Introspective
Uninspired
Moody
Sad
Lost
Unwound
Confounded
Disenfranchised
Devoid of conscience,
Willing to go there
Even knowing regrets
Will flow like wine.
Exonerate
Justify
Alarm
Cry
Soul
Testify
Elaborate
Tag: wine
Snapshot #30
I call this one, “The Extent of my Halloween Decorating.”
I’ve Been Drunk
I’ve Been Drunk
words by Leslie Noyes
I’m usually sober, but I have been drunk. Sometimes one glass of wine leads to another,
And I lose count. Mind, this isn’t my usual state. Normally you’ll find me sober as a saint.
Tonight, though? Tonight I succumbed. Tonight I forgot about rules and restrictions.
I did not drown my sorrows; I celebrated my joys. Oh, my heart! I have so very many.
Rainy Days and Vacations Always Get Me Down.
Rain is our friend, right? Along with sunshine and good soil rain helps our gardens grow. But this forecast is bringing me down, man.
I’m especially bummed about the forecast for the Tampa area. Studly Doright and I have booked a beachfront suite at a resort in Clearwater, FL, for next week in celebration of our 40th anniversary. Their ten day forecast is as depressing as ours.
Hopefully this whole mess will clear out by next Thursday. If not, Studly and I have to figure out how to have fun in a hotel room for five days. I should probably bring a deck of cards. And wine. Lots of wine.
Maybe Karen Carpenter can sing me out of my funk:
http://youtu.be/PjFoQxjgbrs
Peace, people!
A Box and a Bottle
The box sat unopened on the kitchen table, a bottle of red wine close at hand, long-stemmed glass in reach.
Off came the lids and memories spilled forth:
Newlywed couple, too young to know the perils of an uncertain future.
Pensive new mom in a white nightgown holding her firstborn, swaddled in soft blue bunting.
Happy one year old, face covered in frosting.
Another newborn held tightly, this one covered in pink.
A grinning toddler waving chubby fists over a Cabbage Patch birthday cake.
Wine poured, a tentative taste.
Years roll along. Kindergarten, primary years. Slow days, fast years.
Field day ribbons in primary hues.
Teachers’ notes in calligraphy
Cards from grandparents, now long gone, the signatures unique and cherished. Tangible proof of their love.
A bit more wine, a smooth second sip. Sweeter, deeper, longer.
High school awards, who knew they’d had so many?
Yearbook photos from different schools
Letters from crushes, embarrassingly frank, oh this is blackmail material!
Pour another glass. Wipe a tear away.
Graduation photos with family and friends.
Caps and gowns
Alma mater in the background
That glass went quickly! Pour another. Be generous. That’s good.
Adventures abroad
Wedding gowns and cummerbunds
Honeymoons
First grandchildren, three months apart
Sweet babies. She has my nose. He has your smile. More wine? Please.
New grandchildren are born
Personalities emerge–this one a tomboy, this one mercurial, this one a charmer; all loved
Marriages shift
New alliances form
Those were difficult days. Yes, more wine, please.
Holidays and birthdays
Moving days, so far away
Family reunions, look how we’ve grown! From two scared kids to this grand family.
Enough for one afternoon. Besides, we’re all out of wine. Close the box and kiss me.
Afternoon Wine
Not yet five o’clock on a holiday afternoon, but who’s counting?
Open a bottle of rich red wine, and let it breathe, as I breathe.
Deep, slow exhalations, anticipations, celebrations.
Firecrackers crackle across the lake, driving the cats under the bed.
Pour a deep glass, notes of lavender and wood smoke grace the tongue.
Lazy limbs, liquid limbed, one sip leads to a second, then third.
The sound of our beating hearts superimposed over the pop! pop! pop!
Independence day? Interdependence day.
Hold me until the sounds cease.
Troublemaker
Troublemaker! she cried.
Now, look what you’ve done.
Who? Me?
Made me think I could dance.
Oooh, you can so dance, like a female Baryshnikov!
Told me I was hot.
Smoking, babe!
Insinuated I could carry on witty conversations with the opposite sex.
I could listen to your stories all night long, gorgeous girl.
Well, cease your troublemaking ways. I’m through with you and all you’ve wrought.
C’mon, sugar, have just one more sip.
Well, if you insist. I’m not driving, after all.
Constipation of the Brain
waning
words
scant
thoughts
rotten
rhymes
a clear
case
of
constipated
brain.
Doctor prescribes three glasses of rich red wine and says, “Write something brilliant tonight. You’ll be hungover in the morning.”
Taking Stock
Taking Stock
I can’t remember
was this the afternoon the
sun obscured my view?
was this the time I
needed to shade my eyes
with the flat of my hand?
some evenings I brace
myself for sol’s onslaught;
moving to another chair
would be too simple
instead, I squint and grumble
while sipping Merlot.
but I’m almost certain
that clouds obstructed
the rays yesterday,
and left me in peace
for once.
Poured
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.
Praying for Eyebrowz 