Best Vineyard Poems
Your wrists smell of fig sap and October rain
your shoulder blades two furrows turned for seed
your spine the long fence-row the sparrows read
at dusk, each vertebra a sheaf of grain
The vineyard heaves into your windowpane
as roots cleave—slow, below, agreed
and where your collarbone dips, the ripe world feeds
its split apricot, moth-wing, what my palms have gleaned
I turn toward you at the sink, your hair still wet
and lay my ring along the small of your back
the pear boughs laden, the foxes at the run
the creek gone sloe at the farthest bend
what forty years of kneeling cleaves in earnest
one body known, the soul brought into harvest.
======
Summer lay lazily over the land.
The languid weight of wind and water
bowing tree limbs, chasing sand
squalls over sidewalks.
Cyclist meander down aisles
of Rose of Sharon shrubbery past
banks of day lilies and Pez-purple
hydrangeas.
Tourist, colorful as the flowers,
buzz through seaside shops in flip flops
the color of Necco wafers.
Their gummy soles making sucking
sounds upon the linoleum.
In gingerbread slumber like fairy-tale children,
they gather in pink, lime-green, and purple houses.
The poor of a Christian God have become
the rich of a capitalist nation.
They hoard their paper-lantern dream.
You have not yet learned how to scream
Nor shout or yell or call
You have learned how to bottle
Pouring wines from your fingertips
You are a vineyard of emotions
Anger plucked too early from the vine
Is the sourest crop you grow here
But guilt is your most popular flavor
You sell a wine called "The Seven Sins"
You had no idea fermented fear would sell so well
It fills your head with whispers or addicts
But customers love the adrenaline aftertaste
I'd like to buy your vineyard, please
I'd like to burn it to the ground
I'd like to set the "no talking" sign aflame
And I'd like to hear you scream
As your life work falls to ash and smoke
I'd like to hear you scream
Please, I beg, learn how to scream.
vines grow free
the ruins crashed in nature
gray and green
The two rulers were King Ahab and Queen Jezebel
from the city Jezreel, in the land of Israel.
A vineyard owned by another man in the city
became a very coveted piece of property.
This is a plot of ground stationed in propinquity
to the royal couple’s palatial facility.
King Ahab sought a vegetable garden for the land.
He’d pay any price, no matter how great the demand.
The man owning the property was Naboth by name.
He was a prominent subject of Jezreel with fame.
Always a proud man forever loyal to his king,
Naboth declined the king’s great offer for everything.
“I cannot sell the land of my fathers,” he would say.
Therefore, dejected Ahab got up and went away.
Later that night, the king and queen were in the palace.
The king’s presence invoked the queen’s inherent malice.
Queen Jezebel noticed the king’s languid sullenness.
She asked, “Why do you have this sudden unhappiness?”
Ahab told her of the unfortunate happening.
Hearing this made her question the power of the king:
“What you have told me is the most ridiculous thing
The words you have spoken have an unfamiliar ring.
I‘ll show you how it‘s done. I can handle everything!”
She wrote a letter to the officials of Jezreel
told what they had to do, and affixed the king’s seal.
The message told them to place Naboth in position.
Two mendacious accusers in a situation
will remark of Naboth’s unfaithfulness and treason.
Once you do this, before Naboth takes another breath,
all of you shall take him outside, and stone him to death.
With the mission accomplished, the queen received the word.
Here was the brief evil speech of the queen the king heard:
“Naboth is dead my king; I said it would not be hard.
Therefore, go king of Israel and claim your vineyard.”
The prophet Elijah soon appeared before the king,
This man of God conveyed the Lord’s message he did bring.
“Your blood shall be spilled here, and also that of the queen.
Dogs will consume Jezebel, and little will be seen.”
Vigorous, plentiful
vines, diligently pruned
venture trained upon wire,
vast leaves cropped for dolmas.
Valued for complex taste,
vermillion morsels make
vintage wine with patience.
5-4-2021
Pleiades V Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
VINEYARD ROMANCE
A quiet stroll,
Through the windy boulevard.
Hand in hand,
Into Elysian vineyard.
Sunset Vacation.
The golden ingress,
Saw the barefoot entrance.
Sole titillating pulp,
And amorous fragrance.
Exotic Elation.
Sensually creeped,
The studded grapevine,
Into blending embrace.
Defenses dying.
Subtle Seduction
Oblivious to tradition,
That falsifies to savour,
Euphoria of surrender,
To Love's corporeal flavour.
Deliberate Aberration.
Suspended beyond existence,
In our warm abyss.
Time treasured eternally,
In black night's kiss.
Eros' Celebration.
Pallavi Khera
Feb 5, 2010
1:20 am
Let the poor in my vineyard
Gleaning and eating
Even strangers I attest
Come to the harvest
Sweet grapes for the souls
Behold thy
Feast!
© Joseph, 1/3/08
© All Rights Reserved
This religious Epulaeryu is based on Leviticus 19:10 and Deuteronomy 23:24.
The “Epulaeryu” poem is about delicious food and drinks. It consists of seven
lines with thirty-three syllables. The first line has seven syllables, the second line
five, the third line seven, the fourth line five, the fifth line five, the sixth line three,
and the seventh line has only one syllable which ends with an exclamation mark.
Each line has one thought relating to the main course. The Epulaeryu poetic form
syllable count is 7/5/7/5/5/3/1. It has corresponding lines built around the main
course, and concludes with the ending line expressing the writer’s excitement
and feelings about the meal. The Epulaeryu poetic form was invented by Joseph
Spence.
The blueberry vine climbs steadily upon the giant tree
swarming vineyards with thick shrubs and laden branches
succulent berries stacked together in massive vineyards
Feeding the mass and nourishing hungry appetites.
Luscious blueberry vines span all over the land
Filling homes and gardens with enough juice for everyone.
Amidst the heightened heat, blueberries flourished on the street
blooming immensely and absorbing stamina from every corner.
Invigorating breeze filters over high mountains sucking up
Turbulent tensions from within, while irritating sounds
from the boisterous traffic rumbles through the historic town.
What a wonderful time this must have been,
somehow it feels like spring,
green trees blossoming over vast landscapes
while arrogant men with women lap around them
bragging with tempestuous sounds from burnt out muffler
fashioned to attract attention, intimidating birds and beast
disrupting strangers and sleeping neighbors.
Long fancy limousine parade up and down the historic street,
chauffeuring curious passenger dodging behind tinted glass
while scrutinizing bystanders.
Traffic speeding sixty miles per hour in a twenty five miles zone,
defying the traffic rules and forcing others to slow down.
Today felt a little peculiar my heart is romancing in the shadows
the scorching summer heat mingled with winter chills
oozing sweet, penetrating cities and countryside
spilling out fresh air and calming the atmosphere.
The exhilarating blue sky sinks deeply inside
penetrating the globe from side to side
Arousing my innate ambition pointing me to the right direction
I couldn’t help but dance and sing while amusing myself within.
As I looked beyond the thrilling blue sky my heart suddenly came alive
I felt a profound peace flowing from within
And goose pimples proliferated all over my skin.
©2015 Christine Phillips
The chartreuse pearls hung on the pregnant vine
as whispered jade of leaves in autumn breeze.
The necklaces of trellis did entwine
like clefs of absinthe notes in verdant keys.
3/5/18
Original poem: Grape Harvest
10/20/17
Rithium Divisa 2 Contest
Sponsor: Gregory R Barden
The fake isolation of the island insinuated the fostering of remnants;
remnants of religious fervor, close knit seafaring families, and rugged farmers;
remnants of power past and present.
A fog shrouded canvass awaits the onslaught of August revelry.
And, where widows walked the peeks of robber barons manses, the elementals now play.
Tomato red fire trucks ring the seaside green. Throngs of , oh so, polite W.A.S.P.S
and multicultural couples dot the lawn in precise groupings.
The squeal of stroller strapped toddlers echo across ocean
and down alleyways lined with painted ladies
Gay blades and saucy sisters saunter unharassed through the crowds of young families.
Prosperously retirees with salt and pepper hair in pink and green golf shirts line the porches
of the gingerbread homes ringing the green.
In the gazebo a brass band plays John Phillip Souza and closes by belting out
the American anthem, after dark, no flag wave, yet random patriots stand.
Their forms silhouette upon the gray fog like their intentions
mocking the holiday aire with their reminder of war….
those raging on in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan.
and fade with the crowds roar to “Sit down your blocking the view!”
And as the elite, and privileged meet and greet chatting in wonder over the multiple sightings
of airforce one choppers and past President Clinton.
The three times the worlds average wage is spent on FIREWORKS, frivolously,
for the entertainment of the richest citizens of the planet. God Blessed America.
Oh, was there ever a tale of such woe,
a tale of music, lust, and revelry!
Of Juliet and her mad Romeo
when the reggae drums put a spell on me.
In his yen for Herbs and thirst for the vine
Romeo joined the queue full as a tick –
and drank the poison, the sweet feijoa wine
but it was like a mule with twice the kick.
On the grapes of wrath I was a tragic fool,
and I felt that kick of that angry mule.
All I want when I from
this world am gone
is that men say he died with his boots on.
In the hot sun and spinning clouds above
his heart quickened for her underbreath.
Their destiny a cursed forbidden love
and sweet wine a taste of bitter death.
On leaving he rolled flatlining in a ditch -
“I beg you, leave me here…I wanna die!”.
Later with a skinful too numb to twitch
slumped in a bathtub hungover to dry.
On the grapes of wrath I was a tragic fool,
and I felt that kick of that angry mule.
All I want when I from
this world am gone
is that men say he died with his boots on.
Written: July 2008
The vineyard is planted
The grapes are growing
The Master Vintner
Is tending the vine
The grapes are growing
It won’t be too long now
With Christ in the Kingdom
We’ll taste the new wine
It won’t be too long now
The wait will be worth it
The Master Vintner
Is tending the vine
The wait will be worth it
The harvest is coming
With Christ in the Kingdom
We’ll taste the new wine
The harvest is coming
The wait will be worth it
The Master Vintner
Is tending the vine
The wait will be worth it
It won’t be too long now
With Christ in the Kingdom
We’ll taste the new wine
It won’t be too long now
The grapes are growing
The Master Vintner
Is tending the vine
The grapes are growing
The vineyard is planted
With Christ in the Kingdom
We’ll taste the new wine
*Dedicated to all of us who struggle, even in the victory…the wait will be worth it! Matthew 26:29, Mark 14:25, Luke 22:18
She O She
was hungry for love O she
jealously; cutting off for no god damn reason
makes She bleed
dark hair lovely as a horse mane
death is become of her since man's shame
O Beloved!
how wrong of you to cut it off
for its written for she and hymns to be written in songs
ointment can only tell how the walk is far
"should I bake bread by the apple tree
or see a heaven which always loves me?"
The Vineyard of She
We once little in perfect peace,
Your vineyard on a hill.
Existing together you made us free,
A Father’s perfect will.
One day a curious thought crept in,
A foolish notion of strength.
A little idea whose conception was sin,
Gave birth to the wider array.
Soon we were suffocating,
Inhaling a blanket of ash.
A whirlwind of doubt constantly grating,
The thought becoming a mass.
We looked around and realized,
You were no longer here.
Our guilty hearts revitalized,
Controlling us with fear.
Without color and without light,
Only the blind will see.
White is black and black is white,
A dissonant harmony.
Like Babel we rose and fell,
A nation on its knees,
We were scattered beyond the well,
Along the distant seas.
Lessons learned are food for thought,
The past an open book.
Could we've with patience ever sought,
That which corruption took?