by Dr. Rick McGrath, Ph.D.


As you speak slightly of the bottle
it tends to eases the mechanical throttle.
Life’s routine of hard work and play
Causes one to stiffly act day by day.

As the mind loosens ideas begin to flow
Nothing gives me more pleasure I know.
Wet and cold, nothing warms me as well
on stormy days of humid winds and gales.

Life being a mechanical oppression
a need of drink, it’s true my confession.
However, I find great relief from my drink
It all the while helps me better to think.

Drink doesn’t serve me well when I write
and it has never proven wise before a fight.
Should my books make money I will come
to Russia and we will drink, and drink rum.

We will carry on until the royalties are gone
once we are drunk they can toss us on the lawn.
One day my P.P.S. will be found and read
a great many years after I am gone and dead.

By. Dr. Rick McGrath, Ph.D.

Click here to post comments

Join in and write your own page! It's easy to do. How? Simply click here to return to Submit a Poem.


Search Here for Poetry

Click here if you love us! Follow Me on Pinterest