"publican" poems - Hello Poetry

The upbringing of a person could lead to a frivolous publican. A brother and sister are both witnessing the featherbrained fool. This world we live in is a bit bamboozle Escaping to a state of ecstasy with your purple kaleidoscope why don't we shape the future and use cinnamon soap. With your undercoats it's an antidote for a hurtful situation It's like we are burning in ice. Your a magician but you can't stop stupid. Adolescents knowing the need to finish yet they are taking over to much to cope. So now they are discovering, considering, cinnamon soap.

0

Apr 15, 2015

Apr 15, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC

penelopejayde

Cinnamon Soap

The upbringing of a person could lead to a frivolous publican. A brother and sister are both witnessing the featherbrained fool. This world we live in is a bit bamboozle Escaping to a state of ecstasy with your purple kaleidoscope why don't we shape the future and use cinnamon soap. With your undercoats it's an antidote for a hurtful situation It's like we are burning in ice. Your a magician but you can't stop stupid. Adolescents knowing the need to finish yet they are taking over to much to cope. So now they are discovering, considering, cinnamon soap.

9

Our local publican comes from Amsterdam. Because of his heart he has to watch it. Yet, once in a blue moon he gets very drunk. His favourite trick then is to shake every customer's hand and tell them with an assinine grin, insultingly, to disappear and never be seen again. Ah! Nobody takes offence and the next day everything is back to 'normal'.

0

Sep 6, 2010

Sep 6, 2010 at 7:04 AM UTC

john-oconnell

Our local publican

Our local publican comes from Amsterdam. Because of his heart he has to watch it. Yet, once in a blue moon he gets very drunk. His favourite trick then is to shake every customer's hand and tell them with an assinine grin, insultingly, to disappear and never be seen again. Ah! Nobody takes offence and the next day everything is back to 'normal'.

24

Threatened curiosity rhymes better than I A panic attack infused with sinusitis Willesden digs clang its tentacles into blobbed concrete. Cringing as I walked by Anita scrawled her unsavoury - mercy. She could not endure a Son of a Publican on a weekend jolt, a hand washed duvet potested, pitch and putt compressed too many red lines crossed.

0

Nov 19, 2012

Nov 19, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC

topaz-oreilly

Beak regret

Threatened curiosity rhymes better than I A panic attack infused with sinusitis Willesden digs clang its tentacles into blobbed concrete. Cringing as I walked by Anita scrawled her unsavoury - mercy. She could not endure a Son of a Publican on a weekend jolt, a hand washed duvet potested, pitch and putt compressed too many red lines crossed.

11

the men in their shiny arsed suits gather close to the door inhale the incense, the mothball aroma of their neighbour’s Sunday best endure the droning of the priest, who denounces the idleness of men the sinfulness of women they feel ferocious thirsts building their minds have wandered to the pub where the publican is pulling pints of porter letting them stand, almost full, on the bar foaming, settling, forming voluptuous heads waiting for the appreciative lips, mouths, tongues of the restless church bound men. one breaks ranks, sidles out the door the others look sheepishly at each other and sidle, dribble across the road to slake their thirsts knowing that they have, barely, done their duty for the week they can, with an almost clear conscience drown their sins in the landlord’s best beer.

0

Nov 23, 2011

Nov 23, 2011 at 5:07 AM UTC

mike-hopkins

Mass in the West of Ireland

the men in their shiny arsed suits gather close to the door inhale the incense, the mothball aroma of their neighbour’s Sunday best endure the droning of the priest, who denounces the idleness of men the sinfulness of women they feel ferocious thirsts building their minds have wandered to the pub where the publican is pulling pints of porter letting them stand, almost full, on the bar foaming, settling, forming voluptuous heads waiting for the appreciative lips, mouths, tongues of the restless church bound men. one breaks ranks, sidles out the door the others look sheepishly at each other and sidle, dribble across the road to slake their thirsts knowing that they have, barely, done their duty for the week they can, with an almost clear conscience drown their sins in the landlord’s best beer.

18

It is a slow day in a little Greek Village. The rain is beating down and the streets are deserted. Times are tough, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit. On this particular day a rich German tourist is driving through the village, stops at the local hotel and lays a €100 note on the desk, telling the hotel owner he wants to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one to spend the night. The owner gives him some keys and, as soon as the visitor has walked upstairs, the hotelier grabs the €100 note and runs next door to pay his debt to the butcher. The butcher takes the €100 note and runs down the street to repay his debt to the pig farmer. The pig farmer takes the €100 note and heads off to pay his bill at the supplier of feed and fuel. The guy at the Farmers' Co-op takes the €100 note and runs to pay his drinks bill at the taverna. The publican slips the money along to the local ********** drinking at the bar, who has also been facing hard times and has had to offer him "services" on credit. The ****** then rushes to the hotel and pays off her room bill to the hotel owner with the €100 note. The hotel proprietor then places the €100 note back on the counter so the rich traveller will not suspect anything. At that moment the traveller comes down the stairs, picks up the €100 note, states that the rooms are not satisfactory, pockets the money, and leaves town. No one produced anything. No one earned anything. However, the whole village is now out of debt and looking to the future with a lot more optimism. And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is how the bailout package works. Wonderful article passed on to me by an anonymous author Marshalg Victoria Park Tunnel 6 march 2012

0

Mar 5, 2012

Mar 5, 2012 at 3:21 PM UTC

marshal-gebbie

The Greek Bailout

It is a slow day in a little Greek Village. The rain is beating down and the streets are deserted. Times are tough, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit. On this particular day a rich German tourist is driving through the village, stops at the local hotel and lays a €100 note on the desk, telling the hotel owner he wants to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one to spend the night. The owner gives him some keys and, as soon as the visitor has walked upstairs, the hotelier grabs the €100 note and runs next door to pay his debt to the butcher. The butcher takes the €100 note and runs down the street to repay his debt to the pig farmer. The pig farmer takes the €100 note and heads off to pay his bill at the supplier of feed and fuel. The guy at the Farmers' Co-op takes the €100 note and runs to pay his drinks bill at the taverna. The publican slips the money along to the local ********** drinking at the bar, who has also been facing hard times and has had to offer him "services" on credit. The ****** then rushes to the hotel and pays off her room bill to the hotel owner with the €100 note. The hotel proprietor then places the €100 note back on the counter so the rich traveller will not suspect anything. At that moment the traveller comes down the stairs, picks up the €100 note, states that the rooms are not satisfactory, pockets the money, and leaves town. No one produced anything. No one earned anything. However, the whole village is now out of debt and looking to the future with a lot more optimism. And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is how the bailout package works. Wonderful article passed on to me by an anonymous author Marshalg Victoria Park Tunnel 6 march 2012

5

our local hotel is a great gathering place it is a fine place for the boozers to congregate after a schooner or an eighteen gallon keg all of the patrons are smashed out of their heads many are unable to walk a straight line and some flake out on the foot path to sleep overnight the beers is made of the best hops and yeast that's why the drinkers partake of a goodly amount our local publican has happy hour on Friday nights and the customers gorge themselves with plenty of free ***** usually by half past ten all the drinkers are hanging over the bar they can hardly stand up after consuming so much ale it is always dry weather at a bush hotel that is why there is such a thirsty clientele the local watering hole has heaps of liquid amber on tap so if you are in or around our parts drop in and have a pint with us as we wouldn't want you to die for lack of refreshment

0

Sep 18, 2013

Sep 18, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC

ElizabethSquires

Our Local Hotel

our local hotel is a great gathering place it is a fine place for the boozers to congregate after a schooner or an eighteen gallon keg all of the patrons are smashed out of their heads many are unable to walk a straight line and some flake out on the foot path to sleep overnight the beers is made of the best hops and yeast that's why the drinkers partake of a goodly amount our local publican has happy hour on Friday nights and the customers gorge themselves with plenty of free ***** usually by half past ten all the drinkers are hanging over the bar they can hardly stand up after consuming so much ale it is always dry weather at a bush hotel that is why there is such a thirsty clientele the local watering hole has heaps of liquid amber on tap so if you are in or around our parts drop in and have a pint with us as we wouldn't want you to die for lack of refreshment

44

Tommy I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here." The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die, I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away"; But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play, The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play, O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play. I went into a theatre as sober as could be, They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me; They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls, But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls! For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside"; But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide, The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide, O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide. Yes, **makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;** An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?" But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll, The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll. We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too, But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you; An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints, Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints; While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind", But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind, There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind, O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind. **You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all: We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace. For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!" But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot; An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please; An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!**

0

Apr 15, 2015

Apr 15, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC

mike-essig

Rudyard Kipling

Tommy I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here." The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die, I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away"; But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play, The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play, O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play. I went into a theatre as sober as could be, They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me; They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls, But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls! For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside"; But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide, The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide, O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide. Yes, **makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;** An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?" But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll, The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll. We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too, But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you; An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints, Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints; While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind", But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind, There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind, O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind. **You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all: We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace. For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!" But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot; An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please; An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!**

41

Call me lunatic if you must , the Moon if you will ! I , Randolph L Wilson , crazy as a June bug , most assuredly chemically depressed , a studious satellite that ponders the Earth ! With keen knowledge of the dominant species , their transgressions and capabilities . 'Tis with complete faculty of mind that I continue to remain in complete physical apogee from my kind the remainder of my days ! Political persuasion whispered in passing shall render the wise man incommunicado , deaf to much speaks , tongue nailed to the upper palate of thy mouth ! I would sooner wrestle a ravenous Grizzly Bear than assume the mechanisms of the female mind , walk barefooted over hot coals before allowing a publican one minute of my precious time ! Would gladly face the unquenchable fire than deal with the most "respectable Attorney" available ! Look as though I've witnessed a ghost when questioned as to my religious persuasion ! Fifty years bankrupt to the true wealth of the world , my soul at rest this very hour , held within my hands , the jewels of insight and enlightenment ! Metta morning , metta Noon , metta late in the afternoon , count thy blessings at the foot of the bed , extol loves many rewards with every breath , walk with eyes affixed to their destination , looking right nor left , freeing the mind of numerous trepidation .! The Moon

0

Nov 11, 2015

Nov 11, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Evening thoughts .....

Call me lunatic if you must , the Moon if you will ! I , Randolph L Wilson , crazy as a June bug , most assuredly chemically depressed , a studious satellite that ponders the Earth ! With keen knowledge of the dominant species , their transgressions and capabilities . 'Tis with complete faculty of mind that I continue to remain in complete physical apogee from my kind the remainder of my days ! Political persuasion whispered in passing shall render the wise man incommunicado , deaf to much speaks , tongue nailed to the upper palate of thy mouth ! I would sooner wrestle a ravenous Grizzly Bear than assume the mechanisms of the female mind , walk barefooted over hot coals before allowing a publican one minute of my precious time ! Would gladly face the unquenchable fire than deal with the most "respectable Attorney" available ! Look as though I've witnessed a ghost when questioned as to my religious persuasion ! Fifty years bankrupt to the true wealth of the world , my soul at rest this very hour , held within my hands , the jewels of insight and enlightenment ! Metta morning , metta Noon , metta late in the afternoon , count thy blessings at the foot of the bed , extol loves many rewards with every breath , walk with eyes affixed to their destination , looking right nor left , freeing the mind of numerous trepidation .! The Moon

8

Stupid questions require curt answers .. Engage truth , commit thy rage upon rice paper , delicate unlike publican , thespian , braying *** like painfully obvious , politically charged shadow puppets against a lighted stage ! Unable to fly high enough alongside a chosen group of your peers ? Perfectly reasonable to light upon placid waters , disappear .. A pack of coyotes , seeking fifteen minutes in the sun ? Remain fastidious and occupied with your own backyard ! A wayward mouth that fosters hate and destruction ? Remove thy tongue , let it locate a new owner ! Adorned with all manner of material wealth , sneering at the plight of others ? Step in the cold , dark woods with howl of bobcat , naked and afraid , relearn thy place amongst your brothers !!

0

Oct 12, 2015

Oct 12, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

To my Spoken Word Artist

Stupid questions require curt answers .. Engage truth , commit thy rage upon rice paper , delicate unlike publican , thespian , braying *** like painfully obvious , politically charged shadow puppets against a lighted stage ! Unable to fly high enough alongside a chosen group of your peers ? Perfectly reasonable to light upon placid waters , disappear .. A pack of coyotes , seeking fifteen minutes in the sun ? Remain fastidious and occupied with your own backyard ! A wayward mouth that fosters hate and destruction ? Remove thy tongue , let it locate a new owner ! Adorned with all manner of material wealth , sneering at the plight of others ? Step in the cold , dark woods with howl of bobcat , naked and afraid , relearn thy place amongst your brothers !!

9

*Guitar buried in effects Women mired in makeup Men wrapped in ego Woodwork dripping with shellac Seafood dipped in breading Carpet drowning in dust The baptized cleansed in water The son copying the father A publican garnering trust A 62' John Deere seized with rust The dead becoming dust A poker hand royal flush An over and under combination A gods abomination Traipsing the woodline for a spell A five o'clock trip from hell* ...

0

Mar 28, 2017

Mar 28, 2017 at 10:49 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

A quick collection of random thoughts

*Guitar buried in effects Women mired in makeup Men wrapped in ego Woodwork dripping with shellac Seafood dipped in breading Carpet drowning in dust The baptized cleansed in water The son copying the father A publican garnering trust A 62' John Deere seized with rust The dead becoming dust A poker hand royal flush An over and under combination A gods abomination Traipsing the woodline for a spell A five o'clock trip from hell* ...

16

*Sometimes I'm the flood light drawing flies Sometimes I'm the shadow fending off the night Polished , debonair and inquiring Repugnant , standoffish and dying Counting the stars on a flag The panels on a wood floor One day a publican One day a mannish ***** I feel like one day the gun will be loaded- when I decide to test immortality I long to leave this pile of corrupted flesh Follow the sun west then disappearing over someone's picturesque horizon* ..

0

Mar 1, 2017

Mar 1, 2017 at 10:16 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Too Much To Bear Sometimes ..

*Sometimes I'm the flood light drawing flies Sometimes I'm the shadow fending off the night Polished , debonair and inquiring Repugnant , standoffish and dying Counting the stars on a flag The panels on a wood floor One day a publican One day a mannish ***** I feel like one day the gun will be loaded- when I decide to test immortality I long to leave this pile of corrupted flesh Follow the sun west then disappearing over someone's picturesque horizon* ..

13

*I care not what the 'peoples endless song' alludes to , For I've reached my own personal conclusion Save the cake recipe for another , for the - icing is normally the same as all the others Overalls cover my body better than the works of the finest clothiers There is not a sock on this earth that competes with - bare feet to warm grass , I've yet to witness a publican - that failed to 'out bray a Jack Ass' Whiskey is good medicine for sore backs and 'hay cough' Fancy cocktails and beer are the stuff of the spoiled and the jaded debutant A full week of work is a gift , one hour without makes a sound mind drift Simple music and ways can move a mountain A parched , shut mouth with an open mind will lead thee to a cool fountain Plan the death of a horse with a donkey in waiting , for the lamp a candle , the truck a wagon , for the cup a ladle Watch the beast of the field quite closely for each one tells an invaluable story Look into the eye of the January wind , face the Sun of August as if welcoming a friend , tithe the God of November rain with laborious days , face the storms of March unafraid* ...

0

Oct 3, 2016

Oct 3, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

For Harrison ...

*I care not what the 'peoples endless song' alludes to , For I've reached my own personal conclusion Save the cake recipe for another , for the - icing is normally the same as all the others Overalls cover my body better than the works of the finest clothiers There is not a sock on this earth that competes with - bare feet to warm grass , I've yet to witness a publican - that failed to 'out bray a Jack Ass' Whiskey is good medicine for sore backs and 'hay cough' Fancy cocktails and beer are the stuff of the spoiled and the jaded debutant A full week of work is a gift , one hour without makes a sound mind drift Simple music and ways can move a mountain A parched , shut mouth with an open mind will lead thee to a cool fountain Plan the death of a horse with a donkey in waiting , for the lamp a candle , the truck a wagon , for the cup a ladle Watch the beast of the field quite closely for each one tells an invaluable story Look into the eye of the January wind , face the Sun of August as if welcoming a friend , tithe the God of November rain with laborious days , face the storms of March unafraid* ...

16

The Non-art At a posh theatre in New York where ticket prices Are more than a working man's monthly wage An actor took it upon himself to lecture the vice- president-elect In a manner that was both offensive and patronising What is an actor? It is a person who speaks the lines written by others And if he speaks those lines smoothly ***** is famous Acting is not really an art form more like a mimicking form it Comes in the same category as poetry a non-art What can we say about the publican who applauded this display? Of vulgarity other than to find them tasteless and ignorant Actors should speak their lines political opinions off stage the same Goes for poet to write your dreamy lines but leave your Politics to the Twitter pages

0

Nov 20, 2016

Nov 20, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC

jan-oskar-hansen

the non-art

The Non-art At a posh theatre in New York where ticket prices Are more than a working man's monthly wage An actor took it upon himself to lecture the vice- president-elect In a manner that was both offensive and patronising What is an actor? It is a person who speaks the lines written by others And if he speaks those lines smoothly ***** is famous Acting is not really an art form more like a mimicking form it Comes in the same category as poetry a non-art What can we say about the publican who applauded this display? Of vulgarity other than to find them tasteless and ignorant Actors should speak their lines political opinions off stage the same Goes for poet to write your dreamy lines but leave your Politics to the Twitter pages

14

the most violent storms fill my cup publican for sure I will fly this time accountability is not important for the last time and it should be different you be carefull I will tell you a lot

0

Aug 8, 2017

Aug 8, 2017 at 7:33 PM UTC

semihten5

BE CAREFULL

the most violent storms fill my cup publican for sure I will fly this time accountability is not important for the last time and it should be different you be carefull I will tell you a lot

5