The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Still Home

deep in the solace of mind
beyond, the realm assigned
an outer reach of body,
of kind

she drew me in
to a inconsiderable space
that i didn't even know
could evolve or exist

the time was ripe
the taste pure bliss

I could smell all the fragrant flowers
held taut, together in one place
not dying nor withering away
in some discolored, discontented
hollow filled vase

it was vibrance
it was pure grace
more than grasping for a longing
or an impossible embrace

we held tight in the scars we both shared
dancing through the meadows
where ghosts once appeared

we were the sun and we kissed the dark
enriched in the touch of another
leaving our mark

your echo still rattles my bones
your presence I still call my home
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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Romios Avatar
September 26, 2022 at 4:14 PM
I may be weird, TS, but I see no exorcist needed for this poem.))) I think it has depth and quite touching. Write me, f I am dense, please! Thank you… I get tired of life is perfect poems. This, thankfully was not one of them. Panagiota xx
Horsman Avatar
May 8, 2022 at 5:52 AM
Dark and mysterious, yet a wonderful awe that lingers in every word.
Labyrinth Avatar
January 23, 2022 at 11:07 PM
I am intrigued. What inspired you to write this ode? Your poems certainly fit the Romance genre perfectly...she must have been one heck of a haunting ghost. Perhaps an exorcism is required. I shall keep an eye out, of course not the all-seeing eye, or the evil eye for future quillings.
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The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace