It has toasted kings, and diamond rings among other things

Caused the kiss and the embrace, and broke the romance

Served to honor and to heal, drank to ponder and to reveal

Shared to celebrate love, gulped to forget the hate

Sipped to contemplate that we find ourselves great

Or to weep our weakness cried with lonely tears

Some are new some are old with years

Some are loved by the noble ladies

Others belched by the brute

We drink it to remember

We drink it to forget

The bitter, we spit

The sweet, we hold

Savoring a little bit

Ruby red and clear

Amber Sparkling

Intricate Aromas

We hold it close

Deeply nosed

Eyes closed

Exposed

The land

The soil

The sun

The rain

 The rocks

And the dew

Quite quaffable too

Ages of this daedal art and skillful work carefully bring

This moment in a glass, or a chalice fine, time and wine

Aldo Dálaner

As if to tell the ocean to go further is not allowed

A breathtaking coastline of multiple extremes

Where desert, coastline, and mountains connect with undetectable seams

Too much, too fast

What sets you apart, at this rate, may not last

Palm trees rise above the crowds like botanical pom-poms

Amidst the frenzied, the excitement, to call us back to the calm

Agriculture to entertainment, technology to art

Work hard for a while so you can play with all of your heart

Too much, too fast

What sets you apart, at this rate, may not last

The ocean life is abundant, the skiing is great

Laid back as the culture is, you must rush only to have to wait

Yet, despite the quakes, the landslides, and fires

To leave or change would be contrary to the local’s desires

The surf is too good, the sunsets and view

With all this at your grasp why try something new?

oh bee with bent knee slumb’ring in the ground

despite the coldness of each winter day,

the earth’s embrace will keep you safe and sound,

to bear the sleep of queens ensconced in clay.

your droning labor as the autumn ends

develops delves of safety in the earth.

and as your terran prison slowly mends

you dream of distant destiny: rebirth.

as spring arrives and daffodils take root

amidst the penetrating rains that fall;

the warming eves unveil owls that hoot,

with morning scents dislodging winter’s pall.

awakening, to freedom you must claw

a way upward, escape your earthly grave.

Behold! Emerging now, amidst a flaw

within the ground, a stripèd noble brave.

You fly, a whisper, o’er the flow’rs that bloom

t’ward mottled puppy’s jaws heralding doom.

Child watched your smile, the old boy handclasp

She heard the easy patter, laughter

She didn’t speak and heard you sell them.

            The art of working rooms:

            The salesman’s wink with drink in hand

            Cigarettes to highlight gesture

            Stock props to make the sale.

Girl watched your form asleep on sofa

She heard your snarling voice, the cursing

She feared to speak and hid from conflict.

            The lie of happy home.

            An ever-present drink in hand

            Cigarettes well-used as buffer

            All plied to hold the guise. 

Teen watched and waited for some notice

She listened, eager for some guidance

She did not speak but ached to hear you

            Sage words were never spoke.

            Your drink was always clutched in hand

            Cigarettes you gripped with malice: 

            Tools used to craft a void.     

They came and joined with you in laughter,

Both cronies, strangers loved your stories.

All spoke their chat; your ear turned raptly. 

            No use of prop just charm.   

            The beers unhurried, drank with cheer 

            Cigarettes no longer wanted –        

             Recast as Good Old Roy.

Miss watched you with them and felt envy

She listened to your easy banter

She wished to speak but sensed before her  

            Indifference, no love.

            Sad monkey waited all her years,

            Yearned for warmth, some kindly word 

            To find she had no name.

When I should sell, buy,

Breathe, and blink.

Show me opulence and status,

My absent entourage’s laughs

Raise my expectations, make me nervous,

Make me question the One True Path.

Tell me stories of unwanted children,

Show me pictures of the dead.

Then sell me blasphemy and sex,

With these things fill my head.

Teach me, box.

Train me up in your ways.

Tell me how it fits together and

Makes the wheels turn.

After all,

These are

The days

Of our lives.

A great new gift for a new beginning

Soft pink petals whisper “it’s a girl”

Small and sweet wrapped in curls

The prickly thorns slowly changing

To prom it went, in a hue of green

The sound of bells and the blanket of snow

At that moment it was held tightly with a bow

The veil lay long and the white satin train

The simplicity of it all holds so much life

The storms it survived and more triumphs than any

Now the time has come to say goodbye

This time more than before lay so many

Neatly arranged were Red, Yellow, and White

Over the shiny box of mahogany

Slumber of the dead.

No rise of torso’s cavern,

No wave of nostril’s curtain.

            You turn in the bed

            In answer to my will –

We both can breathe again.

      embankment, awaiting the cloudy gathering to draw

           nearer and spill against the road,

                    revelry overflowing  –

                                    Feathery, wispy dissipation to festivity of twirling,

                                                floating:  a graceful changing yet changeless

                                                      descending dance to deepest hollow, spirited

                                                               reel to river bottom ballroom floor!

                                                            Peaceful congregation sighing, swirling,

                                                                   Now silent, swaying –

                                                                           sweetly resting,

                                                                              still,

                                                            Embraced by autumn’s even chill

                                                            ‘Til sun’s release come dawn of day.

It will
carry you
far!

It will take you
through
your river
of deceit
and
over the hills
of
your
lies

You will
see the
world
through
your
arrogant merits

You will enjoy
each
moment
as it passes

And
collect each
accomplishment
in vain

Bless your
pretty little face!

It will
comfort
you
in your
old age

Your memories
will
keep you warm
and your fairness
will keep you
company

Partners
of old
lovers
will
be so jealous!

Surrounded by antiques
and lace

No busy tots
to fuss over
or chaos
to straight

Turning the
bed
for
one is easier
than
worrying for
two

It’s almost
as though
your life
will
tend
itself

As long as
you bless
your pretty little
face.

I have come to dark places
and I have spilled blood borne of rage!

I have mourned my regrets
and I have caressed fools
Profane fools
recognized as fury, jealousy, hatred.
I have bedded them all
And I have loved them all.

I have cursed the shadows
And I have hunted what haunted me.

I have grinned in the face of the chaos
And I honored the misery.
I have spawned the turmoil
And bathed in its consequence.
I have exulted in the madness
And felt comfort in insanity’s embrace.

I have snarled at the capacity of love
And I have rejected the attachments of sentiment.

And I have injured my birthright
And I have shunned what is my destiny.

Still, I feel a good thing
Reaching at me
Awaiting my grasp.
Longing to be claimed.
Pleading it’s gift and privilege.
Calling for me.

My home calls, awaiting
Wouldn’t I seize my claim?

Ray Pope