16 June 2007

16June -Four Poems for our new Beers

Sonnet for the J.K. Scrumpy's Hard Cider
6% alc/vol - 22oz
Michigan, USA

What makes this cider charm this drinker's heart?
What qualities could this one beer possess
that make it shine- that set this one apart?
Just what could make its memory caress?

Is it the fact that just two things go in?
Just yeast and apple fill this bottle's chest
so when I taste the fresh delight within
it pains me that my joy goes unexpressed.

Oh, sparkling farmhouse cider that is hard;
to drink you takes me to a different place.
To crisp, autumnal evenings so be-starred
and lips on necks and passionate embrace.

I enjoy this beverage to its appley core.
To drink another cider now would be a bore.


Sonnet for the Delirium Tremens
8.5% alc/vol
(served in an aroma concentrating glass)

What Belgian delectation have we here?
This brew - so full, but can it fill my heart?
Perhaps it's foolish now to hope this beer
can mend that which your absence tears apart.

Just what are those aromas that I sniffed?
Mm. Yes, I know I've smelled those notes before.
Banana yeasty undertones uplift
my soul that dragged and scraped upon the floor.

This satisfying finish: oh, how smooth.
Good things that end should always end like this.
This beer that thrills- it, too, knows how to soothe;
a feeling missing from your parting kiss.

If life insists our love must be no more
at least I have this beer that I can pour.


Rondeau for the Samichlaus
14% alc/vol
(served in an aroma concentrating glass)

The Samichlaus is quite a brew.
It was, 'til now, a sales taboo.
Fourteen percent is alcohol,
(the fact, alone, has me in thrall)
and beers this strength are overdue.

It's strong and malty, very true
but this exceeds all beers I knew
for almost brandy-like I'd call
The Samichlaus.

It's gently warming. Creamy, too.
Sweet's a term I might pursue
but nothing cloying, not at all.
And years from now you will recall
the beer that few are equal to:
The Samichlaus.


Villanelle for the Mackeson Triple Stout
US (British recipe and brewed under British supervision)

The world can change in just a blink.
It did for me when I first tried
the Mackeson I love to drink.

So easily my coins do clink
now that I spend my dough in stride
for that rich stout that pours like ink.

How all its flavors work in sync.
Such malt and cocoa thrive inside
the Mackeson I love to drink.

From civilized to missing link
this beer appeals both far and wide.
It is our armor's dreaded chink.

Should I nod off and catch a wink
and dream that no-one could provide
the Mackeson I love to drink

I'd dream I'd put up quite a stink.
I know should sense and want collide
that in my tummy I would sink
the Mackeson I love to drink.

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