The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Long Grapes Poems

Long Grapes Poems. Below are the most popular long Grapes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grapes poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Pardon My Lame Humor

Dear 2024,

I hope this poetic vow 
wouldn’t be shunned,
as I block negativity 
from my phone, 
like my bitter exes.

And forgive my sense
of humor that 
resembles sour grapes, 
like a dash of salt 
and pepper sprinkled 
on top of old drapes. 
Perhaps, as this 
year bids adieu,
I’ll find the right 
ingredient to concoct 
sparkling wine infused 
with giggles that 
age like 
    chucklesome limericks,
as I fine-tune the 
empty spaces 
  of my scribbled 
pages with hilarity. 
I’ll learn to laugh a 
little louder and hope 
the ebb of every 
    comical tale can flow. 
Maybe a stricter 
chocolate diet would 
help me see the 
sweeter side of 
powdered comedians, 
sharpening my wit 
as endorphins enhance
 my ability to spot 
the depth of puns 
punctuated 
  with bizarre tones. 

And as December rain 
drizzles in symphony
of the darkness 
my quill flaunts, 
pardon these 
  peculiar metaphors, 
I’ll raise a glass
   of crocodile tears, 
a toast for 
  more concise poetry,
and faces I’ve phased,
that I’ll no longer 
  vent about in vain verses.

Cheers to the 
festival lights 
on wheel of laughter, 
may the florescence 
forever flicker as 
souvenirs of amusement.

I’ll dance into the 
rising sun of a new year,
in an odyssey adorned
with shimmering dreams
embalmed in
    tickling mint leaves.


Premium Member God Of The Living Can Cut the Silver Cord with his Decree

We Dedicate to the living source this day flow the taste sweet the decree of the ley lines boasts the energy source be loose or be bound for the great God spoke that it will remain forever known the Decree is made in the book where people perish for lack of knowledge. The God of the living sits on the mercy seat requesting it must fly the lines from and to the God of the living not the god of the dead energy cease your astro deeds from the living be secured or remember now a change has come to the land and the silver cords of the dead is broken now what we speak about must now be broken in the secret place of the tongue and the color cords of life and death be broken in the day and in the riding of the night flight home, only the God kingdom come only Gods will be done on earth was already a decree for his people especially what Ecclesiastes said in the book the silver cord is thin and on the other side not life but the cutting of the death so beware, god of the dead secret vaults knowledge stored Coveryour people in the God of love and through that love body fresh so sweet the taste of love completely protected and even with mistakes grace is given to live and let live to smile and let smile with the God of the living, not the god of the dead! In my heart
My beloved spoke and said unto me rise up my love my fair one and come away for lo, the winter is passing the rain of swift cold winds is over and gone when the seasons change  the flowers appear on the earth in spring it begins on earth awake  my dear my love be of good cheer the time of the singing birds is coming and the voice of living creatures appear the voice of the turtle is heard in our land the fig tree will put forth continually put forth her green figs and my love we will be one the vines with the delicious tender grapes shall appear and the taste my dear is sweet with the fragrant smell the taste my love come arise my dear the air is clear
 The sky reflects the rainbow covenant that wipes away our tears
Get up from your slumber in the bed of sorrow and walk from the dark sad stare stop the crying of the looking glass mirrors of reflections show the pain
see the long wide road of the living God not the god of the dead.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Blooms 2

Flowers in a vase
Gifts of nature's bounty;
Fragrant beauty adorns

~~~~~~~~~


Lizards stride
Wall to ceiling;
Snacking stray insects

~~~~~~~~~


Gold fish bowl
Swimming jewels;
Watery perfection

~~~~~~~~~


Glass of wine
Fragrant red tint;
Nature's own vigour

~~~~~~~~~


Idyllic vineyards
Land stretching far;
Grapes for the wine press

~~~~~~~~~


Stray flowers dance
Wind blown wayside;
Grass verge boundary

~~~~~~~~~


Nature's abundance
Pomegranates and persimmons;
Fruit basket gift

~~~~~~~~~


Temple visit
Gifts for ancestors;
Lovely dispensations

~~~~~~~~~


Rooftop garden stroll
Busy bees buzzing;
Honey industry

~~~~~~~~~


Noisy nestlings
Evening feed secure;
Treetop apartments

~~~~~~~~~


Late evening breeze
Cold wetness chills;
Rain on the way

~~~~~~~~~



Leon Enriquez
18 August 2014
Singapore
Form: Haiku

Whiskey Wine and Beer

when the roses have all faded and the grapes have left the vines
and the bitterness of years long past have caught you out of line
will you gladly look ahead into the coming years
or will you hide your teardrops in your whiskey wine and beer

when all is gone and nothings left the devil takes a hold
he will burn the fires of living hell way down into your soul
he will take you down upon the skids in lonliness and fear
to hide your bitter teardrops in your whiskey wine and beer

i know for i had fallen down as low as man could go
then god lent a helping hand the devil left my soul
jesus christ he reached out and caught me as i fell
you too can have this life instead of whiskey wine and hell
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Gal L Actic

Gal(l)actic 

What a dream girl woman I mean like all
the stars heaven and cosmos never to fall
orbits moons sun wind fire water and earth
never in light years a drought and no dearth

We danced our mobile of yo-yos no strings
attached cosmic pleasure undefeatable wings
roots to grow old with conjoined and together
we meant to sustain all storms and all weather

We made love lived love and made children
had future and trust pleasures by the million
a legion and galaxy of strength and good power
a kiss a word sustenance rose passion flower

Then black holes turned our cool Universe sour
the gal spiralled plenty of lactic acid to scour
what once was gentle and free flowing friction
turned malicious malfeasant from benediction

You gallivanted away no more communication
a confused meteorite and un-curtailed corrugation
just silence and denial gall bile odorous flight
a crash with full impact lost gravitational height

I believe you’re still bitter and sour full of acid
a stream catcher of victimhood still self-centredly tacit  
misappropriated in anger delusion cantankerous vile
the stars have moved heaven and turned at the stile

My cosmos has shifted found new lover mate wife
nourishing alkaline base peaches and much better life
sweet milk grapes and ambrosia no more chaos united
joined at our hips mind and soul a new galaxy sighted

01st September 2016 Spring Day in South Africa
Form: Rhyme


The Strasbourg Dancing Sickness

Is dance a metaphor for sex?
You’d think so if you knew my ex
(at least the barflies all believe
she’s hoarding something up her sleeve).
But what makes people want to dance?
An aural frenzy? True romance?
Would Hamlet, Shylock or Macbeth
ever dance themselves to death?
Strasbourg is the kind of town
that’s unassuming, buttoned down.
These people don’t let down their hair:
rarely reckless, somewhat square.
The year before a reign began
(that’s Charles the Fifth – the Habsburg man):
to celebrate Saint Vitus’ Day
a Strasbourg woman’s new ballet
was launched in Rue des Hallebardes
(a strange event in all regards).
Right outside her Strasbourg home,
a stone’s throw from Strassburgerdom,
one Frau Follea hit the street
(and man, that chick could move her feet!)
We don’t know what her motive was:
perhaps she did it ‘just because’.
Did she deserve the looney bin?
No - other folks were joining in!
With twisting torsos, poor and posh,
the city streets were soon awash.
Without the need for record player,
the followers of Frau Follea
bopped and boogied through the night,
as hot as Rhineland anthracite.
Did scruples sting at morning mist?
Did conscience prick them to desist?
Did people halt their hellish dance?
Not one mosher! Not a chance!
On they conga’d, rocked and rolled,
oblivious to heat or cold.
More Alsace dusks, forever amber,
reverberated to their samba.
The local grapes are full and juicy:
the people step a mean watusi.
There’s such a thing as civic pride,
but this lot cha-cha’d till they died!
Housewife, beggar, baker, barber
were parties to the danse macabre. 
Was their motive pleasure? Fear?
Penance? Sydenham’s Chorea?
The reason for the quick-quick-slow
I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Protected Sex

Protected Sex

They eloped guided by the moonlit night in hot pursuit
of change love passion desire embrace of communion
Homeless they were apart from the tattered old banger
and a journey unfolding from paradise no seat belts
no hazard lights reclined unrestricted in seminal flow

A wild ride ensued by the side of the ground-breaking
road ahead when skin melted into skin and piquant lava
grapes from heaven and oysters intermingled their fuse
lovers of the Universe and the moment showing the way
as destiny’s mandala and Karma had it Nelson Mandela’s

residence was just down the passage of time and place a 
revolution peaceful resolution guarding sparks quakes and
delirious shivers in the pushing and pull of reaching the top
peaks summits made headway directed in mind souls and
physical essence sourced and sprang open flooding the ocean

When luminous sparks from torches shone in their eyes
romance was guarded exploded by dazzling torches and
the smile of security dressed in uniform’s treasure box
Kalashnikovs in hand to defend and protect should danger
ensue but the soldiers passed on from the orbit of peace

Making love on the road of freedom firing home and away
into one giant ecstatic rapture unfolding cascades tidal 
motion of a new life beginning cleared the air from under
the steaming dashboard and signposts led to new meaning
of hungry frenzied fever and protected sex in a very new light

16th September 2016

Vines

I no longer listen to certain songs that remind me of you
If I do my brain becomes like white grapes in a wine press
the juice seeping out of my eyes
leaving the pomace sloshing within my skull
fertilizing seeds of pernicious thoughts and feelings
that soon sprout into an invasive infestation 
of intransigent vines winding their way 
into every crack and crevice
taking root throughout my essence
excruciatingly painful to pull
only releasing their hold after extraordinary effort
It would be far easier to leave them be 
They’re quite pretty actually but they would weaken
the mortar holding me together causing it to crumble 
I don’t have the energy anymore 
to rebuild myself brick by brick as I’ve done before 
There is silence where once was the ever present 
sound of singing, the plinking of pianos
the strumming of guitar strings, the beat of bass drums 
all blending together into audible art
There is only the music within me
The steady metronome of my heart

Premium Member Letter To Death

Pray, what is your purpose, Death?
Carrying souls to their fated dues,
Via your messengers, beings so vile and so ugly
That the eyes hurt simply by looking at them!

Are you part of God's team?
Acting on His orders, reaping souls from the mundane
Like we reap grapes from vineyards?
Or do you act on your own?
Attempting always to snatch souls away
Before they manage to reach the abode of God?


Pray, Death, why do you even exist?
Living leads us nowhere,
We grow, we bloom, we reach our apex
Only to turn into decaying messes!
Then, you come around and you submit us
To another dose of torture
As, supposedly, we are to be punished for how we have played
All this time!

Existing is like being strapped to an everlasting tornado
Swirling and swirling into an incomprehensible medium
Going nowhere and being meaningless and burdensome!

Why, Death, are you secured from your own purpose?
Do you not meet with Death too?
If so, then, is existing not void?

Pray, enough of all of this senseless drama
We are slaves, each one of us,
From Mother Earth, to humans, to you Death,
We are slaves, we own nothing, we rule not even ourselves
We chose not even to birth
Life is simply imposed upon us and tagged we become
With a load of actions leading to some reactions
Which push us towards deeper detriments!

Enough, I am fed up,
Religion is a lie!
Life is corrupt!
Humans, fooled into a plot to accept their own existence,
To soothe their suffering
Remain compelled to act as per some guidelines!

Why, Death, I am at a stage where I have lost faith in everything
My heart has coiled around it,
The snakes of negativity and they constantly inject it
With their venomous broods!
I crave to be soothed,
But I wish to have my questions answered,
What is your purpose in all of this?
More, what is my purpose while I lead an existence
In a false world?

Premium Member Sour Grapes

I penned a great poem for a contest
Glowing comments stated it should place high
When winners appeared I became distressed
I'd failed to place and released a sad sigh  
 
I silently seethed, didn’t breathe a word,
I held back tears, eyes started to glisten
The placing by this judge was so absurd
I held my tongue as no one would listen

The sponsor had been blatantly unjust
All the winners ignored one simple rule
'Winning’ poems used words of such disgust
That judge proved to be a dim-witted fool
 
I’ve now completed my sour grapes sonnet
If I’m on Mark’s list, I’ll eat my bonnet!

Sour grapes Sonnet Contest

* didn't counted as 2 syllables not 1 as per how many syllables
Poem written for sour grapes contest theme and is not aimed at any particular sponsor 


8/16/18
Form: Sonnet

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