Boredom,
the greatest vintner of pain
Aged in confusion
served with disdain
Moments gone fallow
dreams unfulfilled
Fatal perfusion
—doldrums distilled
(The New Room: May, 2022)
Categories:
vintner, confusion,
Form: Rhyme
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
Categories:
vintner, faith, love,
Form: Rhyme
The vineyard is planted
The grapes are growing
The Master Vintner
Is tending the vine
The grapes are growing
It won’t be too long now
With Christ in the Kingdom
We’ll taste the new wine
It won’t be too long now
The wait will be worth it
The Master Vintner
Is tending the vine
The wait will be worth it
The harvest is coming
With Christ in the Kingdom
We’ll taste the new wine
The harvest is coming
The wait will be worth it
The Master Vintner
Is tending the vine
The wait will be worth it
It won’t be too long now
With Christ in the Kingdom
We’ll taste the new wine
It won’t be too long now
The grapes are growing
The Master Vintner
Is tending the vine
The grapes are growing
The vineyard is planted
With Christ in the Kingdom
We’ll taste the new wine
*Dedicated to all of us who struggle, even in the victory…the wait will be worth it! Matthew 26:29, Mark 14:25, Luke 22:18
Categories:
vintner, addiction, courage, drink, encouraging,
Form: Rhyme
fog
logs
widely
slowly
on the air
on the bier
touches cat feet
hugs ram soft fleece
the ship lively move
harbor greets as grove
whistle comes in dozy
fog smoke covers noisy
a cup of tea on port gate
barking in cold dog afraid
no snow but the sun feels winter
cubic fog send ray to vintner
paths produces a lot of paths to walk
but untouched all look like great in dark
fog comes and rubs out my sight near and far
lose all to catch up in ghostly smoke bar
-January 21, 2019 Chattogram
Categories:
vintner, how i feel,
Form: I do not know?
Like wine in storage,
The cellar of my perception ages
Buried deep in its recesses
The past and future abandoned
—time no longer the vintner
Fermenting in the immediacy
Of the chosen instant
And distilling in the perfection
Of the perpetual present
—the moment reopens
Bringing with it everything
—and nothing at all
(Garrett Hill Pennsylvania: January, 2014)
Categories:
vintner, age, time,
Form: Free verse
'True Jihad's a holy war, a hope for 'Better World,'
And not just 'tour de force' that aims to see 'your' flag unfurled,
Not party’s bribe, or prison camp where you incarcerate
Those peaceful souls whose inner dreams don't rise to take your bait.
It’s war because dark dragons live in regions like man's heart,
And if you’d join this battle, then one's soul is where to start.
True Jihad is fake if you'd require that others change,
For ‘Holy War’ can never dream of violence down range.
The only change acceptable is when it is a gift
That others bring in gratitude who hope the world to lift
To newer heights of brotherhood, not seeking selfish gain,
Rejecting any path that forces others through more pain.
True Jihad’s a Holy War whose battleground’s your heart,
Discomfiture’s a sacrament, ‘the horse before the cart!’
Humility lies in your doubts, suggests that you’re on track
Of righteousness! A man who’d be a vintner weeds out slack!
Investors that you’re seeking think to look at more than wine
For those who make best partners share your search for the “True Vine!”
Brian Johnston
May 13, 2018
Categories:
vintner, war,
Form: Rhyme
We've grown from the same root
We stick together
like a grape bunch.
Until a final decision is made
Stay in our bunch and enjoy our company.
Grow older, you can become finer
A Chardonnay or Sauvignon?
A finer wine
Made from the roots you grew up in.
Combined through the years
with accomplishments and fermentations.
Grafted with different grapes,
Splitting the vine
Penetrating the other vine through the two diagonal cuts
The vintner assembles the vine
Bonding the two vines to produce something totally different.
So you will take another
As the two vines joined are maturing faster they will lose strength
So our lives embraced together will.
Now their days of bearing fruit are over,
The young branch must bear the weight of production.
So is this lifecycle.
Categories:
vintner, life,
Form: Hybronnet
His stock is rosy red, his nose
Blood-hound sensitive;
Cabernets, Chardonnay,
Muscadet; Bacchus of the industry!
Rolling the names around his tongue,
leaving no Chateau or wine unsung:
Chateau Lafite, Chateau Latour,
Chateau Mouton, Chateau Margaux.
Categories:
vintner, humorous,
Form: Verse
The walker prevails without his brimmed hat,
skirting whirling dervish of hungry gnats
which seek to explore each orifice bare -
to sample the blood from here and from there,
as discerning vintner sups from each vat.
Tackling a gradient sure to task fat
the rambler struggles, with scowl for farm cat
which extended stretch and yawn smugly shares.
The walker prevails.
Somehow, surroundings seem terribly flat -
land less a life-force than foot-worn doormat.
Even the birds have no energy spare;
in the heat of this day, fox ignores hare.
Yet, like strong tail-ender last in to bat,
the walker prevails.
Categories:
vintner, analogy, anti bullying, nature,
Form: Rondeau
Nebulous night dreams
Become modish grapes of wrath
Reap an austere wine
Categories:
vintner, fear,
Form: Haiku
Wasn't meant to be mine...
Or yours, or his
There was none to give
Foolishly longing for what I'd never...
you'd never... we would never be
How so vibrant yet empty?
Compassionate, heartless, evil angel
A lovely contradiction...so beautifully vile
Charismatic killjoy, a selfish philanthropist
A gripping lesson in bittersweet taste test...
This vintage is superb...a velvet mouth feel
Supple body...long legs...sweet kurant and spice on the front
But then tannins tartly dry the tongue
Robbing moisture with overpowering acidity
Dropping my glass, cursing the Vintner...
That I knew and wanted, leaves me a fool
Masochisticly chasing a trail of footprints
...Dissipating as the tide washed away any trace
She walked backwards inviting with a curled finger
wicked smile daring my passion,
tempting my attraction
I knew this game, vaguely familiar
Couldn't place the relevance in my memory
And still I followed....as my footprints vanished behind me
With that girl following them hurt and confused...
Categories:
vintner, love, natural disasters, passionlonging,
Form: Free verse
Strolling of my time in the old orchards rows
Amidst the falling satin whiteness of blossoms
A thousand eyes open…if only for a moment
Longing for a life on Tuscany’s vineyard steppes
Here the vine grows absorbing the lands essence
Ensnaring the heart of those who suffer and toil
Crying for the candor of the evening winds
Freedom of the honeyed lavender wafting heavily
Lost beneath the tight gripping rows of vine
Tucking away within a chimerical paradise
Flavored of velvet lilac hinting of warmed lace
Moments tingling in the splashes of days gone by
It’s first releasing untainted supple perfection
Slowing down the world…if only for a moment
Enriched with native song and vanilla allusions
Pureness of waters touch with the Italian spirit
Relishing the warming of spirit upon the pallet
The essence…the vintner…vineyard…sweet wine
Categories:
vintner, happiness, nature, passion, people,
Form: Free verse
Though I am stranger
By birth and by blood
I felt accepted
Pulling the cork out
I smelled the famed scent
Of the old vintner
Held captive in own
Sweat, when I sipped it
Words flowed out of me
Like the vine dresser
Pure, soft and gentle
For everyone’s heart
I remember well
The sweet echo of
The vintage Greek wine
Categories:
vintner, art, friendship, life, on
Form: Free verse