Wine, within my silver goblet,
threads this stony burrow with braided glows—
desperately mimicking clips and phrases
of the cave mouth's brilliant speech.
But her sweet voice doesn't fool me.
So she begs for me to drink—
falsely warms my tongue and veins—
claiming she’s a fresh-brook truth.
But her sweet taste doesn't fool me.
Dear wine: You slander my vision,
dry away my mind;
and, despite attempts to replenish or sip you,
my goblet's always one-third full.
If I refuse to be fooled by sweetness,
am I just a bitter fool?
A contest entry
- 15 Lines or Less - Free Verse Only - Self Esteem by Cupcrazy.
450 points, ended April 17, 2007, 15 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Lovely piece, nice crafted metaphor and great flow. Thanks for this fine entry.
Bunny
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