First talk of booze and look who pops up!
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A Drinking Song
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
W.B.Yeats
That's lovely Hes! I like it a lot...perhaps at the first meet we should all bring at least 3 drinking poems to be discussed whilst partaking?...after a run (ofcourse)...
here's one from Robert Burns
Scotch Drink
Gie him strong drink until he wink,
That's sinking in despair;
An' liquor guid to fire his bluid,
That's prest wi' grief and care;
There let him bouse, an' deep carouse,
Wi' bumpers flowing o'er,
Till he forgets his loves or debts,
An' minds his griefs no more.
I think the tone for this evening is set. Now where is that large glass......
Back at the house a bottle is found
and opened in honour of those who have drowned
While we who have not are stricken with guilt
and dutifully see that not one drop is spilt
We're drinking to life, we're drinking to death
We're drinking 'till none of our livers are left
We're winding our way down to the spirit store
We'll drink 'till we just can't drink any more
Raise your glasses high!
Drink the cellar dry!
Well bloody my nose and blacken my eye
If it ain't some young turk in search of a fight
And Shaunticles' chest is sagging with pride
for honour has yet to be satisfied
Well heaven be thanked we live in an age
where no man need bother except on the stage
With Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori
and definitely not tonight...
I can still remember
when I was just a kid
I was free to do what I wanted to
but never ever did
And now with years of discretion reached may we not forget
Liberte Egalite Fraternite
For there's life in the old world yet
There'll always be an England
an Ireland and our France
A Lichtenstein and Finland
For we have only one chance
Then this young man with an unhealthy tan
puts a drink in my hand and says I understand
You're in search of a place to continue the chase
of the heavenly taste I suggest in that case
That you all come with me to my place by the sea
where the glasses shall be overflowing with free
alcoholic delights (and free love if you like)
For what point has this life if you can't realise your dreams?
Raise your glasses high!
And drink the town dry!
We'll drink beyond the boundaries of sense
We'll drink 'till we start to see lovely pink elephants
Inside our heads, inside our beds, inside the threads of our pyjama legs
So don't shoot 'till you see the reds of our eyes
And an army of elephants marching behind
From the day I was born 'till the night I will die
All my lovers will be pink and elephantine!
(Neil Hannon / Divine Comedy again!)
HHH i love this poem especially the last line!!!! brilliant!...all my drinking tonight will have to be virtual as I have none in (oh the irony!!!!)...but who cares when we have words! ....nice one
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFGFJMfBtlM
I'd forgotten how it started! Listen carefully.
Great idea about the meet Freckle and HHH, good choice, he is such a poet.
it has just finished.
Now this man could drink (but not in a good way...)
Do you drink?
washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook
out again
I write from the bed
as I did last
year.
will see the doctor,
Monday.
"yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head-
aches and my back
hurts."
"are you drinking?" he will ask.
"are you getting your
exercise, your
vitamins?"
I think that I am just ill
with life, the same stale yet
fluctuating
factors.
even at the track
I watch the horses run by
and it seems
meaningless.
I leave early after buying tickets on the
remaining races.
"taking off?" asks the motel
clerk.
"yes, it's boring,"
I tell him.
"If you think it's boring
out there," he tells me, "you oughta be
back here."
so here I am
propped up against my pillows
again
just an old guy
just an old writer
with a yellow
notebook.
something is
walking across the
floor
toward
me.
oh, it's just
my cat
this
time.
Charles Bukowski
Happy xmas all!
What shall we do with a drunken santa?
What shall we do with a drunken santa?
What shall we do with a drunken santa?
Ear-ly in the morning
Knock him down and steal his presents
Knock him down and steal his presents
Knock him down and steal his presents
Ear-ly in the morning
Way, hey, and up she rises
Way, hey, and up she rises
Way, hey, and up she rises
Ear-ly in the morning
What shall we do with a drunken reindeer? [x3]
Ostracize him like poor Rudolph [x3]
What shall we do with a drunken Jesus?…
Turn the wine back into water…
What shall we do with a drunken snow man?
Put him in the sun and let it melt him
Ode To Wine
Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
wine,
starry child
of earth,
wine, smooth
as a golden sword,
soft
as lascivious velvet,
wine, spiral-seashelled
and full of wonder,
amorous,
marine;
never has one goblet contained you,
one song, one man,
you are choral, gregarious,
at the least, you must be shared.
At times
you feed on mortal
memories;
your wave carries us
from tomb to tomb,
stonecutter of icy sepulchers,
and we weep
transitory tears;
your
glorious
spring dress
is different,
blood rises through the shoots,
wind incites the day,
nothing is left
of your immutable soul.
Wine
stirs the spring, happiness
bursts through the earth like a plant,
walls crumble,
and rocky cliffs,
chasms close,
as song is born.
A jug of wine, and thou beside me
in the wilderness,
sang the ancient poet.
Let the wine pitcher
add to the kiss of love its own.
My darling, suddenly
the line of your hip
becomes the brimming curve
of the wine goblet,
your breast is the grape cluster,
your nipples are the grapes,
the gleam of spirits lights your hair,
and your navel is a chaste seal
stamped on the vessel of your belly,
your love an inexhaustible
cascade of wine,
light that illuminates my senses,
the earthly splendor of life.
But you are more than love,
the fiery kiss,
the heat of fire,
more than the wine of life;
you are
the community of man,
translucency,
chorus of discipline,
abundance of flowers.
I like on the table,
when we're speaking,
the light of a bottle
of intelligent wine.
Drink it,
and remember in every
drop of gold,
in every topaz glass,
in every purple ladle,
that autumn labored
to fill the vessel with wine;
and in the ritual of his office,
let the simple man remember
to think of the soil and of his duty,
to propagate the canticle of the wine.
Pablo Neruda
Featherlite :eek::D:eek::eek:
Waste not, want not you say as you
wring the last drops, the way
you'd get the dregs of the Burgundy
out of a wine box. You swallow the lot
like an epicure, a woman who hasn't drunk
for weeks. I see the tongue curl
in your mouth, your lips sticky and opalescent
as it runs down your throat.
An elixir, that's what you call it,
your multi-mineral and vitamin supplement:
amino acids, glucose, fructose, vitamin B12
(essential for vegetarians), vitamin C,
magnesium, calcium, potassium,
and one third of the recommended
daily dose of zinc. You wipe your chin
with a finger, and put the tip to your tongue.
The taste is acquired; like whisky,
and anchovies, you develop a passion.
It's an aphrodisiac more efficacious
than rhino horn, or Spanish Fly,
it's delicious, you say, as you grab my hair,
and push your salty tongue in my mouth.
This poem has to be kept under wraps!
How utterly gorgeous is this? Oh my golly gosh it is wonderful..one to keep and bring out for those "special" occassions...anyway i could bloody murder a glass of wine after all of this...pah! ...i hope you two aren't drinking, that's just not fair!
I liked all of this poem but particularly these bits
Wine
stirs the spring, happiness
bursts through the earth like a plant,
walls crumble,
and rocky cliffs,
chasms close,
as song is born.
Let the wine pitcher
add to the kiss of love its own.
oh and the really saucy verse...:eek:
this is the tamest bit of that one....
...your navel is a chaste seal
stamped on the vessel of your belly,
your love an inexhaustible
cascade of wine,
light that illuminates my senses,
the earthly splendor of life.
beautiful just beautiful!
It’s all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog
It’s all gone for beer and tobacco
Well I spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin
And across the western ocean I must wander
Where are me boots, me noggy noggy boots?
They’ve all gone for beer and tobacco
The leather’s all worn out and the soles are all worn out
And my toes are looking out for better weather
Where is me shirt, me noggy noggy shirt? / It’s…
The collar’s all worn out and the front is kicked about
And my tails are looking out for better weather
Where is me bed, me noggy noggy bed? / It’s…
I loant it to a whore and now it’s all a-wore
And the springs are looking out for better weather
Where is me wench, me noggy noggy wench? / She’s…
Her lips is all worn out and her front is kicked about
And her tail is looking out for better weather
Where is me man, me noggy noggy man? / He’s…
Well he spends all his time with the women and the wine
So I think that I shall push him over yonder
Where is me whore, me noggy noggy whore? / She’s…
Well it’s her I want to lay, but she says I cannot pay
So my whore is looking out for richer sailors
[this time only]
It’s all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog
It’s all gone for beer and tobacco
Well I spent all me loot in a house of ill repute
And I think that I shall go back there tomorrow
I feel sick in the head and I haven’t been to bed
Since first I came ashore with me plunder
I’ve seen centipedes and snakes, and I’m full of pains and aches
And I think that I shall push out over yonder
very clever x runner i don't know how you do these things... i really like neil rollinson...if you think this one is to be kept under wraps try "fruit"....don't think you can get it on google so you will all have to buy spanish fly won't ya!!!!
http://www.neilrollinson.com/hyper.htm
on the subject of fruit.....
seek and ye shall find...(mischevious icon x 100)
ahem....
It's been a real larf as they say down sowff. Thanks everyone. I'm off to do a bit more of my drawing but I'll be back. x