Of Sour Grapes And Wine Poem by Jackie Allen

Of Sour Grapes And Wine



On the one hand.....
Clusters of sour grapes, a jet trail overhead,
His, a cloud of suspicion, a cocktail of the unknown.
A skeleton of scarecrow stood as sentry, and time
And the Vintner closed their eyes and went to bed.
Helpless the grapes as the vines drooped and bled.

In the making....
Of procrastinations, some wariness, some
Fatigue, oversight was lost, so too desire
To labor in the fields, to reap the bounty
Hard work comes with effort, but in the journal
He kept, that page was sadly missing.


On the other hand...
A cluster of storm clouds, the sky turned red....
She, with back unbroken, gathered both the
Sweet with the sour, left some that were dead.
And with nary a glance at the past, held a foot
Stomping party and with effort made wine.

In the making...
And tasting of wine, some effort needed,
Some skill heeded, so too, the bad weather.
Like a mother caring for her children,
Promise encouraged as to her offspring
Sweet wine tips now its glass to her smile.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: pride
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