Winepress Poems | Examples

Into The Fire I Go

 Into The Fire I Go to wield Jewels Out The Winepress
 from Drudges to Diadems,
 from Valleys of Darkness to Bethlehem
 Upright, Scintillating like Shem in Jerusalem
 Into Ethers of Brahma where the Sun Shines
 Sublime, these Crowns and Feathers of Light
 Blazing Dross out the Matrix to forge the Empyrean
 and bring Heaven to Earth, to Illuminate like Atlanteans
 Ever-Onward, Steadfast in Flight
 to Smash the Veil and Crush the Crux of Night,
 So Glorious, Star Bound I enter the Ethereal Stage
 Vanquishing Ignorance while I play Ukelele
 Golden Harps sound off as I Breach realms beyond the Wild Pendulum
 Into The Fire I Go,    The Eternal Serum

I Am The Sun

 Ever-Upwards, I AM The Sun
 I Am the Sum of One,
 I Am the Total of the Light Force, Ever-So Bright
 Ever So High, I Blaze in Kundalini Fire
 Illuminating Ethers of Life Within
 I Am Eternal, I Am Infinite
 I Am Promethean, Fire Born is the motto
 I wield Boons from the Astros,
 Ever-Luminous, I Am Octillion Mega Hertz of pure energy
 Vibing on these Holy Melodies,
 Ever-Solar, I'm a Cosmo Soldier
 Dropping Jewels out the Winepress, Ever-Forward
 Blazing Hymns of Salvation, I Am Glorious
 I Am Victorious,
 One with the Stars I Illumine the Abyss
 Dazzling in shades of Gold and Bliss,
 Untethered, I Breach realms of Eternal Life
 I Am The Sun, I Am the Sun So High

The Curved Sword

Why the curved sword, Joshua?
"The signal for the ambush,
And a wily subterfuge!

Ai will be reaped by Yahweh.
The whole field, corners, too.
No one will be left to gather.

He exposes Ai's warriors-
The burning city behind, 
The ravine in front,

The king of Ai is a fool,
Leaving the city undefended.
Presumptive pride's defeat!

There can be no refuge,
When there's no Substitute, 
When Yahweh attacks His enemies."

Why the curved sword, Son of Man?
"The Earth's harvest is ripe, 
I must reap swiftly and fully!

Big Lie Country will be reaped,
The Son will proceed to judge,
Earth's bad grapes are over-ripe!

I will swing the curved sword,
Gather in the bad grapes, 
And toss them into the wine press!

Fools say there is no God,
Calling evil good and good evil.
Presumptive pride's defeat!

The rocks cannot hide them,
When they reject the Substitute,
When the Son attacks His enemies."

Then I saw the winepress of God,
Where the blood of bad grapes
Reached the height of horses' bridles
For a distance of 200 miles.

But blessed are those, 
Who die in the Lord,
For there's no sin in Him.
Our Substitute redeems!

Upon the White Horse-1

His eyes as a flame of fire
On his head were many crowns
And he had a name written
that no man knew but himself
And he was clothed with a vesture
dipped in blood
And his name is called the word of God
So I read this two times I needed understanding badly
So I listen  with an intensity
My Brown Eyes shyly read the other page
And the armies which were in the heaven
followed him upon the white horse clothed in linen
White and clean.

And out of his mouth continues to go a sharp sword
that with it his shoulder smite  the nations ok
And he shall rule them with a rod of iron
The Kings on earth  must be loved
The chosen lords in the land
And he treaded the winepress of the fierceness
and wrath of  Almighty God
And he had on a vesture
On his thigh, a name is written
KING of Kings and LORD of Lords!The White Horse
The word of God
I thought about this today.

Winepress

’Twas Martha, not Mary, quite contrary
When asked just how the vineyard grows.
A sanctuary from the world;
that’s what we really meant, you know.
Methinks latinx* can visit here
To trim the vines so merry.
Our food’s divine, just watch the time,
And catch the evening ferry.


*rhymes with methinks, methinks :-)

Winepress of Love

WINEPRESS OF LOVE

Winepress of love,
The grapes are glowingly grown
Stressed-out by winemakers
Deprived of springs and raindrops
But under abundance of sunshine
Paraded like in beauty pageant
And as a greased glittering nettles,
Glitters of one weeds-out weak ones,
Only the strongest survives the scorch
These are the grapes that make the finest wine
The greatest love survives harshest of conditions
Surviving that turmoil makes relationships strong
That is the love that makes the finest union.
Just like great wine that never age.

VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©2016

The Parable of the Tenants

A man grew a vineyard.
He dug a wall around it.
A built a pit for a winepress.
A built upon a dwelling tower to look over all that there is.
He placed it in the care of farmers who will tend to the vineyard and they were made his tenants.
When it was time for the vines to bear fruit, he sent his servant to retrieve the fruit, but the servant was beaten by the tenants.
He sent another servant and he too was beaten by the tenants.
He sent another servant but this one was killed by the tenants.
This went on for a while, servants sent wass either beaten or killed by the tenants.
Until, all he had left to do the simple task of retrieving the fruits of the vineyard, was his only son.
The man thought that surely the tenants would be more understanding and kind hearted for this was flesh of his flesh and blood of his blood.
Sadly, the tenants knew that the heir was in their midst and that they will gain the inheritance, so the tenants killed his son.
The man then came and slain the tenants and gave to others the vineyard as an inheritance.


Date: 06/19/2019

For Sweetness Was His Curse

Sadly she'll never return, dream no more
Woe unto a star fallen without wings
Ever will it sink from the sky to the earth's darkful core
Every pleasant wine is a droplet in wineskins.

Told and retold are the tragedies of love
Nothing beastly doth shred the heart obsessed -
Ever as not being rescued though one would give trove upon trove
Sorrow and pain abides the winepress of sweetness .

Sickly the soul grows old, guitar strings frozen
In a life with just one song through the years
Speak of a heart that will not be shaken -
And quits not, has love, honey turned his bitterest tears.

Groaning upon groaning falls pleasantly as stitch upon stitch
In the moment his weary soul crosses the bar
Realm majestic, departed mother calling canst not him bewitch
Led by an angel he shall cry "Sweetness was a girl. I pray thee a glimpse of her!"

Avante-Garde of Vellum and Ink

THE AVANTE-GARDE OF VELLUM AND INK 

The avante-garde of vellum and ink, like Cupid’s bow and arrow,
Carte blanche to choose the muse we love - imagination’s marrow.

Bullseye of introspection, a deep inkwell — my bona fide intention.
The juxtaposition — a cacophony of the archer’s winepress contravention.

Well-perched anomaly, like high-wire birds, of hitchcockian suspense.
A honeyed deja vu, a kiss well spent, on charismatic common sense.

Ennui, eventually, my pen withdraws, a flatline — without insipid beat.
Paddles renew my heart — this dilettante soon rises from her invalid seat.

My spirit glows rainbow baroque, pearls vagabond dance with abandon.
Ambrosial-sassy elan drizzles like syrup, on sweet spot pancakes land’n.

1/16/2018
Silent One’s Ten Words Ten Lines 2 Poetry
Words: avante-garde, carte blanche, bona fide, cacophony,
anomaly, deja vu,ennui, dilettante, baroque, elan

Hush, Hush

The braying of horses
 of the Knights
Of the Saints of thieves
 and thugs

The winepress of propaganda
 is waning
And there is no more to draw
 from

The silhouettes' of darkness is
 fast fading
The dawning of truth is fast
 approaching the horizon

The rainbow brightening the sky
 again
The skies are clearer now, that
 the hubris is come

The dawn, the unfamiliar quietness
 the hush
The shadows are merging  into
 one wholesome
It is noon; midday at the equator.

It's about time for the blame game
 to end
But it has only just began more awaits
 us citizens

The cards are on the deck, waiting to
 be reshuffled
Hush! hush!! It's the Nigerian poker 
 please keep quiet.

Wining Press

Fiery Jeremiad                                                                                                                                                                               Though Jeremiah lamented for the people                                                                                                                            The people who did not repent will lament far worse                                                                                                             He treads the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God.

Jerusalem

Jerusalem, in the white of night,  
  with all the ages steeped upon your shoulders, 
  and the tombs of fading kings; 
  history has been unkind to thee, 
  and the desert sea laden with endless enemies ----
  thou shooting star who shawn too bright! ----
  how wan the dying rose with Mecca roaring in the wind! 
  how it whispers a new witchcraft.... 

A new shackle the zealots bring, on hallowed ground.... 
  where angels fear to tread, lest they spill blood,
  like the lot of man, the rockets shall bring peace, they say!
  and from the east the Palestian, crushed like grapes in a winepress,
  betwixt Hebrew and madmen; 

'O Jerusalem, how the Lillie's lilt in thy wan shadow, 
  how the purge of men shudders to hear your final breath....
  no sun shines on thee like a risen Christ; 
  no banner he bears but love, 
  no weapon formed but wisdom to silence paranoia;
  lay down your swords, and he shall rebuild thee in three days

'O Jerusalem,
  you old arrid hero,
  who needs but the nectar of peace to heal thy ancient bones,
  an old name whispers on the wind.....

Nothing Still

What at the least do I own
That I can proudly call mine:
My bountiful harvest of seeds sown,
Or the winepress of my vine?

A thousand sheep on a hill,
A thousand herds grazing there;
Not a one of them I own still,
Tho' the ownership I somehow bear.

A thousand chests of gold,
A thousand boxes of silver wares;
And all of them still, I behold,
Are temporarily under my cares.

A thousand lines unpenned,
A thousand notes to my name;
Yet all of them till the very end,
Are but a borrowed life and fame.

For It's Grapes Are Ripe - Revelation 14: 16-19

Heaven sends forth it's angel
coming with a sharp sickle
another angel came from the temple
for the earth were in a right pickle!

This angel had authority over the fire
he spoke then with a voice so loud
to the one with the sharp sickle
gather the cluster from earth's crowd

Having put in his sickle
from the grapes were ripe
so the angel swung it across earth
covering every peoples and type

They were thrown into God's winepress
where His wrath and blood did flow
this picture of God's awful judgement
revealing sin's awful consequence to show


(' Then another angel came out of the temple in heaven, and he too had a sharp sickle.  And another angel came out from the altar, the angel who has authority over the fire, and he called with a loud voice to the one who had the sharp sickle, “Put in your sickle and gather the clusters from the vine of the earth, for its grapes are ripe.”  So the angel swung his sickle across the earth and gathered the grape harvest of the earth and threw it into the great winepress of the wrath of God.') Revelation ch. 14 vs. 17-19 (ESV)

Winepress

I cannot help but jeer and laugh.
Dull knives, and spears, and staves
they raise to praise their golden calf,
while standing in their graves.

So soon have they forgot the staff
of Him Who kills and saves.
They break the law, of stone, in half.
His hand, on hearts of stone, engraves.

Great wrath is poured upon proud braves,
for how each heart of stone behaves.
He treads each stone. A path He paves.
He drags the mighty from their caves,
into His winepress. Made mere slaves.
He drinks the wine His vengeance craves.

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