Long Winery Poems
Long Winery Poems. Below are the most popular long Winery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Winery poems by poem length and keyword.
I feel the world
not going well:
When the puppy from below
barks sadly
lately...
The neighbor cat
remains meowing all day long
in the kitchen...
Here at home we eat
3-day bread ... and coffee
it is always reheated ...
I feel that the world,
not going well:
When I don't capture anyone, anymore
smiling in the square ...
A rare car
moves...
Drowsiness brings down
The Neighborhood...
I feel all badly going instable,
when I observe the winery
of Antonio empty ... he
sitting with Maria dispirited
awaiting for customers in the lobby ...
Without selling anything,
without collecting a
nickel ...!
There is a picture on the wall that looks like an old vase
It has winery floating in the sea and a mountainous landscape staring at thee
The picture on the wall has been there, but no one ever seems to care
Its eyes are growing dim, the lines are fading and the color has bled out of the frame.
I am falling asleep not because I cannot sleep
I am falling asleep because the sun has dried the moisture out of my feet
The traffic is running slow and the people are getting ready to go
Everyone is going somewhere but they are not going anywhere
When they reach the stop, the universe instantly reverses the clock.
And they end up in the same place
that they were a minute ago before the start of the show
There is a picture on the wall that you must see
for it will explain the universe to thee.
There is a picture on the wall that you must see
For it has a profound message for thee
It has been there for more than a century growing dust
And keeping many people happy, the curator knows the history of it
And the legend that surrounds it, it has a magic feel to it
and a sensual appeal that evokes the ancestral spirit.
The author is unknown for it was painted before
Queen Elizabeth the second ascend to the throne
Lenardo da Vinci Pablo Picasso, Vincent von Gogh,
Claud Monet is part of the Mystery surrounds the painting.
The painting is real and it is protected with a seal
it has no connection to the story of the Da Vinci code
its value is not known but it cost more than what is sitting in the louvre in France
and half of what the British museum has, it's nothing like a tapestry, it is a painting
that makes people happy; the precisions are clear, but it's covered with dust and you
must take it out of the rut.
The picture on the wall is laden with mystery; the picture on the wall is embodied
with history; you must bring it back to life so that the human race can survive
It has a profound message for you, and it will help you recover your lost pair of shoes.
There is a small town called Egg Harbor City
situated in central Atlantic County.
It is in the east coast state of New Jersey.
Within is the renowned Renault Winery.
Makers of wine for more than a century,
Their products possess the utmost quality.
They produce champagne flavored with blueberries.
This unique product possesses qualities
that allow the wine to compete with the best.
Its flavor makes it stand out among the rest.
The state’s best blueberries gives it a nice hue
It’s naturally sweet with its color of blue.
Wine has been bottled since 1864.
When you’re there the first time, you’ll be back for more.
The tender tendrils spiralling
on the stake
The grapevine weak in structure
Yet the fruit juices makes the
weakest of men the
most valiant in spirits
The choice of vines fit for the
table of the king
Dinners are graced by their presence
Meals are deemed complete by their presence.
The blossom of the vine
is the joy of the winery
Cellars beckoning for more.
Choice wines for the vintage class
The courage of the weak is in
the strength of the wine
A bolster of courage for the faint hearted
(Written 2nd June, 2015)
Down dusty dirt track
there was the winery
A rusty tin shed.
"Petulant Fandango"
It said on the sign
"Gidday anyone Home?"
"Hello, there,
sorry I didn't hear you come."
With that we stepped inside.
Five folk were already there.
It looked like a party
rather than tasting as such.
The old wooden table was covered in
wine bottles, which like the guests,
were in various states of fullness.
No tiny tasting glasses here,
full size wine goblets were the go.
"What are you after"
"What tickles your fancy"
"I'd like to try a dry, dry red please"
Shiraz if you have one."
"No worries I have just the drop"
"Give this a Go"
With that a thick black-red wine was poured
from a dusty bottle covered with gossamer spider web
into a glass, a tad dusty as well.
With first sip the wine made me pucker my lips
as the wine sucked all the water from inside my mouth
instantly dry, dry, dry.
"What do you think of that one Mate?"
You're right its certainly dry!
Bit like paint stripper I thought.
With that, I joined the party
to try some of the other wines
all with their unique terroir
of rough, dusty, earthiness to the fore.
I left a little tipsy after buying
several bottles of their best vintage
destined to be use in cooking.
Nice day tasting dusty terroir.
This Fall the woods in West Virginia
will blast out loud with a blazing plethora
of audible colors
that will begin gently with a rustle
then build upon that painted whispering
into a vocalization of such intense tones
that will eventually POP
! -
raining down a bright leafage of glorious flight,
and blazing away an autumnal sound
of both glory and respite;
an interim death
that will rise up
after a winery slumber with the sweet
green songs of an awakening Spring.
Here in West Virginia where I do not live
or call that place my home,
but visit with a sensitive ear at this time of year,
while I watch the trees rollicking-out
their rainbow party-songs at the edge of loss.
I have sent a special letter to you
To remind you of what you ought to do
I‘ve sent it through the express mail
So, search diligently for it until you find it
The market is crowded
And you cannot sell iron for profit.
The hours have already come
When you must make that final run.
I’ve sent the letter to you,
to tell you that my long
-awaited dreams have come true
I’ve sent the letter to you,
To tell you that the mission has survived
I woke up this morning with courage in my head
And found water running in the bed
The street was clean and neat
And the people for the first time
display a sense of purpose in the street.
For the first time I felt a different mood in the town
And reality starts moving around
I did not know what to say,
So, I kept silent least my heart gave me away.
I pretend as if nothing was moving way.
As the morning rise,
heaven became my new “bride”
And I reach towards the benevolent sky
But the sweltering heat
was already creating havoc in the street
and sweat start dripping from my face
soaking the entire human race.
The plants are beckoning for some peace
And workers have assembled in the street
waiting for the chance to find work outside of town.
The winery is where you ought to be
their goods are languishing at sea
small businesses are hanging on by the thread
so proceed with caution otherwise they will soon be dead
give them a business loan
to elevate their business back to the throne
and take them back to where destiny roam
I have sent a letter to you about a lawyer
That is walking on the street without shoe
The situation is so sad,
but at the stroke of a pen,
you will make the heavens glad.
Open the letter today
for I want the final ok
So that I can go away.
I‘ve sent a special letter to you .
Never been to Tuscany
But when it comes to wine,
Napa and Sonoma
As a substitute are fine.
Even on a rainy day,
The rows of endless vines,
Combined with endless hills
Create magnificent designs.
At every winery, you sip
And sample, sniff and taste.
What you don't like, you simply toss -
A necessary waste.
I wonder what they do with all
Those rejects in that bucket.
Of course, they say - end of the day
They take that wine and chuck it.
But maybe when the tourists leave,
They bottle what was tossed
And sell it as a "special blend"
At some expensive cost.
So think of that when next you sip
And when those thoughts appear,
Just follow my example - say,
"I think I'll have a beer!"
She is eighteen and tattoos are the latest rage." I'd like a tattoo please" she asks. I see a young girl in a messy ponytail and wonder if she'll pick something gaudy, then I will have to oblige.
The boldness of youth
can appear so uncouth
yet reveal so much truth.
"I want a tattoo of a winter vine. One that won't fade with time" As the machine begins to “buzz” the armature bar hits the coil and I begin to work. Stretched on her upper arm I notice the discoloration of skin, a slow petering bruise.
Eyes color of snake
she is all heartache
I take a break...
"Why did you choose a vine?" I ask, as the coil tattoo gun soothes her ears. "Last memory of my mom is from a trip to the winery. She told me the sap sinks into the roots and the vine falls asleep until the next year.
the tendril climbs
this is her time
not mine
From her handbag, fifty old crumpled dollar bills. " How much do I owe?" she asks. I say " No charge." She smiles and then leaves, as if on cue...
I said, do you fancy a drink, Tom?
He said where the hell is that stink from?
My dog cocked his leg
We smelt rotten egg
Because he had eaten my stink bomb
*
My cat swallowed my whoopy cushion
He can’t get it out but keeps pushin’
But each time he squeezes
He makes noisy breezes
My mum holds her nose and keeps shushin’
*
They stroll the prom in their best finery
Some stop for alfresco China tea
Silly, not brave
With one big wave...
They look like they’ve come from a winery
*
She gracefully ambled the prom
I’m sure somewhere posh she was from
She patted my dog
Who ‘issued a log’
She left with a lot less aplomb