ForkWordPoems by Inchiki |
|
|
The Lament of a Wine TasterAnd holding Syrah's wine up to this nose I gently swilled to to and fro the cup Then slurped it lightly as the fashion goes Past jaws and gullet for interior deep To strike the gong and wake the poet's sleep But what if crotchety he breaks repose? And only thoughts better not brought up Should swim into my empty mind - oh no! "Wet dog!" I cry "this wine smells like a hound Or some old bone left lying on the ground" And truthfully I speak, but it's not thought well To admit a wine can have an ordinary smell Must fruit and flower burst from each bouquet? My speech is strangled by this branded poetry! 2005 |
↵ index
|