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Best Wine Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Wine poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of wine poems written by PoetrySoup members

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The Best Wine Poems

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An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and 
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of 
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field 
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community 
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound 
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the 
evening to be appropriate for the purpose. 
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical 
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that 
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the 
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by 
our café.

When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.

Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009

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A Question of Love

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

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018

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There Lies Art

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

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017

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May I Caress Your Heart

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

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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One Day if I Could Spend The Night

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. 
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. 
equally unhurried, we would not. 
And we would listen to the wind and rain 
and kiss and make unhurried love again. 
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, 
if I could spend the night. 

Copyright © Red OMara | Year Posted 2013

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Life Like Tasting Wine

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

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

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Sweeter Than Wine

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

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

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Can poetry matter

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.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

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Call me, Call me


If their is one breathing angel left in the universe
I do plead
Tell the gal to call me

If she has a heart, even of coal
Let me be the furnace
To burn her passions

If she doesn’t care
Let me care for both
Let the clouds carry us away

If I am a fool 
Let me dream
Of a magical time and place

When I listened to her sweet beautiful grace
Her voice the melody
Of my fantasy

Let me be
Let my love free
Call me and whisper to me

Sweet nothings

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

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The Wine of Life

    The past has 
flown out the window
   The present is full of sorrow
   Look to the future 
for a taste of the  
   sweet wine of life 
Your tears will change to laughter
  if you focus on what is to come
Tomorrow - looming ahead like 
    a bright shining star
is something we should never
    lose sight of 
Let the dance begin!
   Let the songs be sung!
Let the wine of life 
   be poured 
         into gorgeous goblets of 
purest gold!

Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2012

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The Connoisseur

He was a connoisseur of beauty
But not of the usual kind
He could see the beauty within
Which all the others could not find

When he gazed upon a woman
He saw the sparkle of her soul
With his sweet and knowing smile
All her virtues he would extol

His eyes drank in the loveliness
That she'd cloistered within her heart
with words dipped in affirmation
he painted her: a work of art

He saw the aura of beauty
That shone brightly around her face
In each line of her full body
Sheer luxuriance he could trace

The connoisseur was an expert
At making her feel divine
In her ear he gently whispered
what made her exquisite, fine

When he had drunk in her beauty
He held on to the shapely glass
In his mouth her textured fullness
His rating? Certainly, first class!

The bottle that she had come in
was now trembling in his grip
And craving just a little more
Tilted the bottle to his lip

He licked the luscious last drop
Inebriated by her taste
A connoisseur of real beauty
he would let nothing go to waste

And so once more she was poured out
To the connoisseur of her soul
She gave him what he desired
the wine of love had made them whole

For Chase's the Connoisseur Contest

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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Red wine

Seduced by red wine merlot can be most divine showering blessings

Copyright © Gabriel Sundman | Year Posted 2016

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Why Dot Won't LeAve the Farm

Dot Blogs she was a buxom lass and hefty heifer too
who married Bobby Eugene Blows when she was twenty- two.
They lived upon a dairy farm alongside Boggy Creek
and milked  a hundred fresian cows … yes seven days a week.

Now Dotty took to motherhood and had some eighteen kids
and Bobby too was very fond of all his billy lids.
Though life was using hand me downs from hats to underwear,
it taught them old world values; like the gift of how to share.

Dot seldom ventured from the place and trips to town were rare
as she’d become content with life and simple country fare.
But Bob, in a romantic mood, applied his boyish charm
and thought he’d hit the city and get Dotty off the farm.

Their anniversary was due and Bob now thought it time
to hit the big smoke for a change were they could wine and dine.
Well Dot had dressed up to the nines and looked a proper treat,
but how to fit her in the ute had poor Rob kind of beat.

Poor Dot was three axe handles when one measured ’cross her rump
and putting things politely she was rather flamin’ plump.
But Dot she was a country girl and just jumped in the back
and soon both her and husband Rob were heading down the track.

The cities razzle dazzle blew both Dot and Rob away
and headed for the classy place where they were gonna stay.
But when Dot hit the doorway well she then ran out of luck,
as she was jammed there tightly and evidently stuck. 

The chaps behind the service desk and three bell boys as well
they tried to push poor Dotty free but Robby knew darn well
that Dottie’s hefty hips were simply wedged in there too tight
and going out to wine and dine was now in doubt that night.

Just then a bell boy cried out loud, “I have a plan for sure.
I’ll grab the local rugby team that’s dining right next door.”
The forwards packed behind poor Dot and gave it all they had,
but all they did was stir her up and she was getting mad.

Then Rob remembered once back home how Bert the bull was jammed
real tight inside the race they had and how they fin’lly planned
to rub his hips with lots of grease and on the count of three
they’d hit him with a jigger and you’re right … he busted free.

The Motel staff then whipped around and searched each patron’s bag
and grabbed all sorts of greasy stuff their little hands could snag.
Rob rubbed old Dottie’s hips all down and laid it on real thick,
then grabbed the night guards stun gun;  it was sure to do the trick.

Poor Dot she kicked and bellowed when the voltage hit her hide
and man she cut some capers and she went all goggle eyed.
She snorted and she struggled like some poor wild frightened beast,
but just like Bert, Rob did admit, she busted free at least.

Now Dot is back at Boggy Creek and though poor Rob tries hard
she won’t budge from the Dairy farm; she just won’t budge a yard.
Poor Rob now does the shopping and the thing he finds bizarre
Is rubbing Dot down  ev’ry night where two prongs left a scar.

©Bush Poet and Balladeer -  Merv Webster	

Copyright © Merv Webster | Year Posted 2013

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The Party

The host was the most, an elegant man,
Who throws great parties like no one else can.
All were dressed to the nines for a special affair,
While men peeked at bosoms and tried not to stare.

The gathering together of local folks,
Were sitting and telling some witty jokes;
While ladies who came dressed in the latest style,
Vied with each other for a gentleman’s smile.

Candles were lit, the music played low,
The table was set in perfection’s glow;
With goblets of wine and bone china plates,
That defined the mind with earnest debates.

The fragrance of food that smelled so fine,
Was delivered with bottles of sweet scented wine;
And great steaming bowls of chicken soup,
Were served in style with a sterling silver scoop.

Roast beef with gravy was served with care,
With mashed potatoes and all the fanfare.
There were squash, carrots and dishes of beans,
And bowls of crisp chopped salad greens.

There was wine to sip and coffee to drink,
There was so much to eat, no one could think;
There was cake to splurge and gin to purge,
And all who ate quickly lost the urge.

The hours ticked by with buttons undone,
That belied the gourmet from having fun;
 For lessons they learned were simple and few,
A waist filled with haste is hard to undo.



Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011

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Unburden my life of desolation
the weight on my shoulders too heavy.
Can somebody please lighten my load
I am clearly needy and ready. 

All my life never asked a soul
To really help me out
I got by inch by inch
by being gracious with no shout

There is a point when somebody breaks
no human is made of steel. 
I've held in all my pain
More years than i can heal

when will there be a chapter
in this play i've been
That doesn't involve massive damage
Where i can just sit and grin. 

I cant wait any longer
My life that was taken away
need to begin. 

kristen bruni

Copyright © Kristen Bruni | Year Posted 2014

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Haiku -The Drunken Farmer's Moon

Harvest night -in the farmer's wine glass a spinning moon
Contemporary Haiku 3/6/4

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2017

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1985 Robert Mondavi Winery Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve

A beautiful ride off into the sunset, and your horse 
passes through a blooming cherry orchard bordered by cedars; 
your leather saddle was rubbed with high-quality tobacco yesterday. 

It's a big herbal cherry sun that is setting, and you can taste it, 
with a sprinkling of spices, and the satiny union of the tannins are upon you,
so subtle that you wish for more at first; you must be patient as the velvet embrace deepens, insinuating itself deep within you in a silky smooth process, until a final slow-motion fillip of astringency touches the front of your mouth. 

The cork was wet and crumbly almost to the top. 
Definitely time to drink this wine; wish I had more.

A great wine to drink in solitary contemplation, or quietly, with friends.

*Robert Mondavi - Rest In Peace, man, you died in 2008 at age 94, and you always believed in making great wine.

Tasting Note written in April, 2015.

Copyright © Doug Vinson | Year Posted 2016

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Ghosts of summer

standing still
no wind
empty windowsill

at sleep
a death
of another time

flowers that never grow
no wine
tears fall silent

fragments appear
shooting stars at night
dispersed onto the dark
windmills of my mind

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018

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Left Wanting

Your smile
Your hug
Your kiss
Your caress
Your tenderness

Holding you in the night
Perfume scented tranquility
Bringing me humility
Your breath upon my chest

Is my life, till the day I rest
In my grave
Missing you

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017

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Himalayan Sunset

The young men sat, planted under the overhang
like the pansies and geraniums that surrounded them in boxes,
as the rain pelted the terra-cotta terrace.

The mountain air was sharp with the taste of lightening.
Having bid farewell to the arched shard of a rainbow across the valley,
they sat tensely watching the celestial bombardment of Katmandu.

The lightening stoked the day’s heat, 
thickening the early evening sky like the yogurt they’d eaten for lunch.
A home-made rice wine poured freely over their tongues
from an innocent looking water bottle.
Their eyes turned garnet with the harshness of it. 

The bottle sat with its tattered label, upon the arm of the white chair.
The wine within tasted faintly of the gasoline,
yet, they reveled in it, and the freedom from deep seeded societal traits,
it freed them from.

Overhead, the sky was draped in a bridal veil of stars;
as I emerged from the room to sit beside them.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2008

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A Bottle Of Red

Slipping down inside a crystal chandelier 
red rouge cheeks running on through
breathe  as visions settle in my mind
you're just a little bit of nutty 
with an apricot perfume
quite exceptional  I do say
a kindred spirit bouquet

Teasing along the tip of my palate 
caramel gaze of grandeur glows
as you kiss my parched lips away
partaking a perfect compliment 
in every simple way
sparkles spill in anticipation
topping off a pleasant kind of day


Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017

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This red summer is buried in the wine, 
it holds a fragrant oak and note of mine,
to drink to heart and heart to love divine,
we sip the sun rays in and off the vine. 
The crystal glasses clink to celebrate,
a golden moon too full to hesitate, 
to give a kiss and kiss to hold our fate,
in every drop we drink or pause to wait.
When shooting stars are in the wine we drink,
and sunsets fall beneath a rim in pink,
forever hold and hold to keep the link,
between the things we say or thoughts we think.
Let's raise a glass, it may be Summer's last,   
to see the season slip so sweetly past.

-By Edlynn Nau
© August 18, 2016

Copyright © Edlynn Nau | Year Posted 2016

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The Sands Of Time

.....I give you my all through the sands of time 
.......As your hearts rhythm beats with mine 
............Your face reflects my touch within 
..............As the sifting sands pour within 
.................You fill my arms forevermore 
...................Lips of wine wanting more 
.........................As time sifts through 
...............................A sky of blue 
.................................Two hearts 
.....................................A star 
................................Does shine 
.............................On lips of wine 
.........................Our bodies rubbing 
......................Our hearts start blazing 
..................Firey flames make you mine 
................As I give to you my eternal kiss 
...........You start shaking in a shivering bliss 
........Then your hearts rhythm beats with mine 
.....As I give you my all through the sands of time 


Copyright © GeorgeKenneth Martin | Year Posted 2007

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My glass of wine

I sit here drinking my wine 
I look over my own mind 
Over the days gone by
It gives no smile ,MY spirt is dying
What, where and when 
So many questions i try to answer
As life moves faster away

The years have dissappeared 
I can not count the missing smiles
I want to runaway
Day by day
I stay just to obey
I feel like prey
Waiting for the knock on the door

A prison gate surrounds me 
No key to the lock
I have tried
Each step seems wrong direction
Which way to go crossroads stands still
The memories tie me back

I still sit here with my glass
The bottle is still full
To love but not in that special way
It holds me here
My fear wont let go
As i sit with my glass of wine 
As i drift into a thought of unknown....

Copyright © sarah hales | Year Posted 2010

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Wine bottle full of wisdom

it sits in the  fridge humbly
carrying in its stomach liquid
that stirs man’s wisdom
mixing it with foolishness
and everyone who tastes
becomes a free comedian
sometimes annoying one
most often entertaining
even without any training

Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017