Absinthe Poems - Poems about Absinthe

If 'music be the food of love,' as the Avon Bard did write, sing me a song of sixpence for my supper, to see me through this star-crossed night. And there'll be no need to drink to me only with thine eyes, as, for a happy hour or two, a glass of euphoria I will pour for you. A Green Fairy, guaranteed to...

Continue reading...

Psychedelic January 25 I let my mind swim until merely my components gaze longingly past the bottle's content losing self to become defined, etched in glass my hands...

Continue reading...

La Fée Verte, Mistress of Wormwood, High Consort of la Belle Époque, Shimmering with joie de vivre. She’s holding court with bohemian charm, All haute couture with feathers and furs, Promising what fools believe. One spends the night with mademoiselle In bondage to her whims and mercies, Content to be softly chained, Then wakes up nude in the Paris Commune, A subject of interest...

Continue reading...

enough is enough-- seriously how would it not the fog rolling over my eyes over my body this fog that swallows my voice annihilates my being digs deep to my very soul losing the me that i so wish you would want to know want to love lost to the taste of absinthe on my lips AP: Honorable Mention 2023, Honorable Mention 2023 Posted on March 25,...

Continue reading...

Early Poems XIV Am I by Michael R. Burch Am I inconsequential; do I matter not at all? Am I just a snowflake, to sparkle, then to fall? Am I only chaff? Of what use am I? Am I just a feeble flame, to flicker, then to die? Am I inadvertent? For what reason am I here? Am I just a ripple in a pool that once was clear? Am...

Continue reading...

(Up-Tempo Shuffle) VERSE A Each war of personalities Within your crowded soul Reaps a gasp of mystery Anticipated - anticipated ... But just a flash of golden-green One sweetened liquored gaze I'm on a slope that's slippery Intoxicated - intoxicated - oh CHORUS 1 I drink you like a madman - ma-ad-man With cubes of sugar, sugar - sugar, sugar, Baby I'm clouded like a bad man -...

Continue reading...

Color swirl, collision of Light mesmerizes; the fire Incinerates; a dust fade-to-black… Absinthe dreams. ...

Continue reading...

It awakens artists & cures melancholy. Take me away from this dark reality. Numb my sorrows & heal my pain. My wounds will heal, but will I love again? Absinthe releases the "Green Fairy." It has inspired writers like Mary Shelley. Open my third eye to see the mystical. Everyone's dreams should be magical. It creates roles for actors to play. Images of someone...

Continue reading...

In the firmament of trees October's eye looks down in cruel azure on summer's absinthe leaves, flocking like survivors to a mortal haven. Autumn's blood magma creeps through leaves bequeathing fire and brittle amber. Fertile frost breeds in arctic prisms, whispering feral eddas as withering violets echo bitter truth....

Continue reading...

I sauntered in an evening mist A midnight's heaven, magic-kissed Lamp-lit raindrops pattered, awesome Shining city turned violet blossom Enchantments I could ne'er resist. Adrift upon the Paris, proper ...

Continue reading...

the bass, the treble, the high, high hat, rat a tat tat, throb and pull, a mad, mad pulse, match the slow pour of a sloe gin, and I never clap for the rude crescendo of her tin ear and his last call......

Continue reading...

From a broken Heart, does one recover: To know you will always love the other? When discarded like trash, far too late, alas! You soon discover you long for that Lover?...

Continue reading...

Drinking absinthe the color green, snuck from Ireland in a bag unseen. Dreams of faeries in my green bean patch, chasing leprechauns I never can catch. Into a cave, where St. Patrick sat, on a rock, stroking an old fuzzy cat. "What's up, Pat!" I said with a slur. "You know" He said "Drink is not your cure." "Well, Pat." I slurred....

Continue reading...

I was a non-believer in exodus of nothingness. Here you are, I am. In crimson sky talking of nobody, unbuttoning the moon. Fill up my glass with tears of joy. And sleep I must in the arms of sorrow. There was a shipwreck in absence while chasing the eyes. Satish Verma...

Continue reading...

honoring Rimbaud's birthday ... for some, the wormwood of unholiness is the only sacrament known, the ecstasy of wickedness their hymn, their prayer, their psalm, and the thunder-crashes aren't from hell alone but a realm of madness known as god thrashing about in gleeful drunkenness and sudden epiphany of birth, virgin in shimmering, ravishing darkness, forever - ever, and amen......

Continue reading...