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Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Small Tales
by Michael R. Burch

When Artur and Cai and Bedwyr
were but scrawny lads
they had many a ***** adventure
in the still glades
of Gwynedd.
When the sun beat down like an oven
upon the kiln-hot hills
and the scorched shores of Carmarthen,
they went searching
and found Manawydan, the son of Llyr.
They fought a day and a night
with Cath Pulag (or a screeching kitten),
rousted Pen Palach, then drank a beer
and told quite a talltale or two,
"till thems wasn’t so shore which’un’s tails wus true."

And these have been passed down to me, and to you.

According to legend, Arthur and Kay grew up together in Ector’s court, Kay being a few years older than Arthur. Borrowing from Mary Stewart, I am assuming that Bedwyr (later Anglicized to Bedivere) might have befriended Arthur at an early age. By some accounts, Bedwyr was the original Lancelot. In any case, imagine the adventures these young heroes might have pursued (or dreamed up, to excuse tardiness or “lost” homework assignments). Manawydan and Llyr were ancient Welsh gods. Cath Pulag was a monstrous, clawing cat. (“Sorry teach! My theme paper on Homer was torn up by a cat bigger than a dragon! And meaner, too!”) Pen Palach is more or less a mystery, or perhaps just another old drinking buddy with a few good beery-bleary tales of his own. This poem assumes that many of the more outlandish Arthurian legends began more or less as “small tales,” little white lies which simply got larger and larger with each retelling. It also assumes that most of these tales came about just as the lads reached that age when boys fancy themselves men, and spend much of their free time drinking and puking! Keywords/Tags: King Arthur, boy, boyhood, *****, drinking, beer, ale, tall tales, Wales
there once was a beer named Corona
preferred by the youth with ‘persona’
they drank it with pride
but today they would hide
delight  has turned into a moaner
Where are the times when Corona was just the name of a quite drinkable Mexican beer..?
JAM Jan 2020
I trust books
and the people that beer with me.
Nigdaw Dec 2019
condensation runs in rivulets
to form a puddle
at the foot of the glass
a barmaid's finger imprints
still show in their disturbed path
bubbles rise to the surface
to join the communion of froth
through amber liquid

grain hops yeast water
a quartet brewed to perfection
one of the oldest beverages of man
an innocent in our drug and adrenaline
fuelled world

going for a beer with the lads
do you fancy a pint?
just a quick one
social, classless, acceptable vice
five thousand years in the making
Ike Nov 2019
Oh my god
I said too much again
I took off my emotional armor
Under the guise I provided myself
Drowning in apathy and beer

This is why this is SUPPOSEDLY a bad idea
Stop now
Everything is at stake (haha)
Or you made that **** up for yourself just now.
You won't know until tomorrow
Or ten times tomorrow
People remember how you
Make them feel
While we obliviously accept the love we feel we deserve
And those who take from this well, drown sadly.
Quietly.

I became my own undoing
In a matter of seconds
A picture, a word and a heartfelt explanation.
Sure as **** left unsaid
God I hope I haven't sent this.
Colm Oct 2019
Life is grain broken
Barley thrashed and pulled apart at the seams of bread and beer

Grapeless wine
On tender loving vines in a budding vineyard still

Intent on being our sustenance from the start
Such things are born at the hands of man but by the will of Gods kind heart
Beneath Heavens, From The Earth
Randy Johnson Sep 2019
A man's birthday only comes around once a year.
You wanted revenge because I drank your last beer.
You decided to get even by ruining my birthday.
You got even by giving me the new Doctor Who on Blu-ray.

You know that I hate the new Doctor Who, I think it's a piece of crap.
Now you've started crying like a two year old because I gave you a slap.
I loathe the new Doctor Who TV Show and I let everybody know about it.
You bought me a piece of crap for my birthday and it's making me throw a fit.

Even though I apologized for drinking your last beer, you decided to make me pay.
You had an evil grin on your face as you handed me the new Doctor Who on Blu-ray.
Everybody had to cover their ears because I said a lot of cuss words.
I burned your present because I would've rather been given a ****.
THE ONLY TRUE THING ABOUT THIS POEM IS THE FACT THAT I HATE THE NEW DOCTOR WHO TV SHOW.
Francie Lynch Sep 2019
Its commensal, at best,
This house fly of a guest;
Who frequents your home,
Alits on a chair,
Rubbing its hands together.
It shows no regrets,
Feeding, slurping and buzzing,
With a self-made bequest.
I can tolerate a bar fly;
A barn fly, a sty fly;
But,
I've the bottle fly,
That plunders my fridge,
Swarms over my beer
Like a blood-thirsty midge.
He's a house fly,
And ignorant,
So fly paper won't do.
I need a SWAT team to shoo
This house fly adieu.
Do you have a house fly?
Proctor Ehrling Sep 2019
You chugged down a pint of stout
Reason running in and out
Your friends cheering you on
Until all reason is completely gone
   In a moment of uncertainty
   You poise the possibility
   Of ordering another pint of that hilarity
You get another one and a shot
You feel your head spins and you're hot
You're being cheered on by your friend-squad
Reason's leaving, but you're not
   The evening just began
   And you feel a certain urge to dance
   Then that concludes
   You get the pint again
   And the reason still eludes
About the unreasonably high alcoholic consumption most folks go through at some point.
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