POURED
poured the cabernet then poured out my heart
tongue loosened by a crush of grapes
uncorked, unbottled, unstoppered
all the metaphors for letting go
once begun there was no cessation
only an endless stream of oak-tinted red fueling grief-stricken confidences
three glasses in, laughter trickles from somewhere
i never knew there was a spider’s web in the lower left chamber of my heart, but hilarity precedes sadness and another pour goes ’round
spin little spider, spin.
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
Doing the best I can with what I have
kind of sad, but not so bad with cheese. cheese not provided.
My streams of thought meet here
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Life in a flash - a bi-weekly storytelling blog
MARK PETRUSKA | WRITER
Short essays about novels and other fictional works
By Ian Garrabrant
Home of Micropoetry, Literature, art and philosophy.
Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
I'd curtsy but I'm drunk.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
An excellent photo — the colour and composition are eye-catching. Made even better by the vivid words that accompany it.
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Thank you! I found the photo on Pinterest, but there was no photo credit attached.
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not a bad pour of a poem from a bohemian in Florida… “heart, but hilarity precedes..” indeed
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Thank you kindly. I might’ve been under the influence when I wrote that.
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Beautiful poem, and achingly sad
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Thank you–I had more than my share to drink the night I wrote this. I’m not usually that maudlin!
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