Poems of the Vine
GRAPES OF MY LIFE
Grapes unpicked
wither on the vine
Too long on the shelf,
they shrivel and sour.
Cradled in an oaken cask,
their sweet intoxication is born.
My heart waits for love,
left behind to die in the dirt,
picked and discarded randomly.
I would be as a fine wine,
cradled in the cask
of strong arms
and fruit tinged love.
IN VINO VERATIS
Gnarled vines creep along the mist
hold a touch of romance kissed
patience needed to bring fruit
vigilance-the work takes root.
Pruning each with special love
pray for raindrops from above
later when the time is right
pick the grapes at flavours height.
Oaken cask will hold the proof
aged competes well with youth
slip the softness o'er your lips
end result of vines in mist.
SIPS OF LOVE
Just a little Merlot
and a goblet of you
then perhaps I can show
all that I long to do.
Temptations of longing
and a rich ruby wine
inhibitions melting
Ah, my love, you're divine.
Reddest dark fruit of vine
nothing quite will compare
but a love lost in time
found in you, if I dare
THE VINTNER
The aged vintner paced the arbor
noting just the areas in need
with some extra pruning, tender care
years of experience he can read
symptoms of malaise before too late
prevent the rot from over growing
weed out the bad, enable the good
to flourish, keep the rich wine flowing.
Such gentle care of vines of the heart
can cure what seemed a hopeless disease
touched with love, almost all may be healed
the vinemaker, with true vision, sees.
FRUIT OF YOUR VINE
A taste of succulence grown tart
a sip of much too far apart
Your dryness hints of Chardonay
a touch of oaken love today.
Drops of Merlot upon my lips
the sweetest love turned bitter kiss
Inspired by thoughts of Cabernet
there was no wine to make you stay.
Your fruit grows heavy on the vine
Oh, what I'd give to thusly dine
As every draught of new Gamay
becomes a hideout from my pain.
Subtley, you stopped tasting fine
became a jug of Gallo wine..
A FINE DRINK
I pour a goblet of bordeaux
dressed in black lace I wait for you
to dine in fantasies delight
and taste of lovers joy anew.
Your flavor is Dom Perignon
the finest ever in my glass
a hint of bubbled ecstasy
a drink you are, of special class.
I sip you slow between my lips
I feel my head becoming light
as eveything you have I take
your wine, as ever, my delight.