Quotes about vintage, page 6
A Reverie
(An Acrostic Tribute In Respect Of Saman Roy)
Sweet honeyed words slip
Adding to the enthralling charm of her
Mellowness, rarely bestowed to womankind
Animating the latent passive hearts:
Nourished, drunk the vintage cold.
Reverie of the ajar awakening eyes,
Officious, open-hearted and honest
Youthful, yet sagacious and coy.
Saman Roy, Saman Roy, Saman Roy
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Harriett
Your sweet love budded and blossomed,
And it came to me with an aroma;
So, i am nearer to you like the hill of Moreh.
Your love is like the vintage harvest of Abiezer,
And of a moldy loaf of barley to share with;
But you are encamped in the valley of Yezereel.
Oh Harriett my love, I only ate a little of your honey;
And now, i have found out that it is sweeter than money!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Fire, Fire! The Earth Is On Fire!
Fire, fire! The earth’s on fire!
Pass me a bucket and join the queue
if you don’t then things will get dire.
The savannah, the Hague and the few
polar bears will soon be gone.
‘Where are the fire engines you ask? ’
Well every time you or I do a bucket run
a CEO can buy himself another cask
of vintage Burgundy and his wife a gold locket
because he owns the rights to all the buckets.
poem by Blogging Paper
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Flashbacks
All it takes is Laura Riding's riding-
crop across my butt, and I'm off:
Git-up horsie she cries astride me as
I crash sweetly onto the carpet.
Boredom what an esthetic,
cleansing the days-
I laud the vintage of my toothpick.
Small-husband to the floor,
my foot stoops in dance,
in courtship intervals.
Putting their clothes on afterwards
the lovers are surprised
at how empty
the buttonholes seem.
poem by Bill Knott
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Burden On Them
I orchestrate burdens on misnamed devils,
Maybe in their minds is a fallacy;
The punishment melds to provide us with danger,
As I avoided the evil well enough,
To artistically evolve a painting of rude animation.
To see this made me murder the devil who wrote;
It revolved, the devil revolved as if astonished.
I leave the burden to luckless ones,
Their vintage of course produces bad luck
Like an alcoholic drink of sherry or beer.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sacrifice
Purple sky,
tinged with dark cobalt blue…..
I sense my soul turn inside out for you.
Full moon mistress
swirls her ivory gown,
trimmed with majestic lace
handmade in town
by women in French vintage shops
on Siene,
that have peculiar, interesting names.
Hypnotizing siren,
you entrance
[...] Read more
poem by Sara Fielder
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An Evening Song.
Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands,
And mark yon meeting of the sun and sea,
How long they kiss in sight of all the lands.
Ah! longer, longer, we.
Now in the sea's red vintage melts the sun,
As Egypt's pearl dissolved in rosy wine,
And Cleopatra night drinks all. 'Tis done,
Love, lay thine hand in mine.
Come forth, sweet stars, and comfort heaven's heart;
Glimmer, ye waves, round else unlighted sands.
O night! divorce our sun and sky apart
Never our lips, our hands.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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Surviving Existence after Seeing Her
Cool cellar wine,
A summer vintage
Of many drunken seasons lovelorn,
I dreamt of kissing her eyes
On midnights scattered now
To oblivion.
Her waist in the moonlight,
She wore a simple dress more majestic
On her frame than a Rembrandt;
I fell victim to the tender ache of desire,
Orgasmic but as soft as a feather.
Jealousy and deprival,
The wearing away of youth
And tragic denial,
If only to weep
One more time beside her
Or study her slender wrists
Again in the sunlight!
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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In Those Giddy Heights Of Lust
Palpable are the butterflies
Compelling us to embrace a kiss…
In those giddy heights of lust.
They obliterate each amiss…
Like cupids sachet, arrows
We are windswept…
Hasten to traverse &
Fall—head over heels …
& not be, sidestepped.
Like—dishearten heroes.
We brush against peeling ivory &
Imagine her in her vintage clothes
In all her undressed naked form
Like a mellifluous music!
In all but her moonlit ambiance
We imagine a compendium of ideas
In a heavenly chapter bookmarked.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Shadow of Perfection
heroine falls to the windfall
of no turning back, where brave
always hide the pride
of honor, dismay
yet! humble in the snow drops
of tears
frame me up to
the vintage of hope and capture
my daily emotion wandering
in the valley of life
as windfall touches my
fingers of goals, leaving behind
the window of
lasting hope, I’ll come to rest
pray comes in the
shadow of perfection waiting the
sun glow of respecting moist
on shepherd hands of
[...] Read more
poem by Antonio Liao
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