Wine Poems | Examples of Wine Poetry

Empty work resists an empty home Too much to bear without clinking bottles Swaying in a plastic bag like seasick genies Empty life finding harbor in emptiness Even if it’s something to feel guilty again It’s like welcoming Legions for guests Something to keep depression company Keep them occupied, let them kill the hours The hours are Prometheus dripping red Why does my...

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No pease porridge for me if you please neither hot nor cold especially not if what's in the pot is nine days old for when in Parma Palermo or Pisa (no pottage slop) I'm predisposed and have the propensity to pour a potent potable (pink plonk) and prefer to partake of a piece of pepperoni pizza with pancetta pomodoro peperoncini porcini plus a peck of pecorino...

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You are such a tool go back to school they yelled at him without hindsight You got nothing between your ears pack it up Joe, walk only by night He took his thermos and left for Rome feeling like a dumbass, quite stupid When he got there, two arms alone greeted him, ...

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As happiness now, Johnson thunk, Requires that a fellow be drunk, Pursuing the happy, A literate chappy, So happy became that he stunk....

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Jack handed Julie a box of chocolates and launched into a...

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Lost in haze of her dusky eyes My senses all overpowered Nudging me for more bright hours Of quiet, sparkling connections; Part of wine's bubbly enticement. Contest of nette onclaud : Abecedarian ...

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Aristotle, doth he opine, That parrots grow saucy with wine. I can't help but think He drove it to drink, The source of its moral decline....

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Down here on Ruby Lane Sitting looking at the rain Looking at my glass of red Thinking what I haven’t said If through negligence some changes Shuffle here with rearrangements Nothing’s changed its all the same Changes die on Ruby Lane From the dullest land of mad I have come to get some bread And some wine I need to take Just to have a...

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Many mountains, seas, women, and dollars made But for you only was each moment played An aged wine flask, your decrepit skin cracks As flaccid muscles bend your creaking back Hard hammer toes hamper your stiff walking style Toilet king, bilious bombard of bile Fog obscures your mind, only to rise again Wishing for many things which might have been Stung as by...

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I do enjoy imbibing a vintage libation now and again (and again, and again) but when I thought I'd bought the best bottle of Bordeaux money can buy, then looked at the label on the back, before pulling the cork, I nearly had a heart attack. 'Characterised by a great body,' it stated, 'velvety cedar and hazelnut texture,' but my taste buds went...

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Cheese Cake and Wine We could go out sometime. We could drink some red wine. Enjoy a pleasant evening in the moonlight. You have always been so kind. Wine and cheesecake would be great. Hope it’s not too late. We could go out around eight. We could make wonderful memories. With flavor and creativity. It...

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A lunar luster spills a silvershine cascade of nebulating moonshine lilt onto a night-time field, drawing a quilt of pale radiance over the still vine. A myriad of glowing serpentine twines sleep.—but, slithering round its stout stilt, a wakeless plant is working out its tilt.— It’s fruit will not be ripe enough for wine. So see I, amidst the flourishing grape, the withering...

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Sweet Peach Wine In the valleys where prayer flags dance, And clouds kiss Himalayan glance, I found a bottle, soft and fine, Of Bhutan’s sweet peach-scented wine. It tasted like a lover’s sigh, A summer dusk, a blushing sky, With every sip, your name would bloom, A floral echo through the room. The amber liquid, slow and deep, Unveils the dreams we dare to...

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Laughter and love Light hearted yet serious A touch and a smile Oops a little wine spilled A rush and an experience Here, take a bite The music all around us And yet we're alone Laughter and love Lighthearted yet serious We walk hand in hand A story untold I'll love you forever And ever and ever Time stands still for us and Oops a little wine spilled ...

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Painting with words The ash in the wood burner is still warm white and esoteric an unborn dream a sin to shovel into a sink bucket when it looks holy and ought to be strewn upon the tranquil sea with the first drop of rain the ash in the bucket a dust cloud disperse like souls in the forest but,...

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