Long Sauvignon Poems
Long Sauvignon Poems. Below are the most popular long Sauvignon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sauvignon poems by poem length and keyword.
salt and pepper six large beeff bones bake at 350 for 35 to 40 mins.
remove a cool
remove marrow from the bone and set aside
2 cups of chopped minced fine cremine mushrooms
1 cup of olives chopped fine
1/2 cup of minced onion
2 T of minced garlic
4 T of roasted bell pepper
1/2 stick of butter
salt and pepper
1 teaspoon of cayenne pepper
4 T conagac
2/3 cups of heavy cream
2 T of dried thyme
Cook the mushroom duxelles. Sauté very finely chopped mushrooms, shallots, and thyme together into a flavorful paste.
mix in marrow
mix well and set aside
We want Two cups of cooked fork tender pot roast
shred pot roast into small fine pieces
and add to the mushroom mixture
cut the Pate A Chouxs in half removing any extra filling
or remove the tops
layer prosciutto in the puffs and
add beef mixture
serve with Crispy Garlic Parmesan Fries
and Salad with a light vinaigrette and
Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot
Enjoy!
multi nuanced
flavour
many coloured
& aromas to savour
always in the taste
& swallowed
without haste.
bottled
magnums
& jereboam,
bouquets
to hint
of lemon & jam
chadonnay shiraz
sauvignon
tempranillo
merlot jostle
in a throng
of
wein germanic
bernkastel moselle
&
the trinity
champagne
sherry& port
the latter
stilton's best escort
beaujolais
loved
by the light-hearted
a lingering thirst&
race
to import
first
none
can surpass
rioja's reserva
at a thousand feet
oak aged
ripened
in summer heat
We met over oysters and scallops in the French Quarter
of a mismatched ether.
She sent pictures - her in a mirror, beside a mirror,
partly hidden by a mirror, naked under glass
(I still have that one).
She liked to reflect and be reflected.
I admired her self-regard, her low-minded succulence,
Her high-handed high-heeled slipperiness.
Raw fresh oysters and Dom Perignon for breakfast and lunch.
Scallops seared in butter on a crostini and a
Sauvignon Blanc for supper.
This minimalist diet kept her svelte, prim, and of course
most improper. I thought of her as a swim without a swimmer,
splashes of her revealing her lovely lips, and they were indeed
lovely,
red but not scarlet more a sea anemone rouge
as it fades to a pink laced coral.
The camera may garnish but it cannot hide
that kind of salty lusciousness
caught fresh every morning.
I likened her to a glistening slickness to be sipped or guzzled
Her words slipped through you like Gaelic eels.
Her neck undulated as a dolphins caress
as she swallowed her catch and zoomed.
I confess to an occasional shame-faced queasiness;
and then oyster and scallops are best consumed
over the internet where too much of them
cannot sour the stomach or tease you softly
with a squirmy aftertaste.
Yet I still imagine her in a mirror again
her teeth as pearly as pearls, yet snip-snip sharp
and as pointy as stiletto’s rent through a fished-up
filet of heart.
we were adopted on the same morning
my father loved us, a love adoring
my brothers shared a gene name, Cabernet
sisters noble parents based on hearsay
my dad built a strong house of fine French oak
we stayed there for months until the walls spoke
Sauvignon muscular and the strongest
Franc dark and lean and can stay the longest
Merlot is too shy and soft as satin
me, Petit Verdot, was told to fatten
we left that house for a place very small
this was a time of character for all
life a blend of love and time but real
dad says it’s a Bordeaux surreal appeal
-updated July 2016-
Moon Fantastique
The moon peeked in and said, "Hello!"
And then, shocked, on the floor, slipped my bowl
of trembling, deepest, red jello!
You don't know the delight this sparked in me.
This summer's night, now so glorious with the moon
flooding the room bright.
My sequined slippers like sparkling rainbows, splashed
colors all over the room.
Even the jello rippled a romantic crimson!
As if I were floating in a La Mer Cabernet Sauvignon
Mr. Moon, and me~ah in unforeseen, extraordinary
vintage, sparkling, celestial ecstasy!
June 28,2020
9:30pm PST
A bittersweet taste of isolation grips
while ambling into our unlit attic,
escorted by a window's glassy beam ...
And I notice a disarray
of your keepsakes...history books,
stale cigars, antiques In fluted trunk
all muddily undone:
Somehow, clouds turn deep violet
where I uncover a file of private notes
intimate as your very skin, your breath
marking our years' affectionate episodes--
Till my dire soliloquy, my ached calls
hide beneath an ocean of black stars ,
recalling now, your gentle caresses
that I wake within the rose wilderness
of your arms...forlorn:
Tonight, I fetch a Sauvignon
warming a rainy October dusk --
yet a mirage of sirens greets me
deafened by Fate's ending I cannot hold,
this room swallowing me
In total vaqueness as my lungs pine
for your name I can only hear...
I beseech the sun to undress
the stars, but could my plea
be more strong than theiving time?
How midnight groans like a widow for this loss.
multi nuanced
flavour
many coloured
& aromas to savour
always in the taste
& swallowed
without haste
bottled
magnums
& jereboam,
bouquets
to hint
of lemon & jam
chadonnay shiraz
sauvignon
tempranillo
merlot jostle
in a throng
the trinity
champagne
sherry& port
the latter
stilton's best escort
beaujolais
loved
by the light-hearted
a lingering thirst
&race
to import first
none
can surpass
rioja's reserva
at a thousand feet
oak aged
ripened
in summer heat
Wine of multi nuanced flavour,
Many coloured & aromas to savour;
Final judgment,always in the taste,
Swirled & swallowed without haste.
Bottles,magnums & jereboam,
Bouquets,hints oflemon & jam;
Chadonnay,Shiraz,Sauvignon
Tempranillo,Merlot jostle in a throng.
Wein,germanic,labelled methodical,
Whitesunsurpassed & gastronomical;
Top of the list,Bernkastel Moselle,
As aperitif or with food,just swell.
A trinity of champagned,sherry& port,
The last from political pressure brought;
Once England's larges wine import,
It remains,Stilton's best escort.
Beaujolais,loved by the ligh-hearted,
Crushed from Gamay fruit so red;
Perfect to quench a lngering thirst,
An annual race to the import, first.
Sparkling,still,filtered or fine,
None can surpass Rioja's reserva wine;
From Ebro at a thousand feet,
Oak aged,ripened after summer heat.
MY NEIGHBOR KOFI
LOCATION: Mazamaza, Lagos, Nigeria:
My neighbor kofi,
The computer scientist
At 34,
He crisscrossed, jetcrosed, redcrossed,
And hobnobbed around the globe:
Kathmandu, Acapulco and the Galapagos
He dined and wined
Like there was no tomorrow
He dined and wined
With Kings and queens;
Cuban cigars, dom perignon 59, Cabernet Sauvignon;
Lamborghini Gallardo, Rolls Royce and Ferrari
He saw the world
Through,
Rose colored spectacles
He jetted North, then South
He jetted in Sommer, then in winter
Then,
He jetlagged....
His battery drained
And,
His computer crashed
Then,
The speck fell
From his eyes
He,
Drank garri without sugar
Ate wild mushrooms
And drank bitter lemon.......
He googled his front
And ogled his back
In his minds eyes
He saw a knotted gray tie
And a pregnant woman
He heard a cock crow
But saw a thick blanket
Of darkness cascade toward, over him
He could not discern
Beyond his nose......
He saw the clouds gathering
But no rain
He saw the palm trees sway
Almost to a breaking point
Then,
He saw the harmathan
Gathering momentum
At the lower troposphere.....
He felt the cold
North East trade wind
Hit his face.......
He mounted his green horse
Named: Don Longhorn
Adjusted his helmet
Then,
Saw a thick haze
Of dust behind him......
It tumbled, rumbled, crumbled and cracked,
It thundered, hissed and clappered
Lightening flashed around him
But,
Don Longhorn and Kofi
Forged ahead...
Into the night....
Into a blanket of darkness......
Hide this bottle from me,
That I could drink
This Chateauneuf du Pape
More tempting than the smile of a maid,
this Saint Emilion sneaky
Who has no saint but the name,
Hide this bottle from me,
This haut c$ote de Beaune,
Straight from the Middle Ages,
This rosé of Provence so sincere
Who would make pretty Bretons blush,
In a creperie of Brest.
Hide this bottle from me,
This Sauternes so sweet, so sweet
That makes high school girls naughty,
Hide me this bottle,
That I might well drink,
This wild little sauvignon,
Love is enough to make me drunk.
Cachez-moi cette bouteille,
Que je pourrais bien boire
Ce Chateauneuf du Pape
Plus tentant que les fesses d’une pucelle,
ce Saint Emilion sournois
Qui n’a de saint que le nom,
Cachez-moi cette bouteille,
Ce haut côte de Beaune,
Venu tout droit du Moyen Age,
Ce rosé de Provence si sincère
Qui ferait rougir de jolies bretonnes,
Dans une crêperie brestoise.
Cachez-moi cette bouteille,
Ce Sauternes si sucré, si doux
Qui rend les lycéennes coquines,
Cachez moi cette bouteille,
Que je pourrais bien boire,
Ce sauvignon peu sauvage,
L’amour suffit à m’enivrer.