to tender the vines
they weep merlot tears
so merlot to hold
they ferment our years
to tender the cask
they reap merlot tears
to bottle and hold
they ferment for years
too tender the cask
they reap merlot fears
no merlot to hold
they ferment our tears
The sun's ventures to scorch the blossoms fail.
Goddesses Maia and Lakshmi sail.
Pre-monsoon drizzles cool the environs.
Optimism spreads wings, hushing storm's sirens.
Human forms are moulded to merriment
With the leaven of truth, good deeds ferment.
Clear conscience cascades from the divine source.
As a gentle breeze, love becomes life force.
For the tillers of land, it's a fair season.
In creating this, God has his reason.
As graces reach the zenith of goodness
May the Divine lead all towards fullness!
If i fall there will be more
With hope and love for all for sure
I pillowed my hardest thoughts so i could
hide in my dreams
I fractured my guilt so sorrow could sing
Never be content with what is missing
Always ferment your anger, permitting
Sure for what they forgot
And try to claim in the dark what they bought
I sense here some things sinister—a scent
of sulphur, sulking in a sultry pit;
a serpent’s hiss, expressed from space unlit;
a warm spell spilling from some seething vent;
I find now some things filthy—foul ferment
foaming, frothing; a gaseous, gurgling slit
discharging fetid, festering, sour spit;
malignant mold in cold, cracking cement;
So languid, loath, obtuse I trepidate
on into the black bowels of my home.
Gagging back a nausea’s tepid bubble,
shivering a shudder that won’t abate,
discover I a gory catacomb.—
Woah… I see well now how bad my trouble!
These quakes and shivers of mine,
Are they tales forebode?
Language spat, drool untold,
Encrypted bits by line.
Does the anchor sit?
Cracks in dorsal fins,
Pinch the nodes whose nervous system knows,
Better than to think.
Juniper pine, ferment pepper mend,
The ache of later hours,
To quench the essence ever tends,
To that which self devours.
Canticles of echoed places,
Hummed in spaces felt at once,
Coded corpus, temporal traces,
And seemly more than nonce.
If only I was less than this,
As only now's enough,
To be all, I'd be remiss,
Missing all the stuff.
It would seem that our early ancestors
Foraged afar to find the freshest fruit
But sometimes they would have to eat windfalls
That were covered with that white fungal fur
Which made the windfall fruit start to ferment
And making alcohol from the sugars.
Was this fermented fruit more popular,
Perhaps providing them with much pleasure?
Did fermented fruit become preferred food?
Maybe over many millions of years
Our human genes then slowly did evolve
So we take to consuming alcohol.
Fiery sun's endeavors to scorch the buds and blossoms fail
As pre-monsoon drizzles cool and caress the environs
Maia and Laxmi, goddesses of spring, slowly sail
Optimism and adventure spread wings, shushing storm's sirens.
My human form moulded to be born in May merriment
My conscience and consciousness cascade from the divine source.
With the leaven of truth, each word and deed of mine ferment
As the breeze gives breath to this month, love becomes my life force.
Adele, Will Arnett, Megan Fox, and Lenny the Kravitz
How sweet, Rabindranath Tagore too, bloomed in this season!
The labourers, who still are suffering for their birthrights
If He's made me a Mayborn, doesn't God have his reason?
As graces of fruitfulness reach the zenith of goodness
May the almighty, day by day, lead me towards fullness!
How I miss what I never had
Long hot kisses kinetic cranberry flavored
As I struggle with my need to breathe
Every breath in and out for you
The deepest fuzzy feelings ferment
In every fiber of my body my soul
We are so close yet so far
Long distance love challenges so unique
Yet we climb each mountain peak
Standing victorious in each others heart
Violet veins pumping the same goals
Hopes purple passion and old fashioned needs
I’m unable to flee from you
Because you are inside of me
It’s pleasant and peaceful
How you make love to my mind
With only your words so kind
And I am grateful for whatever
Way we connect be it chats
Or email or internet
We have only a moment to blink
And find reasons why we think
Time is on our side
And we surf it like ocean tide
I think we are very special
And as you say
The heart wants what it wants
So it’s not really a problem
Being apart when we are an island
Intellectually connected and destined
We have beat the odds
And now we can be sweethearts
For as long as blessed by God
CIDER TIME
Just like the leaves, apples eventually fall
An early hint of October’s natural bounty
The time to be making more cider is now
On misty mornings, picked from the bough
Recognised as due, throughout the county
A sharp taste not sweet, preferably small
Washed and sorted, chopped and crushed
The juice is strained, then left to ferment
But a little sugar and yeast may expedite
With years of experience, one does it right
Then a week or so until the bottling event
But it takes its own time, best never rushed
A popular drink ever since the dark ages
Especially in climates that are temperate
It’s a simple route to drinking satisfaction
That every time, secures a good reaction
And requires a good sleep to recuperate
Nectar of the Gods, as said by the sages
Our mulberry tree, full and bent
Gives berries so sweet, heaven-sent
They grow big and fall
Woodchucks have a ball
Get drunk on the ones that ferment!
In field of emotions, a fire-storm has grown,
Seeds of rebellion aflame and wind-borne are sown.
Creating chaotic scenes, burned by spirit's flame,
Fomented fervor, a revolutionary game.
Fomented hearts, with courage compromised are made lame,
Unyielding on purpose, foments have staked their claim.
Anger simmers, rancor seethes, and heart beat wavers
In the cauldron of discord, it quivers quavers.
Fomented minds, with thoughts so tainted, twisted unkind,
Make claims to sublime reason, unravel unwind
They inflame the embers of long stagnant belief,
Awakening the masses asleep, pedaling grief.
The frothy foment foam spewed up into the crowd,
Ignites ferment and loathing in threatening cloud.
Feed them silage for good milk yield.
Better than grazing in the field.
Inside they come and silage eat
and they delight in tasty treat.
Dry and warm in the shed they stay
munching silage throughout the day.
With alcohol at three percent,
a happy meal from grass-ferment.
They are content and keeping dry
and slowly getting somewhat high.
But some unsteady on their feet
as far too much silage they eat.
Feed them silage for good milk yield.
Better than grazing in the field.
My lonely heart cries in the empty night
and its sobbing sound is the tears that call
from deep pain that rises like birds in flight
trying to flee from my heartbroken fall
long is the time when my heart is alone
and the creep of confusion will intrude
nowhere to turn I cleave to the unknown
tortured in a shadowy world subdued
my pain-filled eyes are a distant blank void
where silence becomes a much louder scream
I look to my soul and find it's devoid
and cross the realm of this nightmarish dream
time is a venom where pain will ferment
my soul is crippled, and my emotions spent
3/15/23
contest writing challenge-"L" words
sponsor Constance La France
Chantaclair
From the pleasure garden,
came the grape to ferment the vintage,
loved by pauper poet, saint, or sage.
Taste so sweet with just a hint of bite,
nectar of the gods,
but a single bottle survives, Chantaclair.
A fiercely tight as light garment
You won't spare cruel comment;
To put it on a self torment,
To take it off: you shall lament.
Garment's troubles wearers foment
And the needless pains augment,
Sooner on your waist liniment:
A sweet fashion–imposed ailment
"Just,you watch Laura's face,ferment
You'd think she's from dad's interment"
Laura's thigh had yelled in the skirt,
Her helpless pelvis rudely hurt
By a skirt like a reply curt
And like The Biggest Sin a dirt...
"I see Laura's Mum's hate cement
Tight miniskirt not a raiment".
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