The ageless will blush from the wine
Their memories hang lush on the vine
Where riesling romantics
Meet dry red fanatics
These vintages will ferment just fine
wine poured in glasses
riesling trickled like raindrops ~
sparkling at sunrise
#4
Sipping Riesling sitting on a sandy seashore
Soaking in sunshine, as rolling waves play the score
Seagulls and seashells helping set the scene du jour
Soft blowing sands sticking to the sweat from my pore’s
Slip into the sea to wash away sand and more
Seawater a salve for life strife’s we must endure
Simple tranquility the seashore’s great allure
The days of
wine and rose's
enchanted pose's
I think of you
nothing added
nothing taken away
my thoughts follow you
wandering about
what's left from
the midst of your
melancholy mannerism
captured beyond
wholly adversity fallen
desperately on infamous
tangible chatter over
wiener schnitzel
sour dough bread
potato soup and
a crisp Riesling
over looking the
Bavarian alps mourning
Oktober hidden glances
broken chance's in this
moment we simply are
the very best of ourselves
we are noble willing
challengers on a voyage
beyond this ravished
wildlife mythical muse's
subtle faint hues filled
with yesterdays blues
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
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.
Do you remember, dear, we were young
It was dusk and we’d gone horseback riding
Stopped to sip riesling wine
Nibble grapes and cheese
With much passion you unfurled your intentions
Detailed how you saw the future together
Getting married, building a house
And then maybe children to call our own
You asked me to consider it
I said there was nothing to think about
So it was that with a kiss we sealed the deal
There was no greater honour in my heart
And on the outside I know I glowed
For we both knew we were creating history
AP: 3rd place 2022
Submitted on March 3, 2018 for contest EIGHT-WORD CHALLENGE sponsored by ROBERT HAIGH - RANKED 9TH
Dark honey tanned skin glistens
From the moisture of humidity.
The ladies flirt shamelessly with
You, but your eyes gaze upon me.
Your stature looms at six foot three.
Your swimmer's shoulders impress.
In our island sea we swim leisurely,
Traces of salt remain as you dress.
White sandy beaches, ever your haven.
We sip Riesling as the stars appear.
Nestled in your arms, time takes flight.
I feel so safe when you are near.
Your strength amply hides a tender heart.
The depth of your voice all admire.
When we first met I became enamored,
Feelings that quickly turned to desire.
We have shared so much over the years.
More happiness than dark sorrows.
Family treasures that brightly shine,
Reigning with love into our tomorrows.
In the autumn of our lives I feel the chill
Of winter's inevitable harsh advance,
Yet days of youth remain in our hearts,
Memories held, that time shall enhance.
Poem of the Day October 27, 2017
Late October Standard Contest-Third Place
Sponsor Brian Strand
She's as smooth as glass
With gentle curves.
A fine crystal that sings
With a moistened touch.
She's a sweet moscato or riesling
With bubbles that giggle when she smiles.
Or maybe a mellow red
That leaves a taste that asks for more.
She warms my heart and soul
And shows me new steps on the floor.
Her sweet plump fruits catch my eyes
And caress me through the night.
Tomorrow she will welcome me again.
A love affair and not a sin.
Fresh unpasteurized sauerkraut
(so probiotic!)
Cooked slowly with sausages,
Potatoes, and ham;
Sweetened with Riesling
A pinch of
Cloves
Used to live in
Strasbourg:
9, Quai de Paris.
The piers in that
city
Were on canals.
Window flower boxes
On Alsatian cafes,
Choucroute garnie
entres
With onion tartes.
Venders sell hot
chestnuts
In Orangerie park.
I'd sight-see after
dark
La Petite France.
Notes: Choucroute
garnie is sauerkraut
slow cooked with
Riesling white wine,
potatoes, ham,
sausages, and
cloves. Tarte a
l’oignon is also an
Alsatian specialty.
La Petite France is
the canal district
that had many
tanneries which now
are tourist shops
and high-end
restaurants
Riesling whispers, bated
breath,
Sapphire lies in blue.
Dreams and nothings, humid,
swear,
What's a girl to do?
Dangling from dew stained
strands,
Honey drenched promises.
A kiss, a sigh, venomous faith,
Submissive dominance.
Saccharin sorrow, chocolate
and tears,
Drowning, bittersweet.
Praying to the gods below,
Let her taste defeat.
Chianti screams, suffocated,
Amber smears of truth.
Dry reality, every silence,
The antiquity of youth.
I see so constantly
the mother I wish not to be
a trainwreck citing meat too lean
malnourished and mis-wed by seventeen
I am the feet that swell and sore
under plum-bruised body and broken back
an assembly line of plastic doors
for plastic cars on plastic tracks
and I breathe the bright ladylike sea;
drown in her Riesling spindrift air
for I am dying words of ennui
so trite and unaware
an impromptu speech
to Father - I've planned for seven years
the words I thought would safely breach
my stiff and stilted fears
and name this ugly rabbit's foot
painted black by years of soot
I am the God of captious rancor
the necrotic rot you've been searching for
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