Best Winepress Poems
Jerusalem, in the white of night,
with all the ages steeped upon your shoulders,
and the tombs of fading kings;
history has been unkind to thee,
and the desert sea laden with endless enemies ----
thou shooting star who shawn too bright! ----
how wan the dying rose with Mecca roaring in the wind!
how it whispers a new witchcraft....
A new shackle the zealots bring, on hallowed ground....
where angels fear to tread, lest they spill blood,
like the lot of man, the rockets shall bring peace, they say!
and from the east the Palestian, crushed like grapes in a winepress,
betwixt Hebrew and madmen;
'O Jerusalem, how the Lillie's lilt in thy wan shadow,
how the purge of men shudders to hear your final breath....
no sun shines on thee like a risen Christ;
no banner he bears but love,
no weapon formed but wisdom to silence paranoia;
lay down your swords, and he shall rebuild thee in three days
'O Jerusalem,
you old arrid hero,
who needs but the nectar of peace to heal thy ancient bones,
an old name whispers on the wind.....
Categories:
winepress, christian, forgiveness, religion, violence,
Form:
Free verse
THE AVANTE-GARDE OF VELLUM AND INK
The avante-garde of vellum and ink, like Cupid’s bow and arrow,
Carte blanche to choose the muse we love - imagination’s marrow.
Bullseye of introspection, a deep inkwell — my bona fide intention.
The juxtaposition — a cacophony of the archer’s winepress contravention.
Well-perched anomaly, like high-wire birds, of hitchcockian suspense.
A honeyed deja vu, a kiss well spent, on charismatic common sense.
Ennui, eventually, my pen withdraws, a flatline — without insipid beat.
Paddles renew my heart — this dilettante soon rises from her invalid seat.
My spirit glows rainbow baroque, pearls vagabond dance with abandon.
Ambrosial-sassy elan drizzles like syrup, on sweet spot pancakes land’n.
1/16/2018
Silent One’s Ten Words Ten Lines 2 Poetry
Words: avante-garde, carte blanche, bona fide, cacophony,
anomaly, deja vu,ennui, dilettante, baroque, elan
Categories:
winepress, writing,
Form:
Couplet
Ever-Upwards, I AM The Sun
I Am the Sum of One,
I Am the Total of the Light Force, Ever-So Bright
Ever So High, I Blaze in Kundalini Fire
Illuminating Ethers of Life Within
I Am Eternal, I Am Infinite
I Am Promethean, Fire Born is the motto
I wield Boons from the Astros,
Ever-Luminous, I Am Octillion Mega Hertz of pure energy
Vibing on these Holy Melodies,
Ever-Solar, I'm a Cosmo Soldier
Dropping Jewels out the Winepress, Ever-Forward
Blazing Hymns of Salvation, I Am Glorious
I Am Victorious,
One with the Stars I Illumine the Abyss
Dazzling in shades of Gold and Bliss,
Untethered, I Breach realms of Eternal Life
I Am The Sun, I Am the Sun So High
Categories:
winepress, spiritual,
Form:
Rhyme
I live in a world where there is no flow and ebb
where flies are snared in the spiders web
Where anger is the clothing that spirits wear
hand me down garments soiled with fear
Where eyes fail from weeping incapable of emotions
and the heart bears the tsunami the bodies waves like the ocean's
In the winepress of the psyche I trample the virgin daughter of bliss
and beyond the landscape of sin and firmament of folly lies the serpents hiss
I live in a world where wisdom and knowledge collide similar to protons
Where innocence is slaughtered like Salem's pillars and scions
As the lion makes a kill its the jackel that profits
but before the jackel appears its the hyena that mocks it
And as the prey that is stalked is slain without pity
The herds of people represent stock roaming the cities
Women eat their offspring and they dont even know it
While the scheme of men cast shadows over truth not to show it
In my world my eyes flow unceasingly without mercy without ease
as vengeance owns depth, so deep it stalks the forrest beyond trees
In my world the mind constantly mocks the heart
While guilt is the warden whom imprisons the soul in the dark
Like the rain that suffocates the land with a constant pour
My inner child cries louder than thunder or a lion with a constant roar
In my world an infants tongue adheres to roof of its mouth
and food is as scarce to child as insects are to a grouse
Nurtured in purple but racked with hunger
It is better to die by the sword then to live with famine in numbers
Joy has dispersed from our hearts and dancing has moved to mourn
as brightness has merged with the dark the fabric of happiness is torn
Categories:
winepress, introspection, world, heart, child,
Form:
Rhyme
The braying of horses
of the Knights
Of the Saints of thieves
and thugs
The winepress of propaganda
is waning
And there is no more to draw
from
The silhouettes' of darkness is
fast fading
The dawning of truth is fast
approaching the horizon
The rainbow brightening the sky
again
The skies are clearer now, that
the hubris is come
The dawn, the unfamiliar quietness
the hush
The shadows are merging into
one wholesome
It is noon; midday at the equator.
It's about time for the blame game
to end
But it has only just began more awaits
us citizens
The cards are on the deck, waiting to
be reshuffled
Hush! hush!! It's the Nigerian poker
please keep quiet.
Categories:
winepress, analogy, august, change, character,
Form:
Free verse
I cannot help but jeer and laugh.
Dull knives, and spears, and staves
they raise to praise their golden calf,
while standing in their graves.
So soon have they forgot the staff
of Him Who kills and saves.
They break the law, of stone, in half.
His hand, on hearts of stone, engraves.
Great wrath is poured upon proud braves,
for how each heart of stone behaves.
He treads each stone. A path He paves.
He drags the mighty from their caves,
into His winepress. Made mere slaves.
He drinks the wine His vengeance craves.
Categories:
winepress, evil,
Form:
Rhyme
Fear is a fatal flower that blooms in every breast,
twining its vicious tendrils to choke hope's infant rest.
Fear bears a bitter fruitage, a wine of black despair;
hope, drunken, weaves the linen to shroud her dying heir.
Fear is the devil's vintage of desecrated years;
but Jesus treads the winepress and His love casts our Fear.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 1987
Categories:
winepress, christian, fear, jesus,
Form:
Rhyme
Suddenly the royal mantle of life slips away
It is evening, I
gathering close the cosy cloak of daily ennui
step out into the drizzle
One grey raindrop for one stilled life
The billions who came and went
Since Adam and his wife
Silent swallows fill the sky of Sidon
Somewhere there
By the stone jug fallen among motley earthenware
On a cobbled lane far, not quite far
from the temple, soldiers, winepress,
thonged sandals, scrolls, philistine perfumes
And the relentless drip of a stone faucet
There,
here and everywhere
The measured step, the laboured step
The famous step to hear
To kiss
Every single raindrop falling
Out of ken
With the tired sweep of the hem of His dress
Without priest or prelate
Mice or men
Categories:
winepress, dedication
Form:
Free verse
We two amidst the wastelands walked
Where heroes fell and mad ghosts leapt.
There slaughtered angels we beheld
With trembling eyelids moist yet brave,
Alone, so drear the gathering Dark!
And you, small vessel, cracked with grief-
By storm,no less assailed...
From haunted trails through orchards thorns,
Their bitter fruit by tears well suckled,
We'd tarried toiled and tasted much
At Sorrow's depthless winepress,
'Til chanced our thusly armored souls
'Pon fated mystic moon-tossed fields
To each the other greet...
I'd long not heard the fountains speak
From obscure and violet banks
Nor known the breath of Dawnibg's blush
Caress my worn, care-chisled cheek, but then-
But then! Your voice, a breeze
Like Day's first sigh a'borning,
That celestial, sweet sad-burdened song
Became my revelie...
Categories:
winepress, depression, girlfriend-boyfriend, lost love,
Form:
Imagism
I do digress
Am I a mess
I must confess
So much duress
Sometimes suppress
I must profess
Take no bs
And will outguess
How hard to press
It will transgress
When I regress
I do depress
My minds undress
That my willingness
Is the forgiveness
Of my hopelessness
If I impress
Will I egress
Or to ingress
How do I guess
The move in chess
Will I say yes
Or what to bless
And to process
My own distress
Do I oppress
Or use finesse
Should I caress
Maybe to assess
And to access
The true bareness
With my princess
In her nightdress
She does possess
A true largesse
She is noblesse
A son named jess
In her sundress
A true success
Almost fluoresce
I won’t compress
How she does dress
Or set her tress
Does so impress
Do I obsess
Wear my headdress
Also wardress
Will I progress
In my broadness
Used my clothespress
Tried a winepress
Then to repress
Had to redress
Ate watercress
Changed a shirtdress
I am no less
I will express
Not to excess
Won’t do unless
Drain the abscess
To what address
I will egress
At my recess
I have no stress
Categories:
winepress, imagination, life,
Form:
Rhyme
What at the least do I own
That I can proudly call mine:
My bountiful harvest of seeds sown,
Or the winepress of my vine?
A thousand sheep on a hill,
A thousand herds grazing there;
Not a one of them I own still,
Tho' the ownership I somehow bear.
A thousand chests of gold,
A thousand boxes of silver wares;
And all of them still, I behold,
Are temporarily under my cares.
A thousand lines unpenned,
A thousand notes to my name;
Yet all of them till the very end,
Are but a borrowed life and fame.
Categories:
winepress, life,
Form:
Quatrain
There she was moments before
she flew away from the snare
in your arms a songless owl.
Strewn pictures on the floor, half-hearted
sketches of her face, her forgotten
velvet shawl with a cheap cologne that is priceless to your soul
desperately in need of fragrance, her ghosts
hovering to kiss your heart
with vengeful fangs.
Tonight
where the guitar can not play itself,
pieces come together to a picture
with the caption 'Paradise Lost.'
Night is the butler
attending you with horns of tears
from the winepress of memories.
She walked out a ruined city from
her doting watchtowers when you cheated,
looted the treasuries of her maiden glory,
broke down her walls with no mourner
to tell of the burnt offerings of her heart
on your altar of indifference in your temples of lies.
She ran.
She leapt into the arms of "You will return to me. No man can love you
like I do."
You watched her dare the paths forbidden
uprooting rusted sign posts of lies.
She never returned like you dreamt.
Your charm failed.
You crashed the glass of aphrodisiac against the wall.
Sick of wishing on wishing stars
you trace where the stars fall
to fetch one into your hat like a gloworm.
There you found her
an owl that used to be the mocking bird of your
of half-baked sonnets on love.
She sings stars from their constellation
with her muse;
a man that knows not the books
but is master of the art...her heart.
She sings you a threnody
with borrowed lyric of your wounding cusses.
Here is where she finds love
as she sings the songs of the free
on a shattered cage
outside your arms.
Categories:
winepress, courage, emotions, first love,
Form:
Free verse
The rugged race is not to
the swift
nor the bitter battle to
the strong,
within us lies a leverage,
a lift--
towering above the
thraldom of throngs.
Godliness plus
contentment breeds gain;
Laziness plus gluttony
concieves penury.
We are who we are, I
cannot explain
why the haughty forget
this in a hurry.
You cannot win the war
without a sword,
of what value is a spade
to a fisherman?
You cannot woo a
dame...without a word;
spoken or inscribed, you
realy need a plan.
Today is the future you
were expecting,
O, you are caught
unawares, I guess.
It will soon be a past you
will be reflecting...
worries cannot put ripe
Grapes in winepress.
Appreciation is an
application for more--
demand less, command
more O Oliver Twist!
Golden grains are stored
in this Lore...
sow those small seeds in
your tight fist.
You are who you are, O
skillful player,
good at winning the big
blame game.
Attitude cannot be
swapped for prayers,
shall we stop soiling the
Holy God's name?
Categories:
winepress, devotion
Form:
Rhyme
Heaven sends forth it's angel
coming with a sharp sickle
another angel came from the temple
for the earth were in a right pickle!
This angel had authority over the fire
he spoke then with a voice so loud
to the one with the sharp sickle
gather the cluster from earth's crowd
Having put in his sickle
from the grapes were ripe
so the angel swung it across earth
covering every peoples and type
They were thrown into God's winepress
where His wrath and blood did flow
this picture of God's awful judgement
revealing sin's awful consequence to show
(' Then another angel came out of the temple in heaven, and he too had a sharp sickle. And another angel came out from the altar, the angel who has authority over the fire, and he called with a loud voice to the one who had the sharp sickle, “Put in your sickle and gather the clusters from the vine of the earth, for its grapes are ripe.” So the angel swung his sickle across the earth and gathered the grape harvest of the earth and threw it into the great winepress of the wrath of God.') Revelation ch. 14 vs. 17-19 (ESV)
Categories:
winepress, bible, god, life,
Form:
Rhyme
The rugged race is not to
the swift
nor the bitter battle to
the strong,
within us lies a leverage,
a lift--
towering above the
thraldom of throngs.
Godliness plus
contentment breeds gain;
Laziness plus gluttony
concieves penury.
We are who we are, I
cannot explain
why the haughty forget
this in a hurry.
You cannot win the war
without a sword,
of what value is a spade
to a fisherman?
You cannot woo a
dame...without a word;
spoken or inscribed, you
realy need a plan.
Today is the future you
were expecting,
O, you are caught
unawares, I guess.
It will soon be a past you
will be reflecting...
worries cannot put ripe
Grapes in winepress.
Appreciation is an
application for more--
demand less, command
more O Oliver Twist!
Golden grains are stored
in this Lore...
sow those small seeds in
your tight fist.
You are who you are, O
skillful player,
good at winning the big
blame game.
Attitude cannot be
swapped for prayers,
shall we stop soiling the
great God's name!
Categories:
winepress, inspirational
Form:
Rhyme