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.
If the food of love be poetry or not,
I only judge half our love
Yet, lest the happiness be forgot.
For every time you made me cry,
It was cancelled out by joy.
And after all, love continues to try.
To resurrect what we had before,
In a gilded autumn ignored; seeming lost
Yet love keeps tapping at the door.
If we could have one glimpse of the past,
Or wander in that magic wood again,
Would the memories let us pass
Into a locked garden and through the door
To open a trunk filled with gold,
And fill our hearts once more?
December 4, 2018
This was started as an answer to Lizzie Bennet's sour analysis of love in Pride and Prejudice...but it evolved, as these usually do.
Crawled inside a whisky bottle
For I am no aristotle
This is my hiding spot for awail
There is no need for 911 to be dialed
I'm only trying to drown my misery
Surly that is plain to see
Please don't shake me out
I need my whisky stout
Let me stay In here for now
I'll find my own way out.....some how
Alight me Paddies! Today the world is Green;
I am in a mood, alas, to gnaw crubeen,
To kiss my Irish lass, and cuddle her awhile,
To hear the Irish Rovers sing their bonny Isle,
To wear a shamrock, laboring o'er a stout:
Murphy or Guinness, to me it matters naught.
Married to an Irish girl whose family hails from County Antrim. The luck of the Irish be with ye, as it has with me! (0=/*
— The End —