"sherry" poems
Respect our elders, for we'll be the same one day
with wrinkles, forgetfull and hair of silver grey
But apart from the old wrinkle
in the eye there will be a twinkle
As the old ones dont hold back on what they say.
Then they smile and deny what they have said
Have no remorse or feelings of guilt in their head
Nobody minds if they blow raspberries galore
or gulp down the sherry and then ask for more
I dont think being old is nothing to fear or dread!
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 6:01 AM UTC
the sun is a done
bun hon'.
worry now,
it can't be undone.
hurry now,
your pens and paper for fun.
you know it's too soon
to feel the flurry bow
down to rend bones
into red and vapor for fun.
so **** my **** and call me cherry.
pour the sherry one more time,
I can feel the divine
flesh and scrape her for fun.
knives and saccharine,
guns to blow the *****
off each and every one.
don't worry hon',
it's just for fun.
Mar 15, 2022
Mar 15, 2022 at 4:15 PM UTC
Inspired by a vintage ****** postcard from the 1920s - 30s:
The Muse sits resplendent
caressed in sepia tones and pastel cream
gilded with the glaze of a bygone era
her silk Charleston negligee
worn proud like a vintage ornament
perched on an aesthetically pleasing
shapely pert insolent *****
blossomed with tiny beads of sweat
the heat of such anticipation
entices the pearls of the ******
to pamper and pleasure their perversions
etched as if in a radiance of candlelight
the flickering limbs pulse their bloom
nimble fingers of dancing shadows
cupping the feline curves of a chaise longue
the purposefully out of place set piece
the fantasy of a gentleman's reading room
caked in casked sherry
and Nat Sherman cigar infused aromas
her elegant pose sumptuous reclining
elbow length satin gloves
sensually wrapped in wanton desire
two fingers clasp a Sorbranie Black Russian
smoked like a sultry gypsy
with a fervent demeanour
from a silver opera cigarette holder
beckoning with the cats eyes of mischief
over Pinced nez eyeglasses
with a fascination imbibed
in the praxis of passion
the peach skin of refulgent youth
directs the viewer downwards, slowly
survey each contour of olive skin
and stroke every hidden cleft of fabric
to glimpse the nubile thighs of grace
leading the eye to the arch of an ankle
slipped like a fitted glove
nestled in the cleavage of her calf
and the chastity of future wonderment
the forgotten photograph
captures a period in time
the memories of the muse
now in motionless existence
a demure allure forever frozen
once lost, but now
never forgotten
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 2:40 AM UTC
I found a book of wisdom
And read it through and through
To learn about a way of life
Taught by a great Guru.
He said the way to inner peace
Was there for everyone—
Just make a list and finish
All those things you’ve left undone.
I searched my own house thoroughly
And made myself a list.
I finished off these undone things
As I fulfilled my quest:
A bottle of Jack Daniel’s,
Three of my favorite rums,
Some sherry and some cooking wine,
A box or two of tums,
A box of chocolate cherries—brandied to give a kick
I’m now a mellow fellow
But I’m also terribly sick!
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 2:50 AM UTC
I cannot feel the love thats there
My Christmas failed
Bleak ended
All is fair
No sherry cheer or party grape
It's all inside
The dreaded
Hate
The songs I love now rattle hard
Slam the silence
Breath out
Loud
The sheep I shout
No more to care
You hear me now
Scrooge
I am
“Bah," said Scrooge, "Humbug.”
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 9:07 AM UTC
ohhhhh..... santa be good to me this year
ohhhhh..... santa i love your fluffy beard
ohhhhh..... santa i sent you my big list
ohhhhh..... santa i sealed it with a kiss
on Christmas eve the big man knew he had a job to do
he'd worked all year to fill his sacks and bring some Christmas cheer
his elfs and freinds had wrapped and wrapped until it was all done
now santa's night is nearly here its time to have some fun
ohhhhh..... santa be good to me this year
ohhhhh..... santa i love your fluffy beard
ohhhhh..... santa i sent you my big list
ohhhhh..... santa i sealed it with a kiss
Now children listen did you do good and be a star shine bright
Now children listen did you do good so santa comes tonight
he knows you know the ones that show a love and care for him
its santa's secret so he says ....rudolph lets begin
ohhhhh..... santa be good to me this year
ohhhhh..... santa i love your fluffy beard
ohhhhh..... santa i sent you my big list
ohhhhh..... santa i sealed it with a kiss
** ** ** a mince pie please as santa leaves his sack
and dont forget the reindeers food or we wont be back
a tipple of sherry and a note ...saying thanks a lot
see ya next year santa says chimney up i pop
ohhhhh..... santa be good to me this year
ohhhhh..... santa dear i look
ohhhhh..... santa yes yes yes yes yes.. pressies all around
ohhhhh..... santa love ya lots and lots ..kissy kiss kiss kiss
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 1:14 AM UTC
Felt like the steel tipped edges of a fake sword,
A young lover's sting, inclined to make one sob
And feel sorry
But no, not a word
Spoken 'gainst the face of the snob
Never a parry
Nor a word against sherry
Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 7:35 PM UTC
The donkey and the ox
what a racket they must have made!
Munching on the straw
from the crib in the manger.
Such thick headed beasts!
How did our Savior survive
with all of His toes -
His swaddling free of slobber?
Imagine, if you will
their warm grassy breath forming
little clouds that were filled
with His radiance.
And pity poor Joseph
asleep, off to the side, and Mary
completely exhausted.
For, while resting, they missed
what soft brown eyes sensed -
that before shepherd or angel
or wise man arrived, a feast
had been set for the taking.
(For Sherry Smith)
Tom Spencer © 2018
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 8:01 AM UTC
This sherry trifle with clotted cream,
that tray of sugar cookies there.
My best laid plans to lose some weight
are thwarted by this time of year.
I shouldn’t go for my arteries’ sake
to Holiday parties with frosted cakes
As it is, I can inhale
chocolates quicker that I can Kale.
Each holiday brings treats and beers
and another roll of fat appears.
Perhaps before I’m too far gone
I ought to switch to Ramadan.
While not convinced about the rest
Self abnegation should be stressed.
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 5:36 PM UTC
This is a poem about a woman named sherry
All that she wanted was a good man to marry
She looked and looked and to her surprise
She fell in love with a woman with really green eyes
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 3:31 AM UTC
Your Uncle Fred
on Christmas Eve
at Gran’s house
when you were a kid
did the sand dance
wearing an old fashion
man’s striped nightgown
and a red fez
(he got that in Egypt
during WW2
Gran said)
and brown
open toed sandals
and Uncle Ed
turned the handle
of the windup gramophone
where an old
78rpm record
was playing
and there were
glasses of sherry
being consumed
and cigarettes being smoked
and you sat watching
clapping your hands
and Gran would get up
afterwards
and do her Can-Can
like she used to
as she young woman
on the stage
and Granddad sat there
quiet saying nothing
looking at
the people gathered
sipping his sherry
watching his wife
lifting her legs
her white fuzzy hair
going to and fro
as she moved
and you wanted
to have some sherry
but your mother said
no you have lemonade
little boys
don’t have sherry
so you sat
with your lemonade
watching Uncle Fred
and his dance
and the music coming
from the old gramophone
and the smell of sherry
and beer and cigarette smoke
and Uncle telling the adults
one of his old army jokes.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 5:26 AM UTC
as i sit here,
eating yet another
bowl of trifle,
that is rabbit-like,
in it's ability,
to seem neverending.
my thoughts lollop,
with leperorine grace to,
fibonacci
and his box of bunnies
multipying and multiplying....
....ad infinitum...
another spoon,
to my mouth.
stop....
the sun's gentle rays,
sparkle through,
jellies translucency.
as tastebuds swoon
at sweet sugar's mango rush.
synapses hop and pop within
my head....
and in my mind's eye,
i see flopsy, mopsy,
cottontail..boy and paul.
(not peter..copyright laws)
cavorting with fibonacci's
numbers,
1,1,3,5,8,13,21....and so on.
playing leap frog, in a hedge
maze.
they play and add and hop and
grow,
in an unending trail,
spiraling off.... into the west,
in a sweet smelling lavender haze.
at this point, i'm now thinking...
just, how much sherry did
aunty beryl put in this magic
trifle....
if i am honest with myself
and with you as well.
i will open my heart to confess.
to three new,
believed abstractions:
one;
after all these years(47)
i am still enamoured of beatrix's
cute little rabbits
(but i must still claim
miss jemima puddleduck
as my all time favourite)
two;
fibonacci's numbers still rule
(what an extraordinary mind
this man owned and used
to the betterment of man kind)
and three;
....much more prosaically..
you see...
i fear i am having a moment of
metenoia ....
with regard to the trifle...
and the amount of it's delctable
connsumption.
i can now clearly
and a tiny bit queasily,
see....
what it is to be a glutton!!!
and i find repentant thoughts
of never again will i eat so much...
(in one sitting)....
are stomping on the rabbits.
(fortunately the rabbits are
getting out of the way....
...quick little fellas aren't they..
...no rabbits were hurt in the filming
of this imaginary sequence...)
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
Soon be Christmas ...a special day
lots of pressies from Santa's sleigh
children be good or as they say
no big parcels coming your way
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to all my friends
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to family afar
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to one and all
Happy Christmas
Lights from the tree burn and glow
showing the way for santa to go
children waking from little no sleep
parents craving another 2 winks
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to all my friends
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to family afar
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to one and all
Happy Christmas
4am and Santa's been
all those wishes a dreamers dream
wrapping and squeals in lots of houses
turkey in now sherry starters
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to all my friends
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to family afar
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to one and all
Happy Christmas
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 1:37 AM UTC
On Christmas eve the big man knew he had a job to do
He'd worked all year to fill his sacks and bring some Christmas cheer
His elf's and friends had wrapped and wrapped until it was all done
Now Santa's night is nearly here its time to have some fun
Ohhhhh..... Santa be good to me this year
Ohhhhh..... Santa I love your fluffy beard
Ohhhhh..... Santa I sent you my big list
Ohhhhh..... Santa I sealed it with a kiss
Now children listen did you do good and be a star shine bright
Now children listen did you do good so Santa comes tonight
He knows you know the ones that show a love and care for him
It's Santa's secret so he says ....Rudolph lets begin
Ohhhhh..... Santa be good to me this year
Ohhhhh..... Santa I love your fluffy beard
Ohhhhh..... Santa I sent you my big list
Ohhhhh..... Santa I sealed it with a kiss
** ** ** a mince pie please as Santa leaves his sack
And don't forget the reindeer's food or we wont be back
A tipple of sherry and a note ...saying thanks a lot
See ya next year Santa says chimney up i pop
Ohhhhh..... Santa be good to me this year
Ohhhhh..... Santa dear i look
Ohhhhh..... Santa yes yes yes yes yes.. pressies all around
Ohhhhh..... Santa love ya lots and lots ..kissy kiss kiss kiss
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 1:47 AM UTC
134
Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower,
But I could never sell—
If you would like to borrow,
Until the Daffodil
Unties her yellow Bonnet
Beneath the village door,
Until the Bees, from Clover rows
Their Hock, and Sherry, draw,
Why, I will lend until just then,
But not an hour more!
1.9k
Stopper allsh Chub forsh shrame Good Chinwag, yah?
Arsh sieve Combatibles posh Boys bare playe
Shaye, yay Share! Bar score thore Pieces me - bah!
Mayse Lion bare thine; Yare Deer-Berry splaye
Wot cot Beagle-Risen thorse Polliwog
Spout Arms dash Legs arsh instant forsh shore Sport
Water-Rouse, rebound! Spare Skin-Sherry shogg
Staple coach-wires faye John Tom's Report
Behave, tharne! Parallipparel Shape conduct
Pour-Pore noodlesee Six-Squares shrub contesse
Mare beere yorsh Chest torso-avenue locke
Reprodpress marsh baye Bub-Peppers finesse.
Staye-upon-staye bore thoose talkitook borough
Boy-ish-Boy-font-fare-Potiphar-although.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 7:59 AM UTC
Your lips,
they're as red as cherries
and as sweet as Sherry
I'm pretty sure
only a sip of them
can get me drunk
But darling,
if it's your lips that I kiss
I'm willing to get intoxicated
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
ARISTOCRATIC CHRISTMAS
The goose was plucked for Christmas
Not a feather was in sight
The butler cleaned the silver
Cook baked with all of her might
The aristocrats in the morning room
Sipped a sherry or two
Whilst waiting for their dinner
It was the thing to do
All dressed in their finery
The children there as well
All except for Grandpa
(The stories he could tell!)
No one alas was listening
And no one noticed there
He’d on one foot a slipper
And the other was quite bare.
Below stairs was quite hectic
Upstairs all serene
And all along the passageways
And sometimes in between
Servants rushed as servants do
To make things run with ease
Tending fires fetching things
Aiming just to please
And Grandpa sat and nodded
His head sank on his chest
He remembered long ago
The Christmas he’d thought best
With one foot in a slipper
The other one quite bare
He waited for his dinner
Sat there in his chair
And soon the gong it sounded
Its boom rang loud and clear
They all trooped in the dining room
With those they held so dear
The table was resplendent
The glasses gleamed and shone
The cutlery was sparkling
The goose it weighed a ton
The master carved the mistress smiled
The children looked in awe
The butler served the vegetables
(Cos that’s what they are for)
The pudding was amazing
The brandy sauce was ace
They ate and ate until alas
No more could they face
All except for Grandpa
He was sat quite still
And no one noticed him not there
As they all ate their fill
With one foot in his slipper
The other one quite bare.
On Christmas day he died alone
Sat there in his chair.
© Pamela Brooke 2009
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 9:32 AM UTC
Soon be Christmas ...a special day
Lots of pressies from Santa's sleigh
Children be good or as they say
No big parcels coming your way
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to all my friends
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to family afar
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to one and all
Happy Christmas
Lights from the tree burn and glow
Showing the way for Santa to go
Children waking from little no sleep
Parents craving another 2 winks
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to all my friends
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to family afar
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to one and all
Happy Christmas
4am and Santa's been
All those wishes a dreamers dream
Wrapping and squeals in lots of houses
Turkey in now sherry starters
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to all my friends
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to family afar
Happy Christmas Happy Christmas
to one and all
Happy Christmas
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
Elves, fairies, dancing queens,
Flirting among the rubble.
Tossing their heads to and fro
Launching into a spiral of trouble.
They of course, laugh in jest
Drunk all of them, seeing double.
Rosy beer in one hand, sherry in another
Creating a hilarious spiral of trouble.
They brewed it themselves, the elves
Bringing the fermenting apples to a bubble.
Tossing in rose petals, well that did the trick
Causing a spiral of trouble.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
Kristallnacht
The night that was Fought
Jew against Aryan
Filled with sin
No-one had to win
But the **** party
Thought of a race oh so hearty
Emotions ran high
Soldiers were high on ****
Forced to their death
March, March soldier boy
Germany's little toy
So many of you young and coy
They created courage pills
To give you a thrill
So that you could ****
Just until
The dirt was cleansed
Grease guns
No more fun
British and Germans
Toms and Jerrys
A ration on sherry
Line up girls and boys
Off to the front you go
Some will lose the odd toe
In the Russian snow
Stalingrad
Little ones be glad
Most never to see their sons again
Germany full of sin
Allies for the win
Nuremberg trials for the ****
No more of their party
Sentenced to death
Most still high on ****
15 year old boys
Killed for spying
****** youth
Find the truth
14-18 sent to war
The bullets they tore
Too young to fight
But they had the might
Pride and honor
But the horror
For the warrior
It ended
So many dead
Slaughtered in their beds
We took their wives
And the husbands lives
We failed to see the problem
Was us the Human
So repent for our sins
Even though we took a win
Did anyone really win?
All guilty of some sin
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
I used to crush
lightning bugs on
my face. I thought
I would glow in
the dark.
I don't, although,
my liver has given me
a nice jaundice cast.
Almost Miami tan.
The other night
she
punched me, then called
the cops- blood everywhere.
She went to jail for
five days.
She acted like it was
an eternity.
We ****** last night until
we were raw.
Today, she's a stranger;
self centered and
self absorbed.
I've been drinking Cooking Sherry
to keep from having seizures.
She couldn't care less.
She brought home a
six pack and gave me one
beer.
Oh well,
I knew she was no Iris when
I met her.
I just didn't realize she
was Nightshade.
Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 5:49 PM UTC
I can see my friends' graves;
their names engraved
into unforgiving stone.
the flowers that Sherry's mother
will insist on bordering her date of death
are gaudy, and I can hear
the album Sherry puts on
when she hangs herself,
scratching out a death rattle.
I can see the bear
that mauls Matthew to death.
I can smell the sandwiches
he leaves outside his tent,
I can hear his sleeping breath
and my stomach grumbles
in time with the grizzly's.
Already, if I listen,
I can hear the lack of thought
pervading his comatose head.
at least the bear will finish him off
in a matter of minutes, and the pain
will be so intense that it is barely
pain at all; it's there, it hurts, but then
he's dead. I shake his hand,
I say, "nice to meet you."
he has
a firm grip.
Mike, it isn't you,
it's your heart disease.
And it's not that I'm not attracted to you, Skye,
but watching your entrails pour from a stab wound mid-coitus
kinda kills the mood.
I want to burn both my eyes out, Jenny,
so that I can't sea you drowning anymore.
Karen, I don't really care about you,
or your looming and eventually lethal diagnosis of type 2 diabetes,
so you can go ahead
and put your hands on me.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 3:32 AM UTC
The turkey was a-roasting
The tatties were a-toasting
Have a glass of wine!
…
The brussel’s were a-boiling
The pudding was a-baking
Brandy first, then dine!
…
The crackers we’re a-pulling
The jokes we are a-telling
A tot of port is fine!
…
The carols we are singin’
The presents we are givin’
A wishky? If there’s time!
…
Now on the shofa cuddlin’
Kishin’ and a-shnugglin’
A sherry’sh not a crime!
…
Then we shleep a-dreamin’
In shlumber both a-beamin’
‘til tequila shunrise time!
…
Oct 18, 2009
Oct 18, 2009 at 6:55 AM UTC