting there on the bottom shelf
with your transparent clothing
and it’s glittering twinkle in the showroom light.
You chippie, little bawd
waiting patiently for your next john
to pay to have you or your sister or your mother-in-law two bottles down
it’s all in the family and none of you care
which will be next to intoxicate with your clear grain proof.
You cocky, little louche
you know all you have to do is sit there
and your john will come to you hungry like the wolf
while you wait inexpensively affordable
even after fees have been paid on bubble gum and toilet tissue
your thirty-five percent spirit is an easy sell.
I just wanted to let you know that you stink to high heaven
and your flashy flavor is more like a disgusting fruit medicine for almost-cancer
and the most recent fashion of the common cold
and that without you I could either die of boredom
or be feeding the hungry in my spare time.
I hope you can sleep at night
You self-possessed, promiscuous little hustler you.
Written by Ms_LaCarte
(Ms. La Carte)
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Shadows and Inebriant
he was in a tavern dimly lit
pie-faced drunk smelling of piss
holding a cigar though unlit
his tepid whiskey at half glass
he said he was a bard of yore
and sang songs off-key
about adventures, being the hero
he giggled often with glee
he often fell from his chair
yelling at the oncoming floor
that hurt his face as he fell
a spectacle for all to see
he spoke to his shadow
for no one cared about him
none reacted to his laughter
for his laughter was not for company
a past dwelled behind his eyes
being a wounded spirit, wild and free
he found solace in the cold glass
of any drinks ale or beer
after midnight he stumbled away
disappearing into the darkness
no toast to the lonely drunk
found dead at the park
pie-faced drunk smelling of piss
holding a cigar though unlit
his tepid whiskey at half glass
he said he was a bard of yore
and sang songs off-key
about adventures, being the hero
he giggled often with glee
he often fell from his chair
yelling at the oncoming floor
that hurt his face as he fell
a spectacle for all to see
he spoke to his shadow
for no one cared about him
none reacted to his laughter
for his laughter was not for company
a past dwelled behind his eyes
being a wounded spirit, wild and free
he found solace in the cold glass
of any drinks ale or beer
after midnight he stumbled away
disappearing into the darkness
no toast to the lonely drunk
found dead at the park
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
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Silly Alcohol Trickle
Silly, silly,
silly,
silly drinking,
wiener shrinking..
Wobbling
weak and
simping
Staggered,
limping,
haggard, drifting,
flagrantly sinking,
a maggot whimpering
Hair shaggy,
skin
pimpling
I'm sauced,
daggers trickling
out of tears trickling
onto crippled moths tricked
into signing up for flying me to Heaven,
now too soggy to walk
and alcohol dismisses em all,
those wet, poured upon moths,
blisters and bees,
weeds and the trees
Fuck em, sauced I trickle
silly,
silly drinking,
wiener shrinking..
Wobbling
weak and
simping
Staggered,
limping,
haggard, drifting,
flagrantly sinking,
a maggot whimpering
Hair shaggy,
skin
pimpling
I'm sauced,
daggers trickling
out of tears trickling
onto crippled moths tricked
into signing up for flying me to Heaven,
now too soggy to walk
and alcohol dismisses em all,
those wet, poured upon moths,
blisters and bees,
weeds and the trees
Fuck em, sauced I trickle
Written by ExercisingDemons
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