Can't hear a word you say
As i drown in rosé

Le Cordon Bleu sommelier in the know
Discussed wine pairing with patrons aglow
"What does your order include?"
"Roast turducken frankenfood"
"Then I recommend a dry Portmanteau!"


© 2020 Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.

He might bite down on it,
The glass between his lips
Swirling red with wine he swallows
While fixing withering glares
At me, who only points out the obvious
As the guests murmur among themselves,
Unaware of our little argument
That cracks the glass in my hand,
Seeping little red rivulets
Stain the white cloth underneath
As I smile, sharp teeth glinting.
He never looks away, a reassurance even when we curse one another.
Regardless of what we do, we won’t shatter.

The more I undress you
The more you are in light
As the half-burnt moon come out from the clouds
It fell on your rising ******* in my hand
Then slide across the undulations
Down to the river
From where rises the gypsy madness and the wild smell of a primitive surrender
Oracles are born then
I can hear them, even you
As we make love
In our body dances
The Mediterranean wine.

"Your lips are like honey, and your kisses are like wine." She whispered as she sat on my forearm in her thin sweatpants.

She was right.

My words are sweet,
and cap hearts like a breast,
in golden amber.

Like wine,
my kisses stain,
if settled,
fermented,
way before she came.

From the bottom of the barrel
with previously crushed grapes.

Carry me away to some distant land That I could call, the City of Roses.

Where I would solve the mystery of love With wine without a whine.

It's been the longest time,
Since I've felt this alive.
So many years gone by
Since I've seen all these guys.

But on this day,  I rise,
When I was granted life,
To find my eyes surprised
By all their smiles and cries!

"Hey, happy birthday man! "
"It's been a long-*** time! "
"We planned ahead, and decided
To grab some whiskey and wine! "

And that was all it took,
To get it through my head,
That when this night was over
We'd likely do it again.

See, I'm a man with good friends,
I have a thirst I must quench,
And when Bacchus calls for me,
I always let the games begin!

And once these parties start,
They rarely, if ever, end.
And when the bottles do run dry,
Someone carries some more in.

"And every glass I take,  I do it not for me;"

"It's for His Majesty!"
"It's for His Majesty!"

Now it's the third warm night
And all the wine is gone,
The whiskey comes along,
And they break out in song:

"Another cup for mine!"
"Another night survived!"

"It's for His Majesty!"
"It's for His Majesty!