Short Porters Poems

pen and pint in hand
four porters in and counting
might be all she wrote

Michael F. Lewis
7/17/2013...

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When Livingstone got back to quarters
It was time to pay off his porters
His account was in London, no branch was nearer
So each man got a check made out to bearer...

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On the fifth floor, and on the narrow staircases,
Porters raised the piano with angry red faces.
"My friends - you seems to like a light music?" -
Somebody asked them. The porters bruised him!...

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Monday nights
Are India pale ale,
Tuesdays
Stouts & porters.

Then comes
Whiskey Wednesday
& seven –
Tawny death
In slow sips.

You wonder
How it comes:
Sudden
Moonshine, 
Stinging & harsh

Or in Canadian mists,
Buffalo traces, wild
Turkeys
Feral as forests

Or soft & rummy-- 
An easy sweet
Slipping to nothingness,
The last liqueurs
Liquid as eyes
Seeping silently
Through rye rivers
Rapidly rushing
Toward night....

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You can tell our almighty creator
I’m her biggest winter hater 
Turn up the heat, turn on the radiator
I’m leaving the north sooner than later
Taking my wife and my daughters
Way down south to clearer waters
Going to stay a while at the Latin Quarters
Sipping on wine and tavern porters
Spending our days shopping and prancing
Relaxing at night dining and dancing
And when the vacation comes to an end
We’ll make sure next year we’ll do it again...

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