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Poetry prompt week 18: Drinking poems

one month ago

This times prompt is to come up with the best drinking song possible! Make it as joyful and happy or sad and tragic as you can; it’s all upon you.


Poetry prompt week 18: Drinking poems

one month ago

The world is going to hell, 

Hunger, poverty, and famine have ravaged the lands,

Our town is going to hell, 

Every man with two feet has long fled these lands, 


And those who haven’t, 

are doomed for hell,

as all they are now,

are cutthroats and brigands,


Even the holy men are worried for the future of men,

For even the Lord can’t forgive these sins of men...


But we don’t care and order some more,

And get more drunk like there’s no tomorrow,

We will celebrate till dawn is upon us,

So roll out the barrels, and come sit next to us!


Come forget all your woes, and sit next to us!

And pour the holy mead for all of us!

To cleanse our souls, and to heal our woes,

Because judgement day will soon be upon us!


So give me more beer, until I’m not here!

Out of this world and completely drunk!

‘Cause we never know, if Jesus is here ‘morrow,

and this’ll be the last time we’re drunk!


(Inspired by the Czech song ‘poverty and famine’)




Poetry prompt week 18: Drinking poems

one month ago

@Gower @Ozoni @Mayana @Orange @Austinc @ninjapitka @IsentinelPenguin @Fiscean-Chef@The_Broken_God  @TharaApples @C6H8O6 @Cupcakitty_13

Points list:

Gower: 26

Serpent: 9

Ozoni: 8

Mayana: 4

Orange: 11

Austinc: 17


Fiscean: 13

Broken god: 12



Ninja: 14

Me: 18

Cupcake: 8

C6H8: 4

Poetry prompt week 18: Drinking poems

one month ago

Marginally related and I'd promised to post it on site some time ago. Here it is, though not a song.

Pitiful creature

There is a mad bee

He resides inside my skull

Poor little bastard

I'd let him out if I could

Feel what he's doing

Practicing tap on my brain

Dancing lights waltzing stomach


My eyes must be disco balls

Moscow to California

He traveled by mule

Copper plated Carapace

And in down the hatch

He wears heavy boots

Can't find his way out again

It's an S.O.S.

Sent in by stinger

Now he is going to die

Pitiful Creature

Poetry prompt week 18: Drinking poems

one month ago

Freeform? Quite a nightmare. I'll leave the tune, tempo, and such to the reader's imagination - just imagine a chorus of drunken men singing this.

Pour us a drink,
O' barkeep, keep pouring.
Pour us a drink,
'till we can't drink no more.

Pour us a drink 'till our wounds are forgotten,
Pour us a drink 'till we can't see no more.

The battle continues,
And us men, we march,
And the hardship continues,
With only one resolve:

Men raise your cups,
As the drinks are a'pouring!

Men raise your cups,
And all woes will begone!

So Pour us a drink,
O' barkeep, keep pouring!
Pour us a drink,
And tonight shall last!

Hardship surrounds us,
But ye shouldn't fear,
For nothing is finer,
Than a cool mug of beer.

So pour us a drink,
O' barkeep, keep pouring,
Pour us a drink,
'till we can't drink no more.

The Bar on East Manhattan

21 days ago

I know I’m late but I couldn’t help but try my hand at it. I keep imagining this to the tune of Big Rock Candy Mountain. No idea why.



In the bar on East Manhattan

There’s live music every day

It starts at 12th of Never

And always gets delayed


The barmaid is a beauty

If you look past her rotten gums

She’s always right and snooty

And her nose looks like a thumb


The owner’s a good fella

If you like ratchety old men

He’ll wack you with his umbrella

Just for giving him a grin


At least the building’s not too bad

If you don’t mind the rats

And one thing that I should add

It smells like a pissing cat


The locals are all friendly

But they’ll never be caught there

So there’s one too many 

Tourist, and they all tend to glare


But the brandy can’t be beaten

And they’ll never cut you off

So you won’t catch me cheatin’

On that bar that is a scruff


So come with me

We’ll go and drink

Until we can’t see

And the place don’t stink

In the bar on East Manhattan


Poetry prompt week 18: Drinking poems

21 days ago

Midnight to Six

Through the murky haze of smoke and chatter,
The juke-box throbs its unheeded message.
Tables and chairs - coke and coffee - talk and laughter.
Strange faces and unknown voices probe the darkness;
All are strangers, but I am not alone.
In the midst of all my darkness, these are my saviours,
I feel; I live; I have regained my own;
I am not listening but I hear, I cannot see but I do.

Staring at the dregs of my coffee and my life
I am awakened by the dark silence enveloping me.
      Alone again -
I climb the steps to darkness, to the world of people,
People who look but do not see, who listen but do not
How can you, when you have not lived outside your

Poetry prompt week 18: Drinking poems

21 days ago