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HeronBlue Apr 2018
Fermenting
About to turn twenty two
how long has it been since I learned to tie lace of a shoe?
how long since I learned the best way to live is without a clue

I feel just like ten
why does school seem to be so distant and fragmented then?
Like a memory long unpolished yet bright. I'm older all right.

Nah, I feel like fifteen
why, then, for happiness do I turn to a five-inch screen?
should be out in the field if I am a teen
why doesn't the city, colors and friendship seem evergreen?

Eighteen?
nope. too dry to cry
a river thinking the world is mean.
Now I cheer for both the men fightin'.
With inner peace comes bloodlust ridin'

So this is what it feels like to be twenty-two!
Not bad. one-third gone and now left is another two 'twenty-two'
till I bid this consciousness adieu.
The Napkin Poet Oct 2017
I  grabbed the teal towel
Your naked body had been wrapped in last
Used your slimming bar of soap
Conditioned my armpit hair like you do

I even swirled shampoo in the palm of my hand
Because today is my first shower without you

My back will not get washed
Your wash cloths will stay folded
Still on top of the glazed porcelain
And only one lofa will get sudsy and wet

I think i'd rather ferment in my own sweat
The Napkin Poet Dec 2016
To make wine,
Grapes are crushed then poured into fermentation tanks.
Once fermentation begins, the grape skins are pushed to the surface by carbon dioxide gases released in the fermentation process.

I am the only fruit who has the necessary acids to make natural, stable wine.
My tannins add a bitterness and astringency,
But I must be picked at the right time.
My acidity and sweetness must be zen in balance.
The right ones are sorted through, but not all of us make the cut.
Unable to be served as sweet wine, too bitter.
Some more sweet, not bitter enough.
Simply picked at the wrong time, their peak unwanted, forgotten.

After being sorted we are destemmed and crushed.
Our roots ripped from us, dignity stomped upon.
For years, it was done manually, by foot.
Now, preformed mechanically, systematically.
But hey!
"Mechanical pressing has brought tremendous sanitary gains as well as increased the longevity and quality of wine."

Grape abuse continues, white wine grapes are quickly crushed.
Why do you ask?
To keep unwanted "color" from leeching into the wine.
But red wine,
Red wine is left in contact with it's skin, forced to acquire more color, more flavor and additional tannins.

After being sorted and crushed, I naturally ferment with in six to twelve hours.
This continues until all my sugar,
Is converted to alcohol.
To produce dry, wine.

The final stage is aging.
I am bottled with a cork,
Put on a shelf.
And ironically,
await my optimal fruitfulness.
Ella Gwen Sep 2014
I will be nothing for you

No smiles in the darkness
Are to be found on these lips
Lips which curve all too readily
When laughter lingers

Eyes will venture elsewhere
And my feet will follow
For to stay still
Is to degrade;
             to ferment

Even though fermenting
Could yield the sweetest things with you.
Stephen Apr 2014
Yeah these words flow through me now

Now they fall off my fingers like shedding skin

Get caught in my throat and fall back down through my neck

When I try to say them

So they ferment in my soul

— The End —