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Long Pinot noir Poems

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


Premium Member Pointing Accusing Fingers

 total fiction

I heard the words repeated on the news
so sick of them that my mind rebelled...
"Doge's plan and Trump commands
the Constitution should be banned.
Hell to that Chief!  There's no relief
Breaking news only heightened the blues.
I don't want to hear anymore.

By seven P.M. I lost count of the trips
I'd made, walking fast, past my kitchen,
refusing to turn on the light to see
a day's worth of dirty dishes
that wish I'd make them sparkling clean.
They're staring with a look of contempt at me.

I knew what I'd find...
coffee grinds stuck to the filter
Raisin bran flakes
caked along the edge of a bowl
a saucer with a bunch of crusts
cut off of a sandwich from lunch.
I'll get to them later....
The excuse I used on myself
when the sink is a refuse of clutter.
I've become a recluse
and no one will see them anyway
and the old cliché of...
Tomorrow's another day.

By eight thirty I was bored
a time when food comes to mind
Hunger would not be ignored
A frozen dinner of mac and cheese
"Geeze" said my stomach 
when it saw it coming...
"Oh PLEASE, don't do this to me"
Ok, ok...
chocolate ice cream 
sounds better anyway

By ten, guilt pointed accusing fingers
lingering and wagging before my face.
Stop it!" I actually said aloud
"I'll get to them later,
first thing in the morning. You'll see."
My new mantra was repeated.
I decided to go to bed. My usual stunt,
but culpability was on the hunt
haunting and taunting inside my head

Two steps over the kitchen threshold
and my conscience took control
when I smelled the leftover fish.
The thought of facing each greasy dish
would not be on my to-do list come morning.

I knew my mouth was puckered in a pout
No doubt my yawns were angry at me
and my sudden notion of conviction...
a vow of benediction, it seems I'd taken
awakened me to the need for sanitation.

Liquid was pouring from two spouts
Hot water in the sink
and a 'clink' of glass on glass
Pinot Noir flowed from a decanter
I raised my stem and toasted the dishes
"Here's to wishes that don't come true."
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.


A Wine Connoisseur and Life-Not For Contest

A wine connoisseur and Life

Trickling pearls of red and white
The sizzling hot, the fizzing out
Pinot noir, Reisling, Chardonnay
Teroldego, Norton , Carbanet
Deliverance from all the doubts
As he sees, swirls, sniffs, sips, savors
For once he chooses, its best of world
The embroidered sweet drops with finest taste
The embellished pearly drops with blissful tizz
Oenophile's stemware filled with recherche expertise
Like a bagpiper playing best among best of tunes!
Floats our life's canoe over varied wines of emotions
We the connoisseurs  need to take the tasting flight
And drink  from bottles of right emotions
And drink from glasses poured in blends of doses right
To row the canoe through smoothest wines, 
exotic choices we ought to make...
And enjoy the tizz of happiness,
Savor the taste of contentment,
Relish the sparkling journey
of life to cherish a vintage life!

©Anulaxmi Nayak, 2015

( had to drop it for contest as this exceeded 13 lines...)
© Anu Nayak  Create an image from this poem.

Pitter Patter

The rain is falling
Pitter Patter
I sit on my porch and rock
My Pinot noir slips and shatters
The angry winds mock

I retrieve my lighter from the kitchen
Foolishly expecting to smoke
The enraged wind is full of tension
A gush of rain blew in to soak

My face wore a blank expression
In hopes the storm would taunt another
Portrayed myself oblivious to its aggression
We had a rivalry between each other

The rain is falling
Pitter Patter
I lie in my bed and watch the ceiling drip
A pot to catch the fallen water
Determined to go down with my ship

The storm refuses to cease
Floods consume the bottom level
My home falls apart piece by piece
The very foundation begins to bevel

The rain is falling
Pitter Patter
It rolls off the sides of my face
The storm rolls on, but it doesn't matter
This is a deserted place

Bad Luck for the Vampire Teeth

Bad Luck for the Vampire Teeth


It was such a gloomy Halloween day
The Vampire Teeth tinted with blood,
and delicate pinot noir (bottled not yesterday),
went flying over a field of western redbud.

From his side,
a drunk goose
struck him. The Vampire Teeth cried,
‘Watch where you fly, you goose!’

Then ten more geese smacked into him (frown, frown)
So so winded he couldn’t stay in the air,
and he fell quite fast down down down
into a big crack the length of a bear
in the road that boarded the field square.

No one heard his cries for help.
Then his voice box broke. 
Then a limping construction worker Mr Kelp 
who was too broke
filled in the crack (with some egg yolk)
with cement angrily demanded by the folk.

No more ancient Gaelic Festival of 
Samhain for The Vampire Teeth. 
All because of 
those stupid geese, and that worker Heath.
Form: Rhyme

Dragon Fruit Dragon Juice

There is a sublime pool of intersecting streams. 

I wade that wet like watermelon's green. 

Citrulline el citrine my cisterns be clean like the water's Maxwell.

The soul is luminous and gloomed by the taste of tart nectarines. 

Ascorbic acid redox action.

Black berries and raspberry pi passions. 

Anthocyanin dismutation.

Resveratrol is my midas touch; I turn water into a flight of Pinot noir and charcuterie plush.

I see your face and develop a crush.

I may improvise on your liquid piano a null note to Chopin.

Masquerade with a mask made of fluent time before the sluice is opened. 

Lift my grail to fill of all with these mulled elixirs; to place in a potion of pairs.

Drop just a dram of it's dole on the serpent's forked tongue so that it's venom may be squared.

The juice of a dragon fruit dragon.

Take just a drop to succus for a homeopathic. 

Used to incant with living spirits a sanguine pima mater.

It sweetens inside it's menstruum; imprinting it's mark in the water by delicate radio wave resonance. 

All to be nestled in the sublingual space of an atoned tyrant. 

Vitalized by the fruit's likeliness to my draconian ward. 

Reconstituted by the essence of what was once the fruit of knowledge before. 

Ripened, to a pursuit of love inside it's holon core.


Premium Member The vanishing Olive trees of Puglia

Ongoing rows of trees 
branches reaching binding 
crawling braiding trunks of 
olive trees capturing my senses 
warm breeze glides down my 
spine the ripened forestry handfuls 
delightful ripeness historic scenery 
as I mastered the monopoli landings 
the essence of extra virgin oils pour 
to perfection stored in tins we carry 
them between the lemon zest aroma 
of the countryside an afternoon filled 
with pacifying my fancy with a charming 
pinot noir settling down between the 
largest tree trunks split into from thousands 
of years of draping olives trees throughout 
the hillside magnificent magnitude strength 
balancing heritage while embracing culture
saving the old country the vanishing Puglia
Form: Rubai

The Grape

 In my many years I have found the ideal travelling companion.  An escort who can be quiet and reserved yet sometimes,when required, strong and bold. Most times pleasantly agreeable.  Her age it does not matter and in some cases the older the better.  My companion can be sweet and sugary and maybe at times a little tart.  Yet every now and then,contemporary with plenty of drive and a certain nuance of audacity. Red or white it makes no difference to me.  Tis the grape that has become my friend, my travel guide to the world.  She (and she must always be a she) has seduced me to sip my way through life.  To enjoy its many pleasures and endure its many hardships. A cool sweet Chardonnay has been my Orient Express to intrigue, a potent port my African Queen to adventure and, a delicate red-fruit pinot noir my Apollo to the moon.  I toast to you my friends and to my friend "The Grape".

Crooner's supper club to do list (chef)

an elk rib rack frenched
pinot noir
garlic
slab bacon
pearl onions
tomato paste
mushrooms
celery
red bell pepper
cayeene pepper
thyme bay leaves
carrots
brown all edges of the elk in olive oil
allow to cool
add wine and salt
Mccormick seasoning
all to marinade for three hours

in a dutch oven
add oilve oil 5 T.
cook bacon !/2done
(1/2 raw add lastly)
sautee carrots, celery,
red bell pepper
add mushrooms and
remove from heat
and add the rib roast
pour in wine
add one cup of water
pearl onions
thyme and bay leaves
add tomato paste
season with more McCormick's
cook for 3 hours at 350.
make a gravy and mash potato's
-----------------------------------------
serve with a grilled veggie salad with goat cheese
and garlic bread
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Anniversary

Waiting for him to come home in my sexy low cut short black dress  
To tangle my fingers around his curly blond hair
 Kiss those soft lips the flame of my desire
Start a fire we cannot put out

Tonight marks our one-year wedding anniversary living and loving in paradise
 I've prepared a candlelight dinner for two
 Persimmon and Pomegranate salad
Quail in rose petals sauce
 Couscous, with sultanas and pistachio 
 Garnished the plates with rose buds to set the mood
With a glass of fruity Pinot Noir red wine to warm and intoxicate the night
 For dessert a wonderful strawberries and blueberries vanilla cream pie 
To play and tease letting lips meet and kiss starting a flame of desire
Served out on the veranda under the romantic soft glow of the entertaining moon light and
A million stars with soft music and sweet fragrance of lavender wisteria as it perfumes the garden

I patiently wait for him at the door 
 Take his things and bathe myself in his hug and kiss placing my head against his chest and whisper 
 Happy Anniversary
Touching my soul memories being made binding our love with strawberries and wine

10/15/2015
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Desire, So Simple

Sunset rolling on through the sky,
Haze, what a truly magnificent sight.
To look ahead on the dusty track,
I see the outline of the home that is mine.
Never a thought to look behind me.
One foot in front of the other,
even closer to my desires.
Rubbing my eyes to clear the tears,
overwhelming feeling of pure emotion.
On one side of me, a lake so hypnotic,
shaded gently around the edges
with pine scent trees.
Red and yellow hues colour the sky,
highlighting the thin outline of clouds.
I gaze to the other side I see an assortment of beauty.
Dense woodland half covering a mountain range.
To see pure white snow on peaks,
but feeling the comfort of the warm sun on my face.
As I approach the place I now call home,
I sit on the rocking chair and face the setting sun.
Listening to the blend of the crickets playing the chorus,
my children laughing, leading each verse.
My wife next to me composing the harmony. 
As I smile with a glass of Pinot Noir in hand,
I look over to my wife and see our lives endless.
Sun having set, there is no orange tint in the sky.
I vast blanket of black overhead with millions of diamonds inset.
How I feel at peace with my heart secured here.
Worry, a word that has no meaning.
Never having to wake from this lucid slumber 
Knowing how blessed I am to have my dream made real.

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