Zin

I, an intoxicated believer,

recall that seductive bottle of zin.

Rich in color, taste of spice;

sleeping underneath it all, hints of hedonistic sin!

A dark liquid portrait of a poet;

a potent combination, hard edges and soft touch.

Sending me into a trance;
beyond a dream, I can’t recall much.

It's deep complexity, tingles the senses;

utter bliss.

Sweet, warm, and rousing,
reminiscent of my very first kiss.

Bittersweet

Photo courtesy of ArtPics On FB (c) Danielle

The sad song plays, endlessly, on repeat

Like belligerent vine, the lyrics wrap around my head

Each word a thorn, on this crown of defeat

Unhurriedly, the wall of silence is crumbling inside

Echoes I hear, in every darkened corner of my mind

Voices I hear, filled with nothing but lie and deceit

Drowning in sorrow, searching thought the past

I hold back the tears; for no man cries

Burdened with self-reproach, my desperate heart, I so poorly treat

Lost in this song of ghosts past

I am nothing; yet am all that there is!

Solitude, ever constant, ever present, bittersweet!

Vintage Wine

With a lover’s touch, I hold the slender bottle in my grip

The silky ale, teasing my senses, seducing me, sip after sip

The sweet vintage wine flows through every vein

Washing away the scum of this nagging pain

Though the effect, impermanent, short lived and brief

I relish every second, free of the weight of this grief

Impermanence and frailty, give way to immortality

As one after another, dissipate these layers of reality

Drunken and intoxicated, adrift, I float away

Amid the conscious and the subconscious I sway

The light shines through, waning and decay no more

Weightless and buoyant, a feather, briskly I soar

With a lover’s touch, I hold the slender bottle in my grip

I, a traveler, the sweet wine, my only companion on this trip!