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gracie Sep 2018
Tell me the story of the fawn,
white-spotted, damp-eyed,
lying still on the roadside;
how the forest mourned for days,
twisting and churning its leaves
against the ashen sky.
Tell me the story of tragedy,
wind beneath the wings of Icarus
on his journey to the sun;
how he closed his eyes and smiled,
basking in freedom’s warmth
before plummeting back to earth.
Tell me the story of youth,
wild and tender, dancing barefoot
as though we were made of nothing
less than bruises and blackberry wine;
how I'd let love destroy me,
crashing
the car
if it meant dying in your arms.
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
At times I heard the songs of the giants
who opted to sing for a glass of wine!

Like Omar Khayyam would sing to the grove of vine,
while singing their lullabies they wouldn’t mind,
defying the bloomer stars in the moonlights
gladly treading on the black alleys of the night.
Didn't they budge, didn't they bend to pick up  
a potion of the sea, billowing in the dark?
But they opted out, just for a glass of wine!

To paint a glimpse of that gorgeous Saqi
till now they shun, lending the sun a paintbrush,
‘cause "if only it was colourful enough,” yet the sun
paints the enduring shades of the blue yonder.
But they turned around—just for a glass of wine!

The moon hanging low over the ocean took a pause.
The earth weighed down so deep is brimful!
Every sunrise paints new, loves to shine on once more
That delved-deep earth vintage taste, cooled in age-old,  
now close by the hands breathe in, full of warm south.
Yet they opted out—just for a glass of wine!

Even the time is speechless, ask me not but why.
Still keeps an ear bent on the wall of the leaning sky.  
Nor those who pop out with an inside scoop are ever drunk.
Nor they leak out, it’s a sea off the sea or Abe-Hayath.
It ain’t that small, it is the deathless spring of elixir!
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
Might there be a fountain
where souls long dead from thirst
find spirits raised to life in floods abounding free,
so that what once walked as corpse,
night-bound and blind, may see?
Old self exchanged for Treasure,
diving in tastes such rejuvenation
as can't be weighed by mortal measure—
wine unlike our earth-grown fruit whose petals fall,
from this Vine flowers the pleasantness of Love Divine
which bathes in healing waters all
who come as humble newborn with bold **** to dine.
"Jesus answered, 'Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.'"  John 4:13-14

"Then Jesus declared, 'I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me will never go hungry, and he who believes in Me will never be thirsty.'"  John 6:35

"On the last and greatest day of the Feast, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, 'If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.'"  John 7:37-38

"'I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.'"  John 15:5


~~~

Structure inspired by a poem from the journal of Jim Elliot
Hg Feb 14
spilt on the couch
like a glass of
wine

with perfect curves
for calvin
kleins

her rosé lips
seep into
mine

with every kiss
staining my
mind

till morning comes
i’ll spend the
night

refilling you
my
valentine

till morning comes
with sober
light

it’s me and you
empty as
wine
©Hg

if you don’t have a valentine
take this little glass of wine
cheers
Poppy Fields Apr 2017
**** them, they don’t
have to pay for parking.

My feet have tread there
a thousand times,
but only now do I see
the weight of
my million pictures.

I borrowed your eyes
for a moment,
to think through you
in a drunken view.
Karijinbba Dec 2018
I could say it to his face
all I felt like calling him
good or bad and he smiled
and immediatly I purred.
We even made a wtitten promise
of such enviable love
yet, we didn't put it in practice.

All stressed a Mom deceived battered threatened,
I parrot phrased to him his evil woman's cursing my MOM birthing me, and I lost him
He forgot his old love letter
free speech oath to me.

My ancient king of hearts continued brewing my twenty year old wine in a barrel of heartache and pain leaving me behind amnesic, and death calm.

My Angel ran brewing an older woman's wine
in his bed married to her
wedding band
and in cellar her wine next to mine.
Running from her many a time leaving her with a cold marriage contract handy
while his heart and brain remained ever ONE with mine.

As her personal lubricant got dryer and dryer it was harder for my beloved to be intimate with the ugliest lawliar twoface snake
surgically enhensed
drug user insignificant other called wife.
And as her hatred malice greed and jealousy blew, out of proportion so did her nasty brew on Outer Limits Twilight Zone
along with a breach of his trust
in her,
spoiling her own brewing wine to a nasty bitter moldy vinagar.
Yet to him all her potions remained ever secret
hidden behind smc sunflower smile, daughters and son used
to blindfold her selfish agenda.

Ever so covertly taunting cursing showing hate to me and my children was her banner.
Smc threatened us
by e-mails behind his back.

Blindfolded unoticed all went 
his alcoholic stuppor was foe.

No justice he could brew on either of us yet my wine remained gold fit for kings
but susy viper apropriated it as her own
killing our free will dreams and promises of old.
My wine brewing pure gold
and his other woman smc's covertly brewing hatred where he held her in high regard.
There can't be peace without justice! BEGIN HERE!
if you ask where!
No peace he bestowed upon
his death calm, silenced slandered beloved Karijinbba!
he left behind...Me

Assassination of character is a method lawliars use to
succeed treachery stealing my perfectly aged wine and man

fooling my weary king of hearts
Jpcrdd

I felt so distant and small so,
I let his black hole crooked seol stich anchored to his drunken down free will and bank accounts
JUST HAVE IT ALL!

My dearest beloved deserved that **** viper for being such a low self esteem coward!
blind blndfolded drunk *****.

And I changed my name to
"Amazing Grace"
~~~~~~~~~~
Angelina San-Gutier..is my birth namefor short
(April, 16 10;30 AM.)
~ my Perupecha tribe, Mex~
and my wings Bba=Ginny
5-19 -legally given by a judge
as a witness protection's new identity (not that I was hiding any deceptions.)
~~~~~
By; Karijinbba
All R. R. a memoir excerpt.
Have you been been so heartbroken by the insensitivity of the one you loved that you rejected who you loved the most in this life??

Have you ever been hurt so deeply that you deprived the object of your devotion of everything they ever loved the most to gain in you and from you?
It happensnto passinate firely lovers
like us..but I never **** to hurt anyone.
I LOVE LIFE!
if I didn't I would be
six feet under earlier.
Karijinbba Aug 2018
Love Story byAndy Williams
'Unforgetable"
"I'll Be Seeing You."
"Can't get enough of your love"
"Are You Lonesome Tonight."
I'll Make Love To You"
"What a wonderful world"
Red red Wine
At Last.
"Yesterday" J.Lenon
~~~~
[ Nathan, Joseph-Pat-Rick ]
Close your eyes, make a wish
And blow out the candlelight
For tonight is just your night
We're gonna celebrate,
all thru the night

[Shawn Pat.Rick, J Paul Taylor ]
Pour the wine, light the fire
Guinevere your wish is my command
I submit to your demands
I will do anything, Karijinbba, you need only ask

[ Joseph-Paul-Patrick-Richard]
I'll make love to you
Like you want me to
And I'll hold you tight
Angelina-babe
all through the night
I'll make love to you
When you want me to
And I will not let go
'Till you tell me to

[Wanya, Shawn, Pat-Rick]
my true love AnKarijin,
relax let's go slow!
I ain't got nowhere to go
I'm just gonna concentrate on you the whole night through
My Kariginny are you ready?
it's gonna be a long night.
Throw your clothes (Throw your clothes) on the floor (on the floor)

[Shawn Wanja, Nathan, Pat-Rick]
I'm gonna take my clothes off too
I made plans to be with you queen bee mine Karin whatever you ask me, you know, I could do

[Angel'Q Karijinbba Chinny Chin]
I'll make love to you too
Like you want me to Rickie babe
And I'll hold you tight
My baby Pat
all through the night
I'll make love to you
When you want me to
And I will not let go
'Till you tell me to!

[Wanya,Shawn,PatRick, Nathan:]
Angeli'q Babychin
tonight is your night
And I will do you right
Just make a wish on your night
Anything that you ask
I will give you the love of your life, your life, your life
love of my life.
~~~~
Boys To Men: For:Karijinbba.
start 54-(74-95)-05.end.
This songs I choose to play on my HeadStone...when I die.. To all the man who sang and danced with me.
even if it was only a Scripted love. sigh..PLEASE DON'T LAUGH BECAUSE WHEN I WAS DONE HERE I LAUGHED SO HARD MY TOMMY HURT;so did my daughters.
Chris Saitta Jul 31
Here hang the wine-sotted troubadours of sadness and clouds,
~Having played serenas to paramours lipping at the cup of an evening bawd~
Like tethered donkeys now with their packsong of pastorela and alba,
No more musical mensurations of the ****** Mary, Cantigas de Santa Maria,
But slung over the railings of dawn-blotted taverns or courts of renown,
Here hang the wine-sotted troubadours of sadness and clouds,
Like drinking gourds, their stringed citherns dangle from their shoulders,
Leaking the strummed honey-wine of sound like the retchings of the nearby sea.
The troubadour flourished in France during the Medieval Ages (circa 1100-1350), primarily traveling from court to court.  

The “serena” (evening song for a lover waiting to consummate his love), “alba” (dawn song of a lover), and “pastorela” (song of love from a knight to a shepherdess) are all song forms.  

The “Cantigas de Santa Maria,” the well-known “Canticles of Holy Mary,” are 420 poems sung by troubadours, each mentioning the ****** Mary.  

“Citherns” are essentially the precursor to modern-day guitars.
sara Apr 2018
Cover up the mirrors and I'll find somewhere to look,
rip me into pieces like the pages of an old notebook,
smudge me into ink stains, stick a needle in my eye,
scribble over my mistakes and cross me out with lines.

Turn me inside out to wash and
hang me out to dry,
drown me in a dried up lake
and cool me down by fire,

spit me out like sour grapes,
then leave me like an ageing wine,
just now, I've quite the bitter taste
but I still need a little time.
Catharsis in a poem- felt very grounded after spitting this out
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Yogurt.
"I begin the day buying yogurt in a small favorite grocery store."
Not pizza, nor gatorade.

Bananas
although they are imported from afar and grown in monocultures.
Attract fruit flies in August.

Peaches
locally grown with rainwater. I ate all the farmer's peaches alone
stacking them by the railroad tracks.

Water --
rainwater, tap water, distilled water, carbonated water, spring water –--
deep gulps, infinite sips.

Nuts
in moderation, or not, unsalted, raw, replacing chips. His bowl
of filberts, almonds, walnuts quiet weekday mornings.

Edible plant parts --
roots, leaves, stems, flowers, fruit, buds. In olive oil
or butter.

Potatoes --
look online how best to prepare. Baked or fried. With a little
fish or meat.

Tea and honey,
play and prayer. Swimming and running,
talking quietly.

Bread?
Bread's possible as the Bible. Each is liable
to bloat your thoughts.

Wine and dandelions.
Dandelion wine's Ray Bradbury's story. Cans in a pantry, books on a
      shelf
to the end of time.

Pasta
we used to call spaghetti, never noodles. I wonder if I can remember
      how to make
grandma's sauce.

Tomatoes --
cherry, grape. Grab God's eye
going by.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
Sudipta Maity Feb 23
If I say you girl
you are inside
my neuron world.
Would you belive?
Or if I send you a mail
MRI scan report attatched.
Will you read?
Belive me or not.
The sparking in
my Vegas nerve are not lying.
An afgan ****.
***** to ***
Whiskey to Wine
I had tried everything-
the doctor pescribed.
But,  it's my nercotic nerve
stop receiving all signals
It polarised at my SA and AV node
by your high sugar smile.
Madeline Harper Sep 2018
My blood is a toxin
Toxic like wine
The ink from this pen
Is duly mine

Your name is a drug
My drug and my wine
My body was your temple
Now become a shrine

The harlotry is my venom
The venom is my wine
And for all that I may account
I know I've walked the line

The whisky is my poison
The poison is my wine
And I find it warmer here
Beneath the dying brine

Now my thoughts lay bundled with twine
And here I am, fresh out of wine
If there's poison in the wine, then hunny I'm drunk
Little Bit May 2017
just a bit of wine
but now i'm lying
flat out in a straight line
face pressed against the cold tile
looking over to catch your smile
because we both know
we'll be here for awhile
and that's just fine
i start to cry
because, ****
it's a beautiful sight
right?

you loving me for me
it's crazy
both of us forever free
to be whoever
we want to be
and we still choose
to stand
side by side
each time.

you know i'm right.
Eleanor Rigby May 2018
You are Tequila shots
In perfect desperado
Your days heavy and long

Your nights, sudden aislado.

I am wine glasses
In bittersweet nocturno
My days short

My nights, eternal inferno.

We always swallowed those notes
Like fire down our throats.


-- Eleanor
Diana Garcia Aug 2018
I’m set
All my features
are built to make you wet.
Thick thighs,
An open mind.
One of a kind.
Meant to Be’s
Destinies
All seems like *******
To me.
You feel what
I see
Know what
I mean
Stand out
Move on up
Without doubt
Don’t lean
Back
Or hesitate
Motivation is all you lack
Hard working
On the right track
Back in the day
I used to rack
It’s time I earned my place
Now I’ve got expensive taste
See me dancin’
Grab my waist
Hope you don’t mind the chase
Easy baby
No need
For haste
Take your time
Let me sip my wine
Play no games
Show some shame
Free of guilt
Understand how I’m built
Don’t water a flower
It’ll wilt
I want a man who
Laughs at himself
Who won’t put me
Or my feelings
On the shelf
Hear my wants
Rub my bad knees
I’ll give you all
That’ll please..
A good man
Is all I need
when im all set and good
just need a man whose understood
Joanna Jun 19
The days of wine and roses have long passed, yet the woman, in me, has not given up on finding a relationship that will last.

No longer wanting to keep my head in the sand, I am looking to understand the meaning of this open door.

As the days of loss and too much pain disappear, like smog in the spring rain.

The days of listening seem obsolete, and if so, where is the fruit of resolve versus the constant competition? 

Leaving me to think, Leah has been the center of my day to day routine. And now the days of Rachel's promise must be conceived.
To read more of my writings go to: http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
KiraLili Oct 2016
It started with the single glass
Unsupervised teen on a summers day
Sophisticated youthful rebellion
With Bacchus fermented grape
Warming slowly loosened inhibitions
While dipping into a supple red velvet glass
Even holding a glass now connects me to relaxation
Most uncomplicated relationship
And fulfilling libation
From your pale silken smooth white Muscats
Tempting vibrant aromatic Cabernets
Too full bodied deep thick red Merlots
And hot blooded Spanish Rojas
We go to many places together
Totallly captivated by your legs held in crystal
The sweeter the vintage the longer they are
Rolling those viscous tears over my tongue too music
Laid down in the cellar and aged you are more sought after
Mellower and softer you become no longer brash
Our love affair was quick in youth serving one purpose
Now this long lasting co dependant connection has deepened
Gone is the stained boisterous raw coupling and slamming of drinks
Replaced by long savouring wet warm moments
You had me so long ago at the first sip
#wine #lover
Joanna May 15
The pulse of the spirit is about love. It is not about the rage of this worlds pain.

It is about a life transformed that will never be the same. The voice of healing has nothing to do with what man has in mind. 

The heartbeat of truth and the presence of hope, have nothing to do with a slippery *****. 

And ye,t for the one who will listen, it is about bearing fruit, and a hidden rose about to take root.

The path of peace has nothing to do with less noise, it is about, entering each day, with the promise of ease.
To read more of my writings go to: http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
KiraLili Aug 2016
Golden grape nectar
Cascades warmly around tongue
The last sip is best
Last sip of wine
I concede that the evening is bright,
  That the dawn does not exist,
That leaves were meant to be brown to be beautiful,
  That the sky will always stay blue.

The hurricane that came to be music,
  Windy days that fanned flames.
Can you catch my sighs and I'll keep your whispers,
  So nostalgic is your croon.
  
I taste the skins with whiffs of pepper and plum,
  Where my senses rise leaving me lost amongst the stars,
Giving a glimpse of the eternity of the galaxy,
  Will your lips feel this way?

Like the sights of autumn foliage in portraits,
  I only wonder about your touch,
Muster memories, scenes and scenes,
  Until you're mine not just in dreams.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
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