NO WINE FOR ME
No wine for me, I must most vehemently decline--
But, oh, I wish your moistened lips were mine
These vintages he offered me are pale--
You are the prime intoxication I inhale
The wine you offer may be considered sweet
With it most meals would be gourmet complete
I could be sated it is true--
If my tongue could sing with aftertaste of you
So humor me and take a little sip of wine
Then I will make your rivulet of passion mine
For then your wandering lips have blessed this glass
and from you to me-- that afterglow will pass
Categories:
vintages, love, me, wine,
Form: Heroic Couplet
When I find time to meditate
to write a line or share a verse,
upon the vine or on the grape,
to concentrate upon the dirt,
surrendering this lovely grape
tenderly nurtured on the vine
in vintages of earthy brew
delightful, deliciously grown,
this mortal milk of mother earth.
Yet, blank this paper facing me
and blank the face, this paper sees.
Sees this poet's blank paper dreams.
Pen and ink, my bridge to paper,
this bridge to cross, my destiny.
This cross I bear, a word my key.
The new key I seek all of the time.
A time lined with appled orchards,
on a hill lined with grape filled vines.
Categories:
vintages, funnytime,
Form: Free verse