"baileys" poems
With my fiddle I play...
and My Mug I shall drink...
with My feet i will dance...
and My mind shall not think...
I will sing of good times of now and of then...
and celebrate life with the bestest of men...
O'Charlie O'Malley and Jamison brew...
Baileys O'Reilly and a guinness or two...
Through out the day and in to the night....
No worries today to drunk for a fight...
St.Patty is here..
Now grab me a beer!!!
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 8:25 AM UTC
I feel drunk all the time.
You are on my mind like a sweet hangover [if such a thing is possible].
Oh, but it must be. Your eyes, the colour of dark Amaretto, I could stare
at them intensely, casually, aimlessly, eternally, until I'm completely drowning
in your bitter sweet gaze.
Just thinking of you literally makes my heart flutter. I can feel
this giant ache, a longing perhaps pulling my heart in multiple directions.
Every single alarm bell in my brain is going off and I know
this has to stop specially since it never began, and even when I can
actually taste the foreseen heartbreak like the smell of cheap ***** I still
crave for you, the alcoholic I am.
I want to savour you as I would a glass of Baileys on a summer evening.
But right now I frankly don't care. Give it to me as a single shot of Absynth,
and I'll down it in one go, because
Baby, I'm addicted to you!
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 7:40 PM UTC
I was wearing stale cream lace
that used to be white,
drinking watered-down baileys
with too much ice.
My neck was wrapped in pearls
when I told you;
"Maybe later I'll show you my tattoos"
So you grabbed my wrist
a little too tight,
and let me waste your time.
You swept me to the dance floor
and guided me through
the choreography of our vibes.
You asked me to take my make-up off
and shimmy across your center fold.
So I looked you up
and lay you down
and happily obliged.
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 8:12 AM UTC
For the weekest,
Meekest, lonely
And afriad;
Understand attention
Must be paid.
Offer a hand,
Help carry their weight,
Be sincere
On your first date;
Request true friendship on FB,
Get the Baileys, share your tea;
Turn on a light for the old,
Give a coat to the cold.
Don't just shake,
Embrace and hold.
Create you own way
To convey,
Serious attention
Must be paid.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
Garibaldi with a hot tub
Dear friends and chilled drinks
As we celebrate another harvest in the books
And the comradery shared
The double dozen produced
Like nobody’s business
Leaving with a bumper and the potential
To fast forward two years of payments
Another Baileys and ice for me, thanks
Soft footfalls in the hallway
Another flavor to savor the way that your
Grandmother asked you to chew longer
In the autumn on the veranda…. Or whatever:
I crack the jar and am met with a blast
Fresh smelling, properly cured,
Green, and beautiful
Did I mention effective?
we puff and pass and laugh
sharing these moments of triumph
enjoying each other’s company
on a clear and cool night
along the Oregon Coast –
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
i just love the monday gray sky, mixing nicotine phlegm cough-up roughage taking part of my larynx and the oesophagus wall off while drinking coffee and melted hazelnut flavoured ice-cream (baileys).
european languages tend to stress an atomised syllables,
therefore encouraging a “cheating” mechanisation of the tongue,
don’t get me wrong, due to the lack of diacritic
in english, we have a wide diversity of accents,
no scot would say a posh yes, but rather say aye
like a pirate to a squire in a top hat...
the asiatic languages tend to twin letters rather than breed them
as unique and segregational, but then come across the problem
of outspoken dyslexia: cat ketchup.
the asiatic countries solved the matter in the rubric:
ni in
hon noh
ar ra
el le
po op
hence so much grammatical schrapnel in european languages,
the prepositions and the conjunctions etc.
it’s no wonder the complexity of compounding H or He or O
within CO2 or H2 or EtOH is necessary as is pictographic
representation in mandarin;
but it does make the european languages very musical,
actually that's what defines european languages
their musicology is due to phonetic approximation
of their characters a - z, alas if that were the sole +
on the matter... it's also a strand of languages
that fakes concerns, lies, and sees a quick gain
crafting a breed of ohs and zeros in the millions
for no apparent reason other than self-promotion,
white snail caviar pearl chandeliers ritzy champagne and yachts;
no wonder we have a second alphabet! i.e.
onomatopoeia /ˌɒnəˌmætəˈpiːə/.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Three months ago, I never had any thoughts
About, love, loving someone, or being in love,
They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can't stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch! I say that's a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it!”
― C. JoyBell C.
If I was to tell you that I saw a rose blooming in the heart of winter
No one would believe me, that love struggling to stay afloat.
Perhaps, the rose is here to remind us, of something, we’ve have forgotten
During the summer's months, (like did we stop and smell the roses)? Such cliché indeed)
I never thought of the rose, until two days ago, when I told my friend about
That single rose I uses to get ever 6th of the month:
That too had stopped when our love for each other was dying like the rose:
However, the memory is still here, did I appreciated the rose gestures on the months
Yes, I did, I felt love, I felt the warmth inside.
It seems like I am going to be alone once again for Christmas
But I will think of that single rose,
I will drink my eggnog, and baileys Irish Cream
But will not bake my goose, but I will relive
Past memories, my mistletoe kiss will have to wait,
And disguise my disappointment like a true trooper:
(Laughter brings many positive qualities into the world and into human relationships.) quote
I am now seeing, why a laugh, a smile, a body gesture
Can make a person feel so good inside,
When he smiles at me:
And it's because, I open my heart, once again:
Dec 20, 2021
Dec 20, 2021 at 6:13 PM UTC
In these unified states
amazing fade-ins
A made-in Britain, Baileys bottle
subtle winter rattle, shaking
daydream from the poles
Scolded by the errant claim
that bold St George, is cross-eyed
lame and taking to the sherry...
Old Merry England!
- maybe-
That cherished land
that took my hand
That loved me
and forgave me
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 4:53 PM UTC
The sick green lights are off.
The takeaway was eaten
hours ago it seems.
The bottles are half empty.
The hourglass half full.
The clock is reading: TWO AM.
The movie is boring, she paces
across the room, crushing wrapping paper beneath her feet.
Her lover is upstairs, sleeping soundly,
she will leave before the week
is up, and the moments…
Every second a knocking.
Every minute a nail.
There's some baileys on the mantelpiece
it tastes strong and long and sweet.
She turns the fairy lights back on
and basks in Christmas Day.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 8:11 AM UTC
THE LONG HELLO
I left my memory
in a run-down hotel
all damp patches
& peeling plaster.
Who am I?
Wish I knew!
Maybe I'm a salesman
traveling in lady's underwear.
Naw...that don't seem right!
I looked into the blur
that formed & unformed
before me
constructing in my mind's eye
a Hollywood smile
that's all stage set
nothing behind it
but...
fakily real.
She had an Art Deco heart
she wore on her sleeve
bit frayed
'round the edges.
and a laugh that lingered
like perfume.
'Hi, Petal! '
her lopsided grin
was all femme
fatale.
She spoke
in Film Noir.
I knew
the lingo.
'Remember me? '
she sighed softly
as if caressing herself
remembering me caressing her.
I sure wish I remembered it
in intimate detail.
I'm a stickler for detail.
This broad
was slim
but with curves
in all the right places
; ; ; if ya get my drift.
Her laugh was all
lightness and lavender.
'Good...good! '
she cooed.
'I see your ******** is at least
listening! '
I involuntary
covered my crotch
with both hands
as if I was naked.
I wish she was.
Her curves flowed
like very runny honey
over the back of a spoon
trickling on to the tip
of a tongue.
She was strictly
yum as in YUM!
Then she went
all Cubist on me
as if she'd been badly drawn
by that Picasso artist.
I felt like a 2-D
drawing
as she approached me
in 3-D.
My conscience found
its voice
(down behind
the back of the couch)
It wheezed and wheedled
like it was Peter Lore.
'Ouch! ' I ouched.
'Ok...ok! '
I announced in a too loud voice
'I believe I know...
....who done it! '
'It was...' I stammered.
'It was...' I stuttered.
'Cut it...Cutes! '
she snapped like knicker elastic.
'I guess we both know the score.'
She somehow contrived
allowed her dress to fall
to the floor
where it pooled at her feet
like a green silk
puddle.
'Hey has anybody told you
you look just like *** a chelli's
Birth(I burp) of Venus! '
'Cut the wise cracks Jack...
it was the drink
...done it! '
'You just had one bottle of Baileys
too many! '
'But now...it's finished...ya hear
...finshed! '
She threw the bottle
over her naked shoulder.
I listened to her
in glorious Technicolour hangover.
She poured her body
all around me
like jelly
in a mold.
'Hung over sure...but
I think I got the cure! '
Her kiss was like
the last page
of a **** good Who
...dun it!
finally falling
falling
falling
into place.
I kissed her
lovely face.
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 6:41 AM UTC
On weekends, mixed in my coffee cup
Amaretto
Kahlua
Baileys Irish Creme
sometimes even Jack or Jim Beam
Usually black, though, for the day to day
my boss looks down on drinking at work
and I have bills to pay
Glorious, as it burns down my throat
a few minutes later the caffeine kicks in
and I am fueled up for the day
Time to be productive and earn my way
At Christmas a bit of eggnog
into my morning brew
It gets me in the spirit
to bite off what I need to chew
Summertime evenings
you'll never guess
a scoop of vanilla ice cream
is simply the best
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
Follow the rainbow
Find a *** of gold
St. Patrick’s Day is here
Put on your green and gold
You don’t have to be Irish
Just wear something green
Have yourself a Guinness
Some Baileys Irish Cream
Or Jameson Irish whiskey
Check out the Chicago River
As it turns green
Only on St Patrick’s Day
Can this be seen
This year there will be no Irish parade
But you can find an Irish Pub
And have a green beer to start you day
Belt out a verse of
My Wild Irish Rose or
My Irish Eyes Are Smiling
On St Patrick’s Day
Everyone in Irish
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 11:43 AM UTC