Poems about drink


№ 1209707

Drink up

One shot, two shot three shot more.
High ball, low ball, I call more.

Drink till your fat
Let it all go to your head

Because in the end
U'l be dead.


Author: Andrew Willson
Date: 06/04/2020

№ 1207750

Don't drink the jungle juice

I close my eyes
And still feel your hands
In an empty room.

don,  drink,  juice,  jungle,  t.

Author: Emily K Fisk
Date: 05/04/2020

№ 1198236

A scene where i drink

Thudding walls calamity crash
Bozo bongo beatitude drinkatude
Splashing chi whisky against amaretto amethyst ice mountains
Wallowing winds whisper storm clouds
And tidal waves
In and out of bodies like a titanium knife
Glistening like the moon.
And i sit on top of a mountain
Waiting for the mercurial air & water elements
To swallow me like a dab of LSD.

"Let's go drown in each other's emotions! "
I shout, the words echoing
As the storm grows and the foaming water
Churns and splashes in the wee hours of the morning...

drink,  scene.

Author: Brycical
Date: 27/03/2020

№ 1197900

No, i dont want another drink, i just want to be clean

I sometimes take
Three showers
In a day
My skin may be
Outrageously dry
But it doesnt feel that way

Yes, it feels cracked
And broken
But it doesnt feel like a months walk through the winters breath
It feels like
Your grin ripping me open

So i wash it away
Again and again
In hopes ill remove your fingertips
From my back
The depths of my hair
And off of my lips

Maybe ill erase your words
So they arent on my eyelids
And my own tongue
Could i rub out your scent
Like you rubbed your hands
Over parts of me that were unsung

To stop your glance from shackling me down
Keep your hips from propelling into me
And take your mouths clasp off my ear
So i rinse off the the dirt etched into my bones
Along with the fingernail in my shoulder
And the reasons as to why out of all places,

You came *here.

clean,  drink.

Author: Benjamin
Date: 27/03/2020

№ 1196371

But you can't make it drink

Sometimes i think
That if, perhaps,
I could shrink myself down into something a bit more beautiful,
Then maybe you would love me.

In the ugly, unafraid, truth-telling part of my mind,
The part i seldom dare to visit,
I know this is not true,
Know that you could never love me,
Not now.

I can make myself,
As much as i like,
Into wood to be whittled,
But i cannot make you crave those carvings.

You can lead a horse to water,
Or whatever it is that they say.

But i fear i will always be a well run dry in your eyes
(or perhaps one that never had water to begin with).

So i combat this fear in the only way i know how:
By turning away from it,
Pretending it does not exist.

By shrinking.

And sometimes,
When you don't seem as far away,
I think that if, perhaps,
I could shrink myself down into something a bit more beautiful,
Then maybe you would love me.

(a. m. )

drink,  t.

Author: unwritten
Date: 25/03/2020

№ 1195321

A Drink

A drink isn't hard to swallow,
But a divorce, a lost child, death, they are.
The wind comes up, blows away dreams,
Ends marriages, sifts through plans,
Hopes, throws out what it wants.

A drink isn't hard to swallow,
But growing old, pain, dying dogs, they are.
The wind comes up, tears our garments,
Exposes our frailties, our nakedness,
Thoughtlessly shreds our defenses.
At times like these
A drink isn't hard to swallow.


Author: Warren Gossett
Date: 24/03/2020

№ 1194832

A Drink Called Life

You don't want to wake up
Because of the harshness
Of the thing known as “Life”

It makes you bedridden
Hidden away from the world
Like a hamster in a cage

You stay in the cage because you can't leave
There is a higher power over you
Trying to protect you

But you must rid that higher power
Dethrone the so-called God
Because you were going to take it back

And once you're free
It's like you're drunk
Drunk on living

And you realized that the period
The period of which you were lying in bed
Was just a horrible hangover
From a drink called “Life”

called,  drink,  life.

Author: Rebecca Sorenson
Date: 24/03/2020

№ 1191967

If Arizona's Iced Tea, I'll Drink Coffee

I was born
Here in a Capital place,
As in DC, or so I'm told
By the yellowed scrap of paper
Embossed with a seal,
Which Birthers might say is forged,
But it's not, and that's
A happy circumstance for me,
Because I hear folks like me
Are different, maybe even
And with that lone American
Difference comes a boat load of perks,
Including the right to say
I don't see any difference
When it comes to simple
But I do feel different
Than those who want to speak
In the name of the same
Old stupid conceit
That some belong
And some don't,
All the while they search
For differences
And seize on the might
To drive wedges
Between us,
And if they end up driving out
Our differences with this crocked-up
Lack of a due process
Cloaked in the flag, well that would be
The real crime.

arizona,  coffee,  drink,  iced,  tea.

Author: Francis Scudellari
Date: 21/03/2020