Claret

[Hawkman]

(A libation for a goddess...)


Seeking clarity,
I open a bottle of good wine,
breathe as it breathes;
savour the anticipation.

My glass is waiting,
its crystal song
resonant with the prospect
of being filled, touched,
drunk from.
It only needs a fingernail
to stir its voice,
but wine is silent until poured.

Claret speaks complacently,
its breath is sweet,
flooding my nostrils
and carrying the sound
of glugging chuckles to my ear
while my eye feasts upon plush colour
shaping in the cup.

Say when...

The liquid settles in the vessel’s hold,
the surface, just below the brim,
a wavering reflective skin
that masks its richness.
Holding it to the light
I look through it—
and find clarity.

I take a sip to find a little more
and start to glow,
warmed from within
as if I’d lined myself
with velvet.
I take another…

At last, the bottle relinquishes
its last drop.
Through glass, now dull,
the lees cloud claret’s clarity
while its fumes befog my own.
One last slurp,
then, unsteadily, I rise,
resolve to wash up in the morning,
and go to bed, alone.

[MANICHAEAN]

Excellent.

I cannot write poetry to save my life, but appreciate it when, as in your piece, it captures so well the almost transubstantiation ritual of: controlled anticipation, exotic scents, tastes that evolve vistas of sunlit vineyard slopes and the feeling of harmony that a good wine evokes.

I did not like the last line though. Would have sexed it up with a fantasy involving one of Prince Harry's swimming partners.

Take care.
M.

[Hawkman]

Thanks for reading Man ;) The piece is intended to be knowingly tongue in cheek and the final line was intended to be, well, funny. It might be a little heavy handed though, a bit of a clunk perhaps? ;) but you're right, there is something ritualistic about opening a bottle, and the absolution from care that it brings :D

Live and be well - H

[Jack of Hearts]

Liked the last line in the poetic way. But agree with MAN in a practical way.

Hawk, it was easy to enjoy the especial slowness of this poem. But if you keep seeing this Claret woman every night, we're going to get you into a program...






J

[Hawkman]

Lol. Thanks Jack, glad you enjoyed it. But fear not, I do not habitually imbibe. The above is a ritual for special occasions :D

Live and be well - H

[Jack of Hearts]

Haha, only days that end in 'y'? Or can we have an example of such an occasion- perhaps in poem form...







J

[Bar22do]

The lordly pace of your poem, Hawk, goes so well with a Saint Emilion! And Jack, if this is Hawk's tribute to his goddess (and unless he's Bill Gates' brother), it can't be a daily one, so we won't need to aa him, hopefully.
Besides, what do we know about that goddess, after all she might be cloudian (read - cloud eater) and content with water vapors as her dailiy need.

A good poem here, Hawk. Hope N found some clarity at the bottle's bottom!

[Hawkman]

Jack: I guess it depends on what language one speaks as to whether the day has a y in it :D As for the special occasion: should it arise I can assure you that I'll write a poem about it... I have a Bordeaux in my wine rack, waiting.

Sweet Bar, much as I would love for this bottle to have been engendered from the terroir of St. Emilion, I suspect that it wasn't - lol. If my goddess truly prefers simple water vapour, then the hot air which rises as I sing her praises will condense at altitude for her nourishment.

As for clarity in wine, I find the most in the first sip. As with a woman, by the time one gets down to the bottom one tends to be quite intoxicated. The headache comes the next day ;)

Live and be well - H

[MANICHAEAN]

H
I must confess that I was fascinated in your last paragraph on how to determine clarity in a woman.

[Hawkman]

Man: I think you may have misread my comment - with a woman, the deeper the involvement, the greater the confusion. :D

Live and be well - H