"dewar" poems - Hello Poetry

A gaggle of glamour girls, Debutantes of Times gone by. With talk of Aruba, White Sands and clear blue waters, Spoken to inspire jealousy to all those around. And of organization, Motherhood and label makers, Construction of pigeon holes for every part of life. And the Latino Girl at work, Whispers of the lasciviousness of a life unknown, In the silliness of two glasses of white wine each. I smoke a barrier between them and me. In an effusive hurried rush they leave, In search of sustenance of the soul, In search of Sisterhood. I sit in a Dewar’s drought. She walks by and grazes her fingertips across my back, A touch of familiarity, A touch that I long for. Gently, I speak, Within this microcosm, You stand as Aphrodite. Smiling, she goes about her work. I return the appreciation, The warmth of bad bourbon, Exuding from my pores. Cause I sit in a Dewar’s drought. They sit down in the virility of youth, Testosterone tilted hats, Speaking the language of Poser Street, In the melody of white noise. Showcasing the uniforms of a self-created culture. I turn and tune them out.

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Jan 24, 2014

Jan 24, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC

infidelnc

Gentle Aphrodite

A gaggle of glamour girls, Debutantes of Times gone by. With talk of Aruba, White Sands and clear blue waters, Spoken to inspire jealousy to all those around. And of organization, Motherhood and label makers, Construction of pigeon holes for every part of life. And the Latino Girl at work, Whispers of the lasciviousness of a life unknown, In the silliness of two glasses of white wine each. I smoke a barrier between them and me. In an effusive hurried rush they leave, In search of sustenance of the soul, In search of Sisterhood. I sit in a Dewar’s drought. She walks by and grazes her fingertips across my back, A touch of familiarity, A touch that I long for. Gently, I speak, Within this microcosm, You stand as Aphrodite. Smiling, she goes about her work. I return the appreciation, The warmth of bad bourbon, Exuding from my pores. Cause I sit in a Dewar’s drought. They sit down in the virility of youth, Testosterone tilted hats, Speaking the language of Poser Street, In the melody of white noise. Showcasing the uniforms of a self-created culture. I turn and tune them out.

33

Mr. Ivories entertains with elan, daily during cocktails on the mezzanine level. Jolene always orders a Black Russian, mine is a Dewar's and water. We drop a fiver in his basket on the Steinway, along with a request for "Ebb Tide", Jolene's personal favorite. He conjures an image of Fred Astaire at keyboard, his tails flipped elegantly over the piano bench, like long black raven's plumes. Jolene points out two announcers from CNN, seated opposite. Makes us feel important by mere association. Our waitress asks, would we like another round before the hour's end, as we speculate about Mr. Ivories' musical propensity. Time escapes in moonlit harmonic vapors, leaves us already longing our next soiree.

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Feb 20, 2012

Feb 20, 2012 at 12:07 AM UTC

brian-oarr

Mr. Ivories

Mr. Ivories entertains with elan, daily during cocktails on the mezzanine level. Jolene always orders a Black Russian, mine is a Dewar's and water. We drop a fiver in his basket on the Steinway, along with a request for "Ebb Tide", Jolene's personal favorite. He conjures an image of Fred Astaire at keyboard, his tails flipped elegantly over the piano bench, like long black raven's plumes. Jolene points out two announcers from CNN, seated opposite. Makes us feel important by mere association. Our waitress asks, would we like another round before the hour's end, as we speculate about Mr. Ivories' musical propensity. Time escapes in moonlit harmonic vapors, leaves us already longing our next soiree.

19

When it rains, it pours; A downpour less frequently wet, sure Dancing a shambling, ill-dressed manticore Who has barely the strength to shake anymore Find the only chagrin of the forecast is yours But you bring some fine wine, a handle of Dewar’s Your mind ascending from improbable sewers Searing tomatoes, aged beef on skewers Burned-off or absorbed during barhopping tours With whom you lounged on Mediterranean shores In your history head: Mongols, Turkmen, and Moors It hits you again ‘til another drink floors you Sleep on a sofa where bad weather ignores you And somewhere inside a girl asks, “From who Comes a voice (yours) at night ambling the halls?” The friendliest ghost, not haunting at all Who’ll likely come by if you give him the call But leave in the morning before sunlight is tall Out of fear of breaking some protocol Despite this, you’ve certainly seen so They keep you around as part of this scene, so This is your life, just how it should be, so Thank you my dears, my beloved Piso

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Mar 23, 2010

Mar 23, 2010 at 4:33 PM UTC

edward-j-mis

Between a Couch and a Hard Place

When it rains, it pours; A downpour less frequently wet, sure Dancing a shambling, ill-dressed manticore Who has barely the strength to shake anymore Find the only chagrin of the forecast is yours But you bring some fine wine, a handle of Dewar’s Your mind ascending from improbable sewers Searing tomatoes, aged beef on skewers Burned-off or absorbed during barhopping tours With whom you lounged on Mediterranean shores In your history head: Mongols, Turkmen, and Moors It hits you again ‘til another drink floors you Sleep on a sofa where bad weather ignores you And somewhere inside a girl asks, “From who Comes a voice (yours) at night ambling the halls?” The friendliest ghost, not haunting at all Who’ll likely come by if you give him the call But leave in the morning before sunlight is tall Out of fear of breaking some protocol Despite this, you’ve certainly seen so They keep you around as part of this scene, so This is your life, just how it should be, so Thank you my dears, my beloved Piso

23

Karta hu mein anurodh sakrkar see Mat baato pratibhaoo ko aarakshan ki talwar see Mat baato insan ko Samanyata k naam pe Jo sresth hai use ko Milne chaiye pad Jo worest hai use kaise bante ** best Na woh bade hai Na hum chote hai Joh sreasth hai, Wahe best hai Toh Kyu hai yeah reservation ki Dewar Todh do aur KR do sabko saman #reservation #hellopoetry

0

Feb 19, 2018

Feb 19, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC

akash-gupta-1

Reservation

Karta hu mein anurodh sakrkar see Mat baato pratibhaoo ko aarakshan ki talwar see Mat baato insan ko Samanyata k naam pe Jo sresth hai use ko Milne chaiye pad Jo worest hai use kaise bante ** best Na woh bade hai Na hum chote hai Joh sreasth hai, Wahe best hai Toh Kyu hai yeah reservation ki Dewar Todh do aur KR do sabko saman #reservation #hellopoetry

12