Long Zinfandel Poems
Long Zinfandel Poems. Below are the most popular long Zinfandel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Zinfandel poems by poem length and keyword.
We dine on a bowl of berries
a heart of Almond Roca
and chocolate covered cherries
a glass of White Zinfandel wine
scent of white carnations
Holding his soft warm hand with ease
I s-i-e-g-e he is mine
Will you be my Valentine?
A moment with blowing kisses to each other
Temporary tingling feeling going up my spine
Reminiscing of the pass and how much our grandchildren mean to us
Our nights and days together have always intertwined and still remains
A gift from heaven with a pinch of love divine
Being with you has changed my life with so much love
I am never letting go
3/12/2016
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Zoe?
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Zoe??
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ZOE!!!
-Zz...!
Zane?
'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel?
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Zoe!
-Zz...
Zane?!
'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel?
-Zaxby's
Zalad
Zaxby's
Zalad?
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ZOE!
-Zz...!
Zane?!
Zaxby's
Zalad???
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Zoe,
Zaxby's
Zalad?
-'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel
Zzzzz
Zzzzz
-Zane?
Lyric
Some Things I Can’t Undo
Verse I
You offered understand’n without rancor
My partner, love & anchor
Put’n me first when I’d assume
you liked my tacky boots & cheap perfume
You’d say you loved it when you didn’t
as long as it was me in ‘em & wasn’t kidd’n
Sometimes it hurts think’n back in time
the awful words blurted & out of line
Chorus
Some things I can’t undo
like the achin’& weep’n when I think of you
Sometimes it ain’t possible to erase choices made
Crushed when I’m feeling numb cuz they never fade
Refrain
I was the torch you held high
knowing love’s flame could die
Knowing it would die
Regrets aren’t irreversible, I live with my mistake
God help me cope for as long as it may take
Verse II
Romantic all-night fireside talks
White Zinfandel & alabaster waves breaking on the rocks
Simple times & places we marked
On love’s quest we then embarked
Realizing life ain’t lilacs & roses
I can’t undo the ache that lost love imposes
That bright smile stopped being tender
Carryn’ a brokenhearted Strato-Fender
It carried all memories of what we started
of what ended & how we departed
It makes me wonder ‘bout all of it now
Why we get by what we’ve done, when & how
You said once “Think ‘bout what you want & not
what you think you should do
you can’t unthink something if it’s untrue”
I’m sorry but some things I just can’t undo
Chorus
Some things I can’t undo
like the achin’& weep’n when I think of you
Sometimes it ain’t possible to erase choices made
Crushed when I’m feeling numb cuz they never fade
Refrain
I was the torch you held high
Knowing love’s flame could dim & die
Knowing it would die
Regrets aren’t irreversible, I live with my mistakes
God help me cope for as long as it takes
Of the many things that I like I could go on ad infinitum,
But it would take reams of paper should I list every item!
So I'll confine myself to ten or so things that I like best,
And at some other time I'll bore you with the rest!
I like inscrutable cats and crispy onion rings,
And light classical music featuring melodic strings.
Although some persnickety folks may have their doubts,
Fiddle faddle! I happen to like Brussels sprouts!
I like folks who practice The Golden Rule.
I just happen to like my spouse - she's a real jewel!
I like juicy beefsteak termaters fresh from the vine.
I savor Beringer's White Zinfandel for my taste in wine!
I like concocting poetry though a Shakespeare I'll never be.
I like autumn when crimson and gold cloak every tree!
I could write of pickles and Snickers Bars but I'm limited to ten,
So I must meticulously edit this "masterpiece" and set aside my pen!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 5 in Joe Flach's "Top Ten" Contest - July 2010
Mid-April evening, overlooking Clear Lake
at Chelsea’s Wine Bar, a party of one:
Sipping white zinfandel, I feel the chill
of my half-empty glass while fancy-free
flatware clatters impassive pageantry.
A moment. An hour. Another, until,
on the wooden veranda, I see you take
a familiar draw from your lipstick stained
cigarette. I thought you had quit awhile back.
I couldn’t - and step outside where the
unchanged breeze holds a subtle hint
of perfume. That hasn’t changed. I hesitate,
but then say “hello”. Turning away, you say
“it’s late”. I nod. Unnoticed by agreement.
5/1/2017
For Fancy Free Poetry Contest
On the last Thursday before Labor Day
Janey and Sue-Sue sneak down
to Alison’s beach in Harpswell
to slam bottles against the rocks at low tide.
Only tinted vessels will do like blue Zinfandel
and violet Riesling. I always switch to Bombay
for a day just to vary the hue. One time, Cyndy
crashed the party with some veined cobalt china
and Kristin imported a verdant Tanqueray to the smash,
All for the honky-tonk next summer;
the riot on the rocks, when the ardent hunt
for sin-worn shards of blotted treasure resumes,
certainly, enough to coax belief in Pirate skulls
from unwashed seasonal guests.
Bring your own lunch; there will be melon
on carnival trays and blondies from an old umber tin;
and we’ll dip ourselves in noon tides
while our sweet dappled mysteries
drift back in, and we search for them.
Beneath the laminated heavens built for you and I,
memories in turn of century cylinders are lost and
passing by. They beckon with a wail and personal applause
Inviting you to join, before the day withdraws.
Ignore the early stations, lost in their vignettes -
A reservoir of gemini left purling in its wake,
the scent of east-side lobster served well past its date,
daylight wasting in a condo twice sublet,
and elderflower friends that you have never MET.
Depart at Bowery and look for me -
where excess steam exhales forgotten memories
whispered out by cafes turned to sensory
bazaars, and dissipates among avowals left undone
by boys preoccupied by counting stars, not suns.
Exhausting spirits in proportion to their zinfandel -
Until you wander back by east-side locking doors,
past sleeping cats in midnight grocery stores,
at last to sunken homes with tortoise shells
to sleep beneath the echoes of farewells.
Adorable Michelle
A blonde bombshell
A chic mademoiselle
Moved like a gazelle
Vicious rumours ripe to dispel
Everything between heaven and hell
Around on the carousel from rebel to infidel
Jealous wagging tongues, wasn’t hard to tell
Really she was into music and aquarelle
French cuisine with béchamel and caramel
Strolling shores collecting seashell
Cultivating roses, pimpernel and bluebell
Fell hard for some guy with a rose at his lapel
Who wrote her a crude villanelle
Penned using an old fashioned inkwell
And it worked as a potent love spell
Before the dinner bell
Had her up in a motel
Watching Emmanuel
Drinking chilled zinfandel
AP: 1st place 2021
Zinfandel is a man to me who I see as being fine as wine
And at times when we talk words coming out my mouth
Are not the same words going through my mind
Ok, so he's married, what's that got to do with me
He's still a fine Zinfandel for all the world to see
He's a handsome, dark chocolate with a very sexy voice
And if I catch him behind closed doors
Would I be strong and make the right choice
My arms want to hold him close, his wine I want to taste
But I have to stay focused when I see him in this place
My ears want to hear him speak, his scent I want to smell
And if we were to ever do this, I'm sure neither one would tell
To think of him the way I do, one would call it lust
My body is longing to be loved so myself alone I don't trust
As friends, we are really cool
But to be intimate I really don't need
Cause he's trying to do what's right
And in his marriage he still believes
So why should I come along and be selfish for simple pleasures
And welcome him inside my world to explore my hidden treasures
His eyes say what his mouth doesn't speak, this is what I know
He is very well mannered and friendly and I really like that so
He says he likes to go fishing, for that's something he loves to do
I said in my mind, "I'd like to go fishing, if I could go with you"
But why in the hell would I want Zinfandel
When I know that I don't drink
I wonder why not, fine as he is, as I sit sometimes and think
In case you're wondering, Zinfandel is only just a friend
But if he wasn't married, I'd be glad to let him in.
A VINE IN WINTER
Cut back and trimmed to grow back in Spring
But soon there will be all those signs of growth
Rows of vines up the hillside that started thinner
Next year’s grape harvest may even be a winner
I planted them all by hand, a tribute to us both
And when it comes the time to pick, you’ll sing
Then, at least that voice I will surely remember
We were both working and growing ever closer
Each in our own way, happy that we had begun
Working the grapevines in the late morning sun
She became much more to me than an amorosa
Sharing this Pacific vista, here, in Baja California
For me, this startup vineyard was my inheritance
For her, it was a first real job after leaving school
Yet now as winter ends, I find myself alone again
This weather is uncertain, with just a hint of rain
But at least the grapes do enjoy the morning cool
And soon, a bountiful new crop as a deliverance
As a business, we look forward to be doing well
We were complimented in recent articles online
That she left for another opportunity is a waste
Our first kiss was a hint of that sweet rose taste
How I feel for her is as the last grape on the vine
My private name for her will always be Zinfandel