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Problem Child
Barley and hops acquainted, meet,
__And yeast completes the marriage.
Soon happy news as something brews
__With keg for baby carriage.
Where he appears good cheer is found;
__When gone, he’s always missed.
However with time and on the ground,
__You’ll find him properly pissed.
The loud who know him always fight,
__The quiet who know him cry,
Those who love him day and night
__Cover shame with lies.
As heated fruit within a crust
__And lust for food makes pie,
The child within a bottle must
__Be poured out, swallowed dry.
You may demand that he be caught,
__Require his death and excise;
Grievance against him is for naught,
__This child of grain will rise.
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Frank Rable is a poet living in Pennsylvania.
Cleverly creative words enhanced by the perfect title. I might have used “stews” to complete the first line and make the perfect rhyme.
“Stews” can’t be used because it means “a neighborhood of brothels and prostitutes.” If “stew” is used as a verb, it would have to be as the plural form “stew” to agree with the plural phrase “barley and hops.”
I agree that the title is perfect. It establishes the basic conceit of the poem — that is, a keg of beer as a baby.
Dr. Salemi, then “fuse” would work.
Frank, what is meant by “swallowed dry”?
Let the first line stand. Line 3’s internal rhyme would hit too hard if Line 1 ended with “fuse” or “stews.”
Hello, and thank you, Mary.
“swallowed dry” I wanted to say that some people become so consumed with alcohol that they feel the need to consume all the alcohol within their grasp. I will admit to an amateur (but eager!) talent for poetry, so each of your comments teaches me something and further encourages me. Thanks to all who read my poem and were prompted to comment.
Clever and so well done!
Third stanza is especially well done, Frank, because drinkers similarly become problem children once acquainted with the prototypical problem child.
Thank you Margaret. My opinion is that some drinkers, not all, are problem drinkers.There are those who have a single drink on on their birthday and on New Years eve. Others who consume an entire case of beer over a weekend in front of the TV. And the not so uncommon man who wakes up hung over in his 2000 pound SUV in a ditch with his wife killed and children crying. And there are the long term diseases of the liver, kidneys, bladder, heart, and brain. Contrast this with folks in the 18th century who lived mostly dull lives that were already shorter, with only alcohol providing pain relief. In my poem, I stayed with a pre industrial age viewpoint in order. to have fun with words, and avoid a cautionary tale, which would crush my beer as child conceit.
Understood, Frank. Many have to love him, at least a little bit–and you don’t claim to catalogue his occasional friends.