Continuing with Summer Project #1: A Poem A Day
Wine
One wine tastes of smoke and oak.
Think cinnamon
cocoa powder
and pour me another while you’re at it.
Another smells of roses and chocolate.
Blooms in the mouth
coming to full flower
only after half a glass is gone.
Now this wine wants to hitch a ride
home with me
and stay the night.
I will let it slip in between the sheets with me,
but I shan’t ask it back again
as it is far too forward
and only interested in pleasuring itself.
Another, feisty, errant, wants to pick a fight.
Kicks down the door,
ravages tongue
roughs up the gullet
and demands a second chance.
One in particular is impertinent and
needlessly pretentious.
Cloaking its damaged ego
in manufactured self-importance,
hoping no one will notice
it is betrayed by cork and bottle,
tainted through and through.
But this one,
this one
wants to caress my lips
linger on my tongue
warm my veins
flush my cheeks.
This one wants to make love to me
slowly, purposely
without cessation.
I will let it have its way.
© Birdstory Publications, 2008
Summer Project #1, Day 2, Poem 2
One wine tastes of smoke and oak.
Think cinnamon
cocoa powder
and pour me another while you’re at it.
Another smells of roses and chocolate.
Blooms in the mouth
coming to full flower
only after half a glass is gone.
Now this wine wants to hitch a ride
home with me
and stay the night.
I will let it slip in between the sheets with me,
but I shan’t ask it back again
as it is far too forward
and only interested in pleasuring itself.
Another, feisty, errant, wants to pick a fight.
Kicks down the door,
ravages tongue
roughs up the gullet
and demands a second chance.
One in particular is impertinent and
needlessly pretentious.
Cloaking its damaged ego
in manufactured self-importance,
hoping no one will notice
it is betrayed by cork and bottle,
tainted through and through.
But this one,
this one
wants to caress my lips
linger on my tongue
warm my veins
flush my cheeks.
This one wants to make love to me
slowly, purposely
without cessation.
I will let it have its way.
© Birdstory Publications, 2008
Summer Project #1, Day 2, Poem 2
posted by Bird | 8:12 AM
5 Comments:
i like the first and last wines... cinnamon and cocoa? veddy interesting. i can roll with a good flush as well. how are you boyed?? baseballs weird this year - for the braves. so good to see you -and yes the kitty has to GO. grrrherhahaha
so, a poem a day. maybe you'll fare better than i did with my painting a day project. what was that, like 3 months ago? still stuck on nine. grrrerhahaha
that red, the burgundy, that white and green
the sickest sick ive ever been
flowers and skins and cocoa and oak
a grapey concoction that makes me choke
gimme a rum
or tequila for fun
cosmo mojito
liquid burrito
anythings fine
'cept wine!
grrrerhahahahaha
nice poems boyedie. remember you as a lovely birdie laying on a pillow with a glass of wine writing by candlelight?
xo
You may have stumbled upon another vocation. Your descriptions of wine are far more interesting than the claptrap that purports to describe the contents of most bottles.
Please disclose the one that is described last. I would be willing to purchase something as sensuous as that.
hey there she - do i remember the boyed with pen, pillow, wine and candlelight? of course - as well as bird with thorn impaled in chest. how well you captured me once upon a time. i still am the boyed of pen, candlelight, pillow, and wine, but the thorn's long since been plucked out and the wound healed quite nicely. only aches on rare occasions - like an old war wound.
love your poem. perhaps it will inspire my day three poem - hahaha!
jack - i will hunt up the name of the last wine. i know the vineyard - but not the year and such. stay tuned.
Cool!
go giants!! theyre my #2 team.
im so glad to know the thorn is but a memory. yay boyed. i think moving has really been great for you too -creatively. the city you love has made you even MORE alive.
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