Best bitters; black bar beer,
Brewed brown but ~
bottled blue.
Drunk dirty; delays drag,
During dark ~
dreadful days.
Though taken through tough times,
Thoughts turn to ~
tingling taste.
Confusing consciousness,
Clear conscience ~
clouded case.
Still sip slow, sounds so sane,
Same songs sung ~
safety strong.
Brains behave beautifully
Breeding bright ~
better behaviors.
A vintage wine’s a precious gift! We see how much remains,
can tease the tongue and ration it (and plumb life’s glass’s curves),
fermented taste that knows no bounds (like one who’s drunk on life)
where naked feet that brave sea’s edge would dance like Fred Astaire).
Yet, human love can bring life joy champagne can’t know, won’t dare,
a rose lacks colors to express (does Safety have a wife?),
births sense that wafts more complex truths than touch our fragile nerves!
Love thrills to taste what Vintner brews within breast’s soft domains!
The sands of time glass meters out define just life, not Love,
for Love, like light has frequencies that obfuscate opaque,
that bounces off of all restraint and pierce what hides black holes
that briefly own all galaxies, frail monsters of intent.
Oh! In the end, is Love what’s left? The universe pays rent
or this life’s dream Love can’t forget? Is this how heaven rolls?
God’s entertainment’s our free will, true bliss when we awake?
For now, we float on matter’s ark, imbibe ‘Return of Dove!’
Brian Johnston
17th of January in 2020
The sun rose early today.
Chilly air makes me miss her.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee along the Herrengasse brings me to rise.
My head aches from last night’s wine.
The street is quiet like autumn.
A sharp breeze makes me think of loneliness.
A horse-drawn carriage echoes as an old man with a tired beard sips a coffee.
The steam rises from the porcelain cup and gets caught under the brim of his burgundy Tyrolean hat.
He sits alone in the cafe and writes about love.
O’ yon lady colorful you are
Still thy head ever-so tilts towards the right
As you hold the book opened end…
You read the passages of yarns
Mysteries and love loons
While also you’re pour sugar into your hot-tea
How colorful you are
Beautiful eyes reading those words embedded in the book wit pages
While also sipping on hot tea
You’re reading gracefully
11/04/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
I was wracked with anxiousness-
The same overwhelming sensation that attacks your body and mind
When you bring your lips in contact with the sticky rim of a cup
Funneling out spirals of hot content warning signs
You try to cool down the situation staring you straight in the face
By puffing out blows of chilling air to numb the subject
It starts to become too much, however,
The anxiousness of finishing what you started and you dive straight in
Closing your eyes to allow the flaming contents fill your mouth to the brink of explosion
Then it is over.
You dive in for another sip in case the first time was just a laugh
Then you realize that the heat has not yet subsided
Allow yourself time to recover before you ruin it all,
With one anxious mistake.
passion sips
tasting
my
lips
all thoughts
chase ing fingertips
tracing delicate flesh drips
mind beyond this next touch
embrace this moment never given up
clouds swirl through our dreaming days
moonbeams twirl into our love haze
shadows dance onto our stage
watching as our sweet love
is
made
time drips
passion sips
?
Ol' Jack Cody was a hard drinkin' cuss
He loved red wine and the whiskey that sips
Met a young lady who made a big fuss
An' gave it all up for a taste of her lips
He stopped his gamblin' and runnin' around
Cleaned up well and started drinkin' sody
Friends shook their heads at this new man they found
Wondered what happened to ol' Jack Cody
Then one day she took her love out the door
Left the old cowboy just scratchin' his head
She went with a gambler, a red vest he wore
An' ol' Jack Cody had one empty bed
Now ol' Jack Cody drinks whiskey that sips
An' don't give a damn for ruby red lips
5/2/2017
Colorful Feathers,
Delicious nectar is found
Wings rejoice the day
Death of Cheer
The world of self-indulgence robbed her day.
She drank some sips of cheer along the way.
Some fellows came with smiles; and I must say.
They need not bother; She has passed away.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 26, 2010
Poetic form: Elegy
rock to rock
small sips
red winged blackbird takes
leaning towards the sun,
Iris protects....
seed to seed
small sips
bluegill takes
below the surface,
shadows protect....
bar to bar
small sips
humans take
battered and bruised,
memories protect....
I lay to waste
The sweetest lips
And drink to taste
The bitter sips
I close my eyes
To the beautiful face
And dream the lies
Away without a trace
I chose to stray
From the heart I hold
And put it away
Like the clothes we fold
I live with pain
From what I’ve done
And grasp in vain
Nothing under the sun….
Two old friends gather
thousands of stories to tell
in between the laughter.