Finery Winery resides down Amble Bramble Road
they make vintage bubblies created by old Todd Toad
His ideas are unique, his packaging is more than fine
His tasting rates are posted, somewhere down the line
Wizards, warlocks and gremlins travel out to his place
Once I noted a visitor from elsewhere, possibly outer space
Old Todd Toad’s reputation is beyond this planet now
His drinks are unique; many say “a big fat wow!”
Vineyard discovery
Winery cellar somewhere in Pennsylvania
It was an Escorted Tour by Defuncted BISS TOURS
We tasted several wines
The alcoholic Apple Pie wine caught my attention
The blend of ingredient
No nutrient
Senses of aroma opened and taste
I am no wine drinker
I was intrigued in the Apple Pie wine
It was genuine
No bake nor oven
Quality at its best
From the very first sip
That was my tip
Brought a bottle of the Apple Pie wine to take home
Remember and always will of that wine
Didn’t get drunk
First time hearing of Apple Pie wine
Compelling name
No shame
Only the taste taking aim
Tea in the well
Gin in the sea
Spices are floating
In the clouds with me
Get a bottle of wine
And dine with me
Tariff in the big boat
Dancing with me
Vodka on the rock
Locking at my new frock
Whisky in the market
Smiling with me
I have dinner date
with friends and
Company so make
your reservation
before the clock struck three
The fisher man is coming in
With loads of tree
But none of it is for thee
Tarrif in the ocean
Tariff in the sea
Tariff in my coffee
And tariff in my tea
sanction at the winery
waiting waiting for me
winery waiting for me.
She is eighteen and tattoos are the latest rage." I'd like a tattoo please" she asks. I see a young girl in a messy ponytail and wonder if she'll pick something gaudy, then I will have to oblige.
The boldness of youth
can appear so uncouth
yet reveal so much truth.
"I want a tattoo of a winter vine. One that won't fade with time" As the machine begins to “buzz” the armature bar hits the coil and I begin to work. Stretched on her upper arm I notice the discoloration of skin, a slow petering bruise.
Eyes color of snake
she is all heartache
I take a break...
"Why did you choose a vine?" I ask, as the coil tattoo gun soothes her ears. "Last memory of my mom is from a trip to the winery. She told me the sap sinks into the roots and the vine falls asleep until the next year.
the tendril climbs
this is her time
not mine
From her handbag, fifty old crumpled dollar bills. " How much do I owe?" she asks. I say " No charge." She smiles and then leaves, as if on cue...
The tender tendrils spiralling
on the stake
The grapevine weak in structure
Yet the fruit juices makes the
weakest of men the
most valiant in spirits
The choice of vines fit for the
table of the king
Dinners are graced by their presence
Meals are deemed complete by their presence.
The blossom of the vine
is the joy of the winery
Cellars beckoning for more.
Choice wines for the vintage class
The courage of the weak is in
the strength of the wine
A bolster of courage for the faint hearted
(Written 2nd June, 2015)
This Fall the woods in West Virginia
will blast out loud with a blazing plethora
of audible colors
that will begin gently with a rustle
then build upon that painted whispering
into a vocalization of such intense tones
that will eventually POP
! -
raining down a bright leafage of glorious flight,
and blazing away an autumnal sound
of both glory and respite;
an interim death
that will rise up
after a winery slumber with the sweet
green songs of an awakening Spring.
Here in West Virginia where I do not live
or call that place my home,
but visit with a sensitive ear at this time of year,
while I watch the trees rollicking-out
their rainbow party-songs at the edge of loss.
The tender tendrils spiralling in growth
round the stake
The grapevine so weak in structure
Yet the fruit juices makes the weakest
of men the most valiant in spirit
Choice of vines adorning the Kings table
Dinner and dinners are graced by their
presence.
The blossom of the grapevine
Is the joy of the winery
Cellars beckoning for more
Choice wines for the vintage class
The bolster of courage for the faint
hearted;
Is the blossom of grapes of a tender
tendrils.
I feel the world
not going well:
When the puppy from below
barks sadly
lately...
The neighbor cat
remains meowing all day long
in the kitchen...
Here at home we eat
3-day bread ... and coffee
it is always reheated ...
I feel that the world,
not going well:
When I don't capture anyone, anymore
smiling in the square ...
A rare car
moves...
Drowsiness brings down
The Neighborhood...
I feel all badly going instable,
when I observe the winery
of Antonio empty ... he
sitting with Maria dispirited
awaiting for customers in the lobby ...
Without selling anything,
without collecting a
nickel ...!
SHARING
Stopped in a winery.
Splurged on chilled bottle of
sparkling Moscato wine,
salted, crispy crackers,
soft goat cheese to nibble.
Shared stories, goals, plans and
splendid time with daughter.
4/20/21 Pleiades S Poetry
Kim Merryman
Used: How Many Syllables
I said, do you fancy a drink, Tom?
He said where the hell is that stink from?
My dog cocked his leg
We smelt rotten egg
Because he had eaten my stink bomb
*
My cat swallowed my whoopy cushion
He can’t get it out but keeps pushin’
But each time he squeezes
He makes noisy breezes
My mum holds her nose and keeps shushin’
*
They stroll the prom in their best finery
Some stop for alfresco China tea
Silly, not brave
With one big wave...
They look like they’ve come from a winery
*
She gracefully ambled the prom
I’m sure somewhere posh she was from
She patted my dog
Who ‘issued a log’
She left with a lot less aplomb
May England be
a enormous ship called:
"Queen of the Seas"
And that doesn't sink ...!
May Portugal be
a grand winery
in Lisbon or Funchal,
live on wine and
Codfish...
No ... it is not true that Italy is, just and only ... Pizza, a boot and a
crooked tower ...!
Brazil, Brazil ...
It's not coffee, and football
nor wonder beans ...
It is not true that It is
only that ...
It is not just corruption ...
Only actions, and ...
and gasps ... Petrol and
soya ... also
water and car wash ...
But, O mother, you are further ...
You are a manly homeland ... and
your son doesn't run away
fight ...just fight BRAZIL ...!
When the doodle
of the people opine
and the piss spore
squeeze,
there will be fields and tundras
in the deep hollow of
moonlight winery ...
Scope of voids
the crazy ones will say;
Reproaches from satires,
will say the maindenhair ...
But from the bottom of the galleys
veracity will arise
of the few
and the amplitude like microbes
will be reborn ...
Then it will be a new drought,
will govern the atypical;
with the goths, the dievas
without the Gentiles.
No one else will live
this pantomime, everyone
will see solicitude
express in life
on edges ...
Paris today, Venice tomorrow
If I'm out of cash, I'll borrow
The Arc de Triomphe and Louvre
The Gondola metropolis
I'll sample every famous
Continental megalopolis
Stroll the Champs-Elysees
Marvel at glass-blown finery
Smile at the Mona Lisa
Take a tour of a winery...
And when it all has been discussed
poured over, digested
Without you there to share it
'Twas for naught
~ A full refund I've requested
Peaceful morn,oodles of dawn,
Reflecting light,the brown sleek lawn;
Dried,cool and winery gale,
Made a way over dale
The northern wind.
All the forests and flowers,
Dance and crack cheerfully all over the dried bowers:
Out of mind;my pains,
It sway's to drains
Dettering northern wind.
Take;share my pain,
Let not in vain;
Go,share my love and care,
Back rends theirs here it is rare
The charming and cooling northern wind
From thou I'll fell every kisses and love,
Blow wind blow,ceaselessly sans rest,
Thou art messenger,could bring zest
Cease not Lord! The northern wind.
Copyright © Dawa Zangpo | 08/08/2018.
A beautiful ride off into the sunset, and your horse
passes through a blooming cherry orchard bordered by cedars;
your leather saddle was rubbed with high-quality tobacco yesterday.
It's a big herbal cherry sun that is setting, and you can taste it,
with a sprinkling of spices, and the satiny union of the tannins are upon you,
so subtle that you wish for more at first; you must be patient as the velvet embrace deepens, insinuating itself deep within you in a silky smooth process, until a final slow-motion fillip of astringency touches the front of your mouth.
The cork was wet and crumbly almost to the top.
Definitely time to drink this wine; wish I had more.
A great wine to drink in solitary contemplation, or quietly, with friends.
*Robert Mondavi - Rest In Peace, man, you died in 2008 at age 94, and you always believed in making great wine.
Tasting Note written in April, 2015.
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