Tried to write a poem that has a rhyming scheme. It’s not really my wheelhouse, but hey, I tried.
and my feet worn in pain,
it’s a cold glass of beer
that is calling my name.
There is comfort in beer
like the hug of a friend
who says, “Take a load off -
let’s pretend to pretend.”
And it works, within minutes
the familiar takes hold.
I relax into memories;
even pain is cajoled.
Beer holds the old memories
of family and friends,
of times spent rejoicing
when joy knows no end.
Oh, but when it’s the brain
or the heart that won’t calm,
it’s bourbon that’s needed -
yes, bourbon’s the balm.
Two fingers will do
when despair starts to wince,
to quiet the ache
of all that’s amiss.
I seek in the darkness
some end to the pain
of a world gone to hell,
spinning on, just the same.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 25 times
Written on 2026-01-20 at 21:03
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Bourbon and Beer
When my body is tiredand my feet worn in pain,
it’s a cold glass of beer
that is calling my name.
There is comfort in beer
like the hug of a friend
who says, “Take a load off -
let’s pretend to pretend.”
And it works, within minutes
the familiar takes hold.
I relax into memories;
even pain is cajoled.
Beer holds the old memories
of family and friends,
of times spent rejoicing
when joy knows no end.
Oh, but when it’s the brain
or the heart that won’t calm,
it’s bourbon that’s needed -
yes, bourbon’s the balm.
Two fingers will do
when despair starts to wince,
to quiet the ache
of all that’s amiss.
I seek in the darkness
some end to the pain
of a world gone to hell,
spinning on, just the same.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 25 times
Written on 2026-01-20 at 21:03
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
Ray Miller |
