Heard my dad mutter, a hundred greenbacks,
you trying to give me a heart attack.
For that much money, truth be told,
that dog of yours had better crap gold.
Then dad hemmed and hawed,
grumbled and guffawed,
Wiped his lips and said with a smile,
“Just let me chew on it for a while.”
Pretty soon dad stood and said,
how about I trade you Stumpy instead.
Sonny grinned but said, don’t quite seem fair,
but if’n you throw in Sue, that’d make a good pair.
Then they hiked up their pants leg to sit.
leaned forward over the ash can and spit,
They took another drink of white port wine,
after a while dad said,”Reckon that’ll be fine.”
With a handshake the deal was done,
each one sure they just got the best one.
Then they threw away the bottle’s plug,
and sat there til they finished off that jug
Christmas shopping
Less and less, I like being near people
The café was full of people talking about
How expensive everything is
Buy less is my answer, prices will fall
Until you can afford to buy things you like
To a reduced price
Businesses react to demands by putting up
To rake in when the going is favorable
Wait till the market is sated, then pay less
Don’t be a slave to trends here today
Adverts tell lies about their great product
Nothing ever works, they say it does
If not, whatever it is, it normally breaks easily
Santa Claus was a port wine-drinking man
From Amsterdam making us into silly fools
The Ideal life
Rose-petal lips, first quarter-moon forehead, galaxy face
Dimpled chin, button nose, flimsy jaw, eyes with a wild gaze
Skin that lures and intoxicates, like Tawny Port wine
She's divine. She's benign. She's also a sign of decline.
Created from the dust, she should go back to the dust too.
A bunch of pride and as tentative as the morning dew
Was she Adam's wife? Was she Lucifer's wife? A goddess?
For values, virtues, and vices, she is a prophetess.
Snake, owl, lioness, and queen of hell, mother of Charlie
Signs of courage, femininity, and equality
Dominion over the mysteries of the night and day
Lilith is the laurel, wreath, and bouquet in every way.
I visit them in silent repose,
their memories float on whispered breath.
Bringing the delight of days now gone,
I do not feel the sorrow of death.
Here I can still see his loving smile,
feel his spirit fill my heart again.
I see his eyes dance as laughter spills,
and tobacco stains his grizzled chin.
I’m with him once more in darkened woods,
as favored dogs run o’er creek and hill.
The taste of port wine upon our lips,
we’ll drink until we have had our fill.
I return to her comforting arms,
upon my brow I can feel her kiss.
I let all my troubles fade away,
to be replaced with a peaceful bliss.
They’re nothing more than two simple graves,
no different from any other.
But these two hold all the memories,
of my cherished father and mother.
I hate to do this to you
I kissed the scar tissue
on your shoulder blade
It sits there, port wine raised scar
placed there in a time before I met you
by a lighter held by a long ago friend
You were sleeping still,
the white noise of the dehumidifier
filled your ears with dreams
so I kissed it, the scar on your shoulder blade
You didn’t notice me
placing my lips on that soft skin.
I can’t go on like this, you not knowing
Forgive me, I lost your laptop charger, too.
It happened yesterday, I haven’t told you yet
You just looked so tired, your eyelids
Worst of all, I will probably do it again.
Kiss your scar, not lose your charger
I will probably do it again.
But I will never fall in love
with another person, picking onions in the produce aisle.
I did it all for you.
port wine
moonshine
divine
cloud nine
port wine too expensive - now moonshine
divine floating sky high - on cloud nine
----------------------------------------------
10/08/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Tyburn : Syllable 2-2-2-2-9-9
Alfred and the addiction
Alfred the pianist is my father who denies fatherhood
had stopped smoking, he had a golden cigarette holder
which he gave me I also noticed he hands trembled
this because he had stopped drinking. Usually, had a glass
of wine at noon; for a fortnight Alfred avoided me if
he saw me on the street he walked another way, this naturally
made me feel hurt, my father avoiding me.
He came and asked for his cigarette holder, needed it like a prop,
so he was an actor now I sarcastically said to myself.
He had successfully stopped smoking he could leave it alone
as he was no longer addicted, to prove it lit up a cigarette; he smoked five
while we sat in the park and there was a whiff of port wine in the air.
I`m Sailing
I was sailing along the coast of Greenland the sea was
as green as empty Port Wine bottles when
a storm struck it was a fully automatic boat I batted down
the hatches went below fastened the seat belt and wait.
Before I knew it, I was in a tranquil bay in Portugal and made
breakfast scrambled and bacon, but I was vaguely unhappy
everything has become so automatic that adventures of
daring do had become an everyday occurrence the vessel
had even found the best anchorage with
the best view.
I sold the boat to a doctor who had dreamt a seafaring life
away from hospitals and nagging wife, as a child he had
wanted to be a car mechanic but his parents wouldn`t hear
about it nor his fiancé; a malcontent man who was about to
discover the boredom on the high sea.
I bought a mule that cannot be trusted it doesn`t like people
and every morning it is a struggle to get it to move forward
when I plough my little patch of land
Here we part ways, dear. Sorry, excess makes me sick.
You'll visit me one day as an anticyclone.
We ate cheese drinking Port wine few times a week,
Used to chip in for a new bottle like brothers.
From now on we'll no longer see one another.
I will remember you silly, skinny and weak,
Eighteen, a bit drunk and without a real mother.
We knew only excess, there was no middle ground.
You were cute when you laughed. I still recall the sound
Of days at the faculty when like kids we sat
On beige worn-out window-sills to enjoy a chat.
Each his own boss, yet a whiner with a cola.
We part ways here, dear. It's that around
The corner you continue solo.
I won't come to read the burial. There's green grass
And a lake. The car's in the bush, after you pass
The fill. I don't recall how I made it out alive at eighteen.
I don't know how it feels dying at twenty two even if keen.
See you not-soon! Hard to catch up with you, frizzy.
I watch your back as you leave and feel so dizzy.
In the exodus of emotions
I try to flee human fears
in earth hour.
The sky will not be civil to me.
You had become a dark flame
like port wine.
Who was changing
the skin like a snake ?
I was busy cupping a hemangioma
on the face of a moon.
Tucked between the breasts
a dream fumbles with a cyclone.
One more city dies
in my head. The streets
are walking back.
Satish Verma
Night time
Lost in the night time,
looking for a glass of Port wine,
so I can hide tears of loneliness,
just for one night,
then call upon dear friends,
to join my drinking away,
pretending what we might have,
or to be,
so we cannot lose it,
even if we intend to.
We can master the art of drinking,
but
healing the lonely night,
it's hart to
Missing it all again
Between the raindrops
Beneath the water's surface
Believing all gets ruined
But moving forward just a step
By step. By step. By step
Covers so much ground
To endings & beginnings
Missing it all again.
Port wine tawny red,
My companion pours a dream
between the nightmares howling
A brief respite from the hurricane
Moving, circular and rounding
A corner on Mesa street
Crossroad and corners
between the nightmares
Pouring forth another dream
And respite in your eyes.
Sunlit meadows in the Spring
Are your eyes
Illuminating, captivating,
Springs of clear and sparkling waters,
Quenching thirst and longing
Belonging in the moment.
Sunlit meadows are your eyes
That hold my heart in a moment
Longing to remain forever
With sunlit meadows in Spring.