Best Wine Poems
At a table in a garden, on a soft, sweet, summer's night
Two friends are sitting talking by the moon's reflected light.
On the table in the garden there are glasses but no drink
And the friends are sitting talking, but they often stop to think.
The topics that they cover seem to range so far and wide
And the glasses sit there empty, since they left the drink inside.
The night is getting cooler but the friends stay close and warm,
The moon just looks down calmly, she has magic to perform.
As he leans across to kiss her, and she kisses him as well,
The friendship starts to blossom into something more to tell.
The tension in the garden needs assistance to decline
So the silver crescent of the moon leans down to pour white wine.
The easel beholds a half finishing painting
The paints beside have all hardened
Pain reflected in the partial emptiness
Staring back at that gathered crowd
The sun melts on the canvas page
Creation explained in elapsed rage
Notions and pleas from dried paintbrushes
Strewn across the almost barren floor
One to the other in whispered voice
I wonder if this would have been his choice?
Empty wine bottles twirling in light
Beside the dead body, a painting just right
There lies Art
In repose
His final painting
His last prose
Loves promenades towards emptiness
longing is a void
darkness of a million universes
where mythical black holes
chant of timeless desires
Yearning for carnal eternity
where candles never die
Two of us
never met
oceans apart
gasping for affections
in different times
winds may have swept
this way or that
never seen
Wind and candle lie in death
so lost
in emptiness
My confession
I murdered them all
impostors
claims of poetic devices
when the evidence was only
rants piled upon rants
A circle of praises
made the courts dizzy
the frauds committed
only added to their notoriety
under oath
all their poems shattered
The judge looked me in the eye
how do you plead sir
"Guilty as charged your honour"
I here by then sentence you to 19 days
you must pay for each crime
one day for each scoundrel exposed
No one wants to be left on the shelf for years
Guess you could say I’ve popped my cork
Now I’m fully mature with a rich full body
I could be described as a little fruity with a hint of spice
Please don’t keep me bottled up
Just give me time to breathe
Contest :- A wine Connoisseur
Sponsor: Chase Trevi
08~14~15
Indigo ink dreams
Dripping from heart
Tattoos tongue with kinetic kiss
Green electric buzz like sip
Of fine blueberry wine so sweet
Dreamy turquoise love touch
Filling me up with red desire
On fire for your romantic antic
Sweeping me off my feet
Carrying me with ease
Of a blue breeze to deserted love island
Where tan sands caress like brown hands
White waters flow warm and toasty
Fast slow then in closing cold
Never let go of this love
For it floats like a boat
I gaze at those fireflies in
your butter-sweet eyes that shine,
succulent with white lush pulp
of love's purity,
you hue my wildflower heart
with hyacinth, as we twirl
like spring-shaded tulips in
life's regal-black psalms;
mon cherie, I wish for stars
to sequin your shimmering
wine soul and cradle comets
of faith in your fate,
as, rubies glazed with honeyed
hibiscus and nectarine
daisies will be my pink muse,
forevermore true;
afterlife shall foretell our
lavender soliloquy
of celeste romance, whipped in
soft beige affection,
and your coral spirit will
eternally emphasise
cherry letters as tokens
of swan-shaped twin flames.
Hold it; let it breathe; it grows better with time.
Ignoring its colors is a crime!
Sniff and swirl it for a sign.
Inhale. Sip. Divine!
Slurp! Savor
wine.
The flavor
that comes from YOUR vine
is more enhanced when you dine -
finding balance. Life can be sublime!
Hold it; let it breathe; it grows better with time.
Poetry Form: An Andaree
written for Chase Trevi's "a wine connoisseur" poetry contest
Alone, in Paris
The flowers sing
Le jardin du Luxembourg
I look at all the pretty ladies
Which one of them pray tell
Is you
The one who wishes for that sweet caress
The one whose painting hangs on the wall
The one who knows beauty runs deeper
Than a river running to kiss the oceans swell
The grandest of castles with candles dim
There in the damp night would bonds begin
If only you would listen to my whispers deep
Forgiving the scars I have suffered
As in the night I have wept
Napoleon marched forth across great lands
I the knight have lesser demands
If only you, whoever you are
Would take hold of me
As we dance away our eternities
Sur le pont de Avignon
Where the river flows
Like poetry
One day, perhaps if I could spend the night,
I would stack your hearth with firewood,
and we would sit together on your couch,
you, your feet tucked under you,
your head against my chest,
while I would hold you close
and breathe that faint and lovely fragrance of your hair.
And we could dine on pizza and red wine,
in the softly glowing firelight.
One day, perhaps, if I could spend the night.
One day, perhaps if I could spend the night,
there would be no haste,
no urgency in either of our lives,
and we could have another glass of wine,
while speaking soberly
of matters sombre,
if we felt that way inclined.
Or,
we would have that other glass of wine and laugh at matters impolite.
One day, perhaps, if I could spend the night.
One day, perhaps if I could spend the night,
when we were ready we would go to bed
and kiss
and make unhurried love.
Or,
equally unhurried, we would not.
And we would listen to the wind and rain
and kiss and make unhurried love again.
Or,
equally unhurried, we would not.
Then we would sleep,
egg and spoon together.
With each of us at peace.
And everything, in both our worlds, would be just right.
One day,
perhaps,
if I could spend the night.
He pops the cork from vintage vine,
then bubbles dance in scarlet wine
I look his way, his eyes find mine
The stars align, the stars align!
He pours the glass, and as it tips
one drop remains there, as I sip
I leave for him upon my lips
My heartbeat skips, my heartbeat skips!
The wine my lips had not yet met
becomes a bliss, I'll not forget
A kiss that tastes of sweet claret
Not one regret, not one regret
________________________________
Inspired by the Contest: Monetetra
Sponsored by Kim Merryman 6/26/13
In the debate between accessible and difficult poems
Poets' poems and poems for people
Only the single poem and private reader matter
Both kinds and anything between can matter or not
Solid or made of air, a vase or heavy clay ashtray
One word repeated or many like a lei
An acquired taste, like wine, and like wine
Not sustenance, yet men die with their miseries
Uncut without it, news and mere matter
I advise everyone to keep a personal anthology of poems that matter
Or not. Perhaps it should be novels. Stones, insect wings,
Feathers, Birds you've seen, People loved.
Imagination nude
liquored and lacquered lips
ember-breathing phoenix
..lighter fluid magic
when let loose near a flame..
combustible thigh-highs
when moonshine-high is nigh—
the moon she bathes in dreams
I have you both in hand
my tongue slick and sleek seeks
to taste the fruits of fields
intoxicated snake
oh! my lust a slither
a quiver serpentine
squeeze innocence with sins
revive the withered vine
anthurium’s shield leaf
your phallic sword unsheathed
exotic frolic fire
in heart-shaped bloom I burn
fire-water-pulse untamed
grabbed by the mane restrained
—unrestrained dreams unleashed
tequila genie free
sassy-frassy lassie
a parasol in pink
frilly and unfolded
beholder beholden
to climb aboard and fly
feminine flamingo
through shaken sky uncorked—
liquid-libido rains
as thirst and thunder reigns
just drop the reins and ride
bridal sweet bridle free
yah barefoot and bareback
yes! drain the bottle dry
free way ticket three way
trifecta perfecta
primal energies spoon
la belle ‘Bianca’ blanc—
wine-skinned mademoiselle
Divine wine…
Pleasantness is within me, I need more of that wine.
What a night I hope it be, I need more of that wine.
You are me and I'm you, till my last day loving you.
I am us and you are we, I need more of that wine.
Like a candle in my night, break the darkness from my sight,
Shine at me until I see, I need more of that wine.
I’ll rub my lips to your lips; my pain will be all gone,
Let’s break our cage, and go free; I need more of that wine.
Blissfulness is around us; seek it from within you,
Come and find the hidden key, I need more of that wine.
Wingless flying is unwise, sit down, watch the sunrise.
Laughing crying grief and glee, I need more of that wine.
You left a trail for "Haloo", he found you with no clue.
He knows the way and told me, I need more of that wine.
10/22/2019 Haloo
Note: Note: This poem is in the form of "Ghazal" with 13 syllables. The rhyming in Ghazal ends with AA bA cA dA eA etc. It comes in two different forms with and without refrain. The refrain in this poem is, “ I need more of that wine”. (Poetrysoup has a great explanation for this form of poetry).
Musty antiquity
within.
Spice inside
a cauldron
of ripe reason.
Five months
unshelved
brewing boiling
now the suave coolness,
animals don’t know
how to simmer their lovebroth
like this.
Only the Titan breath, what they desired remained.
The world was dark, centralised
spherical
the centre imposed
upon her perfect
cheekbones
his horned chest
woolen jumper swollen with clues
breasts rising like meringues in a brick oven
on her lips hung her whole life
he extracted from her lips
what he knew she was
dying to give.
Ambience, randomosity, the
haze of a lantern
stage-lit movement in dust
eyes swivelled, bottles made
their pleas to be known
wise ancestral spirits
The gallery browsed.
Time stuck
between the molars.
Abandoned corner;
hazelnut liquer, pomegranate
blood and something else.
They sat on the ground
with this raspberry wine
and sipped each other
profoundly, irrevocably.
She, mineral rich
rivulets of stone-clean water,
soft aquamarine. He, present
like limestone
crumbling to a silent past,
frictitious, only lovers perch
on the cracked mantle
of reality like this,
only they hear the moment's plea
for recognition.
Copyright. 2009.