Poetry: Sour Wine
A story told by the tongue
Of how a diluted water changes it sound
Wore a sweet face,with a sour shirt.
Dancing and wining on a different ground
Quarreling with sweet and bitter tastes.
On same tongue a sour taste was found
Remember the water that was turned into wine?
In it midst this poem came to life.
Life,like a sour wine sometimes staggers.
Wine,like life sometimes doesn’t taste the way it seems.
Winds travel like the content of a bottle,
bringing me shivers from a thatched land.
some bring memories, hand in-hand,
when they blow past the tasteless tongues.
It fit the seats sitting with those wits
lazily longing for treasures in my head
sweet teeth treats its spits and mint
so sorrows are sore with a soft dread.
Downtown calls for the stooge of this throne
So he leaves this love for the taste of home.
Water never turns stale
Kept long in iron pail
It may bring merriment and hale
Of course it will nail
Sadness to the mail
And post it far from fail
But the morning after comes with a veil
Cream alone won’t silence the wail
Caused by this sour ginger ale
Sweet stays sweet nut not pass the night
We tiptoed pass moments of bliss
Funny the days and ways we’ve out grown
It was a full glass, now we’re far from liss
Brewed by day and ruined by night
The plush bed has grown thorns
Darkness has swallowed our light.
This road has just closes without turns
wild wills and wishes waned
Burnt bliss brews and breed.