Short Champaign Poems

toys scattered   
champaign glasses empty 
New Year rolls in...

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popped the cork with ease ….
pâté’ and flaming Greek cheese
champaign makes me sneeze...

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A Contemporary Haiku

giggles from the covers
champaign chilling
walkers beside the bed
...

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Let me tell you about my day...
Maybe it was as light as air;
Not too rough, not too contrary-
Oh! You look dubious? Let's just
Pop that cork, it's time for champagne!...

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Stars are so very far away, so far
For I have reached to one in vain
She pampers me when I sleep, this star
Sprinkling dreams with pink champaign
And when I awake, I am always to find
She tiptoed away with the moon again
Leaving smiles there in my mind...

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From youngsters to seniors,
Free or behind bars,

Persons traumatise,
By sickness,from wars,

Recovering from drugs,
Healing deep scars,

Or just chilling,
Drinking wine with caviare,

I had a dream,my poems,
Read near,read far,

Even by aliens,
Sipping champaign,
On nameless stars......

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Forever More


We each now hold a glass,
Cheers to you my love,
Amazing darling love.
Now, each together,
make a unit of one.
Complete together,
A full champaign
glass. Just as,
we are one.
My dear,
You
hold
now
my 
heart,
my, love my life.

Linda Terrell
March 24, 2010...

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Slay poor men’s dreams lest hopeful themes gain sway -
     make up self-serving laws to flaw their take
Fray each mashed man’s reach with sharp wished decay -
     break all freewill just for overkill’s sake
Downplay pained lives with Champaign or Broadway -
     slake sick wits as befits life as a snake

Why do greedy ones have need to see us fry?
Why do their egos require simple man's sigh?


...

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drinking champagne 
in a savage champaign
before I was born
after I died
through magnetic fields
spinning
charged
specially relative
that's why my name
is written on them
I wander north 
and south of course too
following the streaks
with exquisite corpse
and synapses behind
though with no sense
in a parallel universe
invisible
but still there
real or unreal
through land
and through nothing...

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By the gray rivers flowing, the recently revived,
bob along like Champaign corks in the swift current.

The dead always pop too soon,
even when
you pull their corks with long lamentations.
The fizz-fuse keeps burning.

Morning finds them on-going,
restored and drifting among the detritus
of our own sad endings.

They are not ghosts, you gave them names,
but they do not answer when you call.
They instead, bump against the riverbanks
endeavoring to once again, come ashore....

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The worlds a stage
Mere players in this arcade 
Dear Mama I’m your created player in this game 
Don’t pour out a lil liquor pour out Champaign 
Till the cradle 2 da grave
Everyday the world gets more strange
Or strange things gets more normal
The devil sends more forces to forge my journal 
Fire inside me burns eternal 
More fiery fire to the flames my thirst grows
Writing music my nerves the notes
Dark world no love for Romeo
Juliet got jewels of stones 
Wisdom to crown her...

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