Pinot Poems

Poetry in the night

in the late night hours
i like to take things slow
i sip a glass of chardonnay
merlot or pinot grigio

through my bay window
i'm watching the fall of snow

i sit back and relax
setting the lights down low
with pen in hand
i just let the words flow


AP: 2nd place 2025

Ooh ah ooh ah

Razor back clams
she put the veggie
 oil and olive oil
together in a bowl
and put cayenne and
 dried peppers in the oil
where she had
 crushed 10 cloves of garlic
heating the oil to extract the flavors
she let it cook
for 6 minutes
cooling over night
for lunch the next
day she would be entertaining
more than 55 people
for rehearsal
of the orchestra
razor clams
and nutria 
and lsenga
would be the stars of
the table
chef Monday would
cook to the delight of these people
who needed to fine tune
there act.
Stuffed Nutria 
the hindparts stuffed with
crayfish and sausage
a dry Alsatian pinot blanc
to accompany the parmesan and
lemon and pine nut combo
that coupled with crayfish and sausage
I asked my wife what was the best way to
cook a Muskrat and I told
her done. I aint got nothing against the thang
I just wanna do it with people I will likely need there
opio and loyalty to me and I to them
like this opera player
due to there need to
focus and fine tune to be absolute professionals.
the Fox 41 has never lefted us abandoned.

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

on a warm september afternoon

winding down
relaxing with a glass of pinot
enjoying the subtle joys of life
going with the flow
swaying to the rhythm
of mellow music
soaking in the sun
and late summer vibes

and then it's leonard cohen on low
from speakers in a far corner
feeling oozy feeling fine
like an unexpected soft caress
enhanced by the effects of wine
sensations warm and mellow
embarking on a journey of delight

transported
yes indeed transported


AP: Honorable Mention 2024

Nature On Canvas

colour palette spilling with paint on grass,
vision to capture nature on canvas,
makes myriad strokes, eyes strain behind glass,
creates butterflies, pupas with larvas.

meadow he paints with million shades of leaves,
sky is pure golden, light filters through trees,
to add impact, network of twigs he weaves,
he is bending his back, down on his knees.

cider, oak, and others to him unknown,
paints replica of which God would be proud,
sun flower so real, attracts a drone,
soon draws admiration of local crowd!

weeks he took to create his master piece,
each season that nature creates with ease.

Written 4th Nov 2023
10 syllables each line
12+2 lines
Emile Pinot
The Grandeur Of Fall poetry contest
Checked with Rhyme zone for perfect rhyme.
grammar checked- Poetry soup

Maternelle

Head down, ear pricked in curiosity,
The vizard of sleep dancing across
Plump, pink, tired cheeks.

The thump-thump-thump,
A familiar beat, pounds against
Almost-resting ears. 

A sound locked in memory,
One that weathered the storm
Of a troubled infant’s sadness.

Not-quite sleeping, eyelids fluttering,
She reaches out for the warmth
Of mother’s hand.

An exchange of heat awakens
Tactile memories of that same touch
From years long gone.

No longer an infant, nor a child,
But secure in the lock-and-key embrace
Of maternal love.

In mind’s eye, those hands are unchanged; 
Adorned with gold and sapphires,
Marked by a life lived well.

Blonde gave way to grey,
But the beauty of her youth only aged
Like a cask of the finest pinot blanc.

Tired eyes open once more,
Graze mother’s face carefully
And remember every detail.

Mother’s safety is remembered once more,
Tightly wrapped in the memory
To look back upon once more.

For Mama’s birthday.

Faith In Starting Over

Start over 
This breath is new
Even for the despicable
Breathe

Start over
This cup of coffee is new
Like never before
Drink

Reborn again
This body is dry again
The wine in new skin 
As Christ promised 

Reborn again
Temptations made new
Baptized by Pinot Noir 
Humbled

If only I would believe 
I come out the womb again
And again

If only I could believe 
In faith in starting over
One more time

Do I have a choice?
Faith does its work
Till eternity ends

After a Bottle of Wine

the dancing will go on for hours in Greece
we are younger and prettier here
after a bottle of pinot we are more clever too
and our dates get prettier

Singing In the Tub

I'm singing in the tub, just singing in the tub.
What a glorious feeling to scrub-a-dub-dub.
Just me in my bath, with bubbles galore. 
I don't even mind if they spill on the floor.

I've a smile on my face as the stress flows away. 
Great way to relax at the end of a day.
The record plays on as small candles glow.
Dark chocolate on hand and a glass of Pinot.

All the aches melt away as I lay back and drift. 
Best room in the house, as a bath's a true gift.
I don't need a lot, and my small tubs just right.
To help me unwind and sleep through the night.

Welcome To Maison Ruinart

Welcome to Maison Ruinart
be sure and visit our cellar
It is like a dark gothic cathedral
We are one of the best vineyards in France
Chardonnay or Pinot Noir?

The Speed of Gravity

It's pretty fast
unless you are balloon or a feather,
speedy, especially if you are drugged up on painkillers
and have imbibed a few glasses of Pinot Noir
then gravity is faster than a classic corvette
stuffed full of classified documents.

Otherwise it's hard to measure
but in my case
it's about 5'11" and flapping.

I may resemble a lead balloon at such times,
but I'm okay.
if i were an astronaut adrift in space
I would be orbiting my own brain
wondering
what the hell Einstein meant.

Back on earth I am kissing carpet.
I just can't do the gravity-math,
but when the floor hit my face
I cussed-out all modern day physicists
and their impossibly confusing theories.

I am taking 'Red Bull' today, straight from the can
and hope to be lighter than air
any time soon.

Food Is Love

and love is food
come bring your appetite
my lips ready for a feast
a nibble here and there

pinot noir or chardonnay
moist upon my tongue
please don't tease
or wake the tiger

it's a basic jungle rule
yes, food is love
and love is food
under moonlit skies                 



AP: 2nd place 2022

Posted on October 9, 2021

Going On Nine Months

sipping pinot grigio '09
soothing raindrops of beethoven's ninth
washing away the dust of my day

tv on, watching my mudville nine -
two outs in the bottom of the ninth,
mighty casey struts up to the plate

nine muses sip their own fickle wine
come, dance under my oak tree once more
I want to dream in color again

A Spring Breeze

It’s just a shield of glass,
So fragile and barely seen
Entombed by it and more
At bay it keeps new green

No sand to warm my steps
A mask to stop the strain
Sheltered from flower and more
Reflect my windowpane 

Some songs, a tune, a note
And others like these three
Do stir the going stale
And spark a memory

I’ll keep the window clean
While hoping you do too
And long onto tomorrow’s breeze
When spring begins anew

4/28/2020
Spring Rhyme Poetry Contest
Emily Pinot

Untitled Creations

I had a dream, I got everything I wanted
Not what you’d think, I felt like a hostage to my ego
The lobster was better but I never had time to savor it
Puzzles and anagrams filled the padded cell I call my mind
Bulls and bears fought on my tobacco ranch
It wasn’t all bad though
Champagne did wonders for my stress
Life at the beach came with new recipes
My misses was happier there than the city
Her smile made it all worth it
Her touch drove me to madness but the long distance felt like a whiplash to my soul
I still pray, not as often but just as sincere
Detailed plays run through my mind and stage
Perhaps I was a playwright in another life
Or a struggling artist who loves his pinot
We are still under construction though
The foundation is almost done but we are nowhere close to the ceiling
I must admit, I can’t wait for the sequel

JGM

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