Gone but not Forgotten


They used to brew beer here,
The brewery gates never seemed to shut.
All day the best grain and hops went in
And beer that made the mouth water came out.
I remember glorious clouds, with a hoppy scent
Settling gently on my estate.
“It’s brewing day,” my dad would always say,
As my senses tingled on the way to the bus stop.

Sadly the tuns and coppers are now empty
The once busy floors are now quiet,
Except for the mice and cats.
All has been left to rot and rust,
Because they used to brew beer here.
But now the gates are never open,
They still make it elsewhere under licence
I don’t think it tastes the same.

 

Dedicated to Highgate Brewery.

Monologue


Regret?


regret-words

I’m sitting in the pub corner,
Comfy in my favourite seat.
Raising my glass half-heartedly,
To all the friends I used to meet.

I’m drinking to your memory,
I’m drinking to regret.
I’m drinking to your health,
I’m drinking to forget.

I wonder if you’re close now?
In a room across the road.
Or are your living far away,
On the other side of the globe.

I could see if you are on Facebook,
I could send you a tweet.
Maybe if I looked hard I might
Spot your face in the street.

But no I stay in the pub corner,
Happily nursing my beer.
And if I think I see you passing,
I’ll not raise my glass in cheers.

You see I’ve found I don’t miss you,
I really don’t give a toss.
That we’re no longer friends,
It’s my gain and your loss.

So please keep your distance,
Stay away, stay in my past.
Cos I’ll stop thinking about you,
When I reach the bottom of my glass.

 

Taken from Diverse Verse a poetry anthology I compiled and being sold to raise money for charity.

An Observation about the Modern City Centre Public House.


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The pub sign out front welcomes all to come inside
For breakfast, brunch or lunch, served anytime.
Or how about an Italian, Chinese or spicy curry
While you read the paper or watch plasma TV.
We’ve got games, books and quizzes to pass the time
Cola, milk or fruit shoots to placate your child.

We offer a generous frequent or a casual visitor discount
Use our Wi-Fi to log in and like us on our Facebook account.

Why not try a mocha, cappuccino or expresso
Or freshly brewed tea available to drink in or to go.
But there’s one thing missing from the menu
And if you ask for it the reply will go
“What’s that you want sir, oh how very weird
I’m afraid there’s never been a need for us to serve beer.”

Jottings from my note book, day 2


Todays jotting is part two of my never finished plan to write a book entirely in poetic verse form called ” the well oiled robot bar,” ( part one can be found here.) The story was going to be similar to Hitch-hikers guide to the galaxy but with more drinking and this section was called, ” hyperspace lager “.

Raise your glass of lager slowly
Let it linger before your eyes.
Admire your drink’s golden shine
That’s better than any planet rise.
You’re now ready to drink
McGuirk’s galaxy famous lager.
Enjoy it you’ve earnt it
But before you go any further.
There’s a few things to tell you
With some forms to sign right now.
It’s just small print but could you
Jot down your blood type as well?
Ok let’s start the questions
Don’t touch that lager just yet.
As depending on your answers
It could be a drink you regret.
Now are you from the planet Rigel?
No, well it’s not hard to tell.
Anyway Rigelians can’t drink lager
As it can cause their fins to swell!
Are you from a parallel universe?
It’s important that I know.
As lager will just makes you sober
Then it might make your head explode.
We’ll skip the other questions
There’s a hundred if that.
Let’s get to the important stuff
Before your beer goes flat.
Please sign here, here and here
Then download a copy of your will.
Pose for your grave’s hologram
Now take this small blue pill.
You want to know what the pill’s for
Ok I’ll tell you just don’t shout.
It stops intergalactic body snatchers
Cloning you if you happen to pass out.
Oh you don’t want your lager now
You say you don’t fancy the taste.
Well just leave it there my friend
I’ll see it doesn’t go to waste.

 

I’m Going on a Beer Hunt


Last night before she went to sleep I read my daughter the excellent children’s poem
We’re going on a bear hunt, ” by Michael Rosen and Helen Oxenbury.

After my daughter had fallen asleep I found the words of the poem were still going round in my head then before I knew what was happening I had started to write the following parody.

I’m going on a beer hunt
I’m going to drink a big one
What a beautiful day
Let’s get drunk.

Uh-oh a queue
A queue at the bar
I can’t go round it
I can’t go under it
I’ll have to go through it.

Push, shove, push shove, push shove.

I’m going on a beer hunt
I’m going to drink a big one
What a beautiful day
Let’s get drunk.

Uh-oh the pubs crowded
The pubs very crowded
I can’t stand here
I can’t stand there
I’ll have to go to the beer garden.

Balance glass, negotiate door, balance glass, negotiate door.

I’m going on a beer hunt
I’m going to drink a big one
What a beautiful day
Let’s get drunk.

Uh-oh wasps
Nasty little wasps.
I can’t go round them
I can’t go through them
I’ll have to be violent to them.

Ineffectual swat, ineffectual swat

I’m going on a beer hunt
I’m going to drink a big one
What a beautiful day
Let’s get drunk.

Uh-oh rain
It’s stating to rain.
I can’t go round it
I can’t go though it
I’ll have to just wait for it to stop.

Get wet, get wetter, get wet, get wetter.

I’m going on a beer hunt
I’m going to drink a big one
What a beautiful day
Let’s get drunk.

Uh-oh my glass is empty
I’ll have to go to the bar,

Back through the rain, get wet, get wetter.
Back through the wasps, ineffectual swat, ineffectual swat.
Back through the pub door, Balance glass, negotiate door, balance glass negotiate door.
Back through the queue, push, shove, push,shove

Pay for pint
Notice time
Down pint in one
Run for bus
Travel home while
Fighting urge to urinate.

I’m never going on a beer hunt again.
Until tomorrow

Pork Scratchings day 2 – a haiku.


Ok this is probably the worst theme ever but I have had a small bit of positive feedback for my pork scratching poem so I have decided to inflict another on you, this time in haiku. While I am semi aware of the rules of haiku poetry this one might not follow them to the letter.

If after all this blathering you are interested in making pork scratchings click here.

Salted cubed pork skin
Tenderly oven roasted.

Perfect with cold beer.

An Over the Top Ode to Pork Scratchings.


Pork scratchings are to me the best pub snack in the world there is something about their over salted crunchiness that makes them perfect with beer.

As a long time lover of this food I decided I would today use my blog page to shout their praises from the roof tops, if after reading you would like to know more about pork scratchings please click  here.

Oh you salty beauty hiding in your crinkly shell,
Opened as eagerly as the oyster catcher tackles his prize.
But unlike your cousin of the briny deep,
You always hold porcine pearls of perfection.

Like the unexpected splash of a wilful wave,
Your sodium tang hits my mouth and taste buds.
Before my teeth encounter with rapture,
Your crunchy crust of corrugated chewiness.

Egg Mayo and Bacon Bits in a White Baguette.


An ode to my favourite hangover cure.

Egg mayo and bacon bits
Hungry lips are licked.
Egg mayo and bacon bits
Perfect accompanied by chips.
Egg mayo and bacon bits
A moment in the mouth, a lifetime on the hips.

My Hangover is a W.M.D.


 

 

My hangover is a W.M.D.
Threatening my bowels
And my stomach
With a chemical attack.

The United Nations of coffee
Fail to defuse the threat.
Despite the sacrifice of
A brave granola flapjack.

Operation Dr Pepper is launched
A sugar counter attack.
While a bacon sandwich
Leads a diversionary raid.

This gets off to a slow start
Until a red sauce sachet
Arrives to reinforce
The brave bacon battalion.

Fighting is fierce but brief
The W.M.D. is neutralized
And final resistance quelled
With an alka-seltzer carpet bombing.