deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Last Wine I Sip
The Last Wine I sip shall be the last,
From this secret glass in my darkest place.
Who may tell when the flower fades dry,
Or how in the moment, the sky is made wide?
More to the colour between the wine and the water...
More to the mass through every feast and fast....
From the infant cradle to the final cavern,
From the empty desert to the companioned table,
Less to the darkness when the days become one,
At the many crossroads of my finished thirsts.
I faced Time in these ages to feel the Promise
I felt at the first, in the Last Wine I sip.
From this secret glass in my darkest place.
Who may tell when the flower fades dry,
Or how in the moment, the sky is made wide?
More to the colour between the wine and the water...
More to the mass through every feast and fast....
From the infant cradle to the final cavern,
From the empty desert to the companioned table,
Less to the darkness when the days become one,
At the many crossroads of my finished thirsts.
I faced Time in these ages to feel the Promise
I felt at the first, in the Last Wine I sip.
Published 7th Nov 2014
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9th Nov 2014 3:45am
i always like poems with alternate grammar. i too choose to capitalize words that have personal emphasis instead of only capitalizing proper nouns and all that formal shit. makes writing more accessible and gives the writer and reader a better chance of understanding each other instead of simply understanding the rules. nice write. thanks for sharing
11th Nov 2014 6:49am
Cheers fellow boreal denizen! Glad you're on board with alt grammar and the lost usage of Capitalisations! I'm not a hundred percent with this version of the poem (see comment below), but darn thanks for your liking to it!
11th Nov 2014 6:59am
I kind of re-scrawled this poem in the posting box, pretty much every line changed in some way or another. Never like doing that, but alas, a lot of these poems I've posted here on the site are unique reworked versions (I earlier stated about 30%, that figure is likely more accurately within the 90% range). The original poem (which itself, I do remember, was reworked just a smidge from the original rough sheet, which has long been lost since) was typed up like this:
The last wine we sip must be the last;
Drunken from a sacred glass in our darkest place.
Who can tell when the flower will die;
Or how in a moment, the sky will hide?
More to the colour, between wine and water;
More to the mass, through feast and fast.
From the cradle, to the cavern;
From the desert, to the table.
Less to the darkness when the days are one,
In myriad spaces on the thirst cross-road.
We face Time in stages to feel the promise
Felt at the first, in the last wine we sip.
So I'm not too sure which is the better version, originally the poem had a simplified conceptual flow, nothing too complex or visual in its lines. Not sure if there's an improvement, hard to say.
The last wine we sip must be the last;
Drunken from a sacred glass in our darkest place.
Who can tell when the flower will die;
Or how in a moment, the sky will hide?
More to the colour, between wine and water;
More to the mass, through feast and fast.
From the cradle, to the cavern;
From the desert, to the table.
Less to the darkness when the days are one,
In myriad spaces on the thirst cross-road.
We face Time in stages to feel the promise
Felt at the first, in the last wine we sip.
So I'm not too sure which is the better version, originally the poem had a simplified conceptual flow, nothing too complex or visual in its lines. Not sure if there's an improvement, hard to say.
