Guinness
(Published in 2004 edition of The Review)
It curves generously,
opening wide to offer
its precious bounty.
It’s graceful side, an elegant line
broken by a mist of condensation
Black enough to hide me,
silent as I want my mind to be,
just cool enough to sooth me.
The froth, soft like flannel,
I want to pull sheets of it around me.
It can’t heal my body,
erase my anguish,
or bring anyone back
to drink with me one last time.…
It tastes good.
It softens my mind’s voice
for a little while;
a glassful of pub-chatter
that ferments my whirling thoughts.
It curves generously,
opening wide to offer
its precious bounty.
It’s graceful side, an elegant line
broken by a mist of condensation
Black enough to hide me,
silent as I want my mind to be,
just cool enough to sooth me.
The froth, soft like flannel,
I want to pull sheets of it around me.
It can’t heal my body,
erase my anguish,
or bring anyone back
to drink with me one last time.…
It tastes good.
It softens my mind’s voice
for a little while;
a glassful of pub-chatter
that ferments my whirling thoughts.
posted by TwistedNoggin at 11:01 PM
4 Comments:
this is a nice piece and im not saying that just because im a guiness drinker. those who dont drink it will deifnitely know what they are missing now.
This is great; I can feel the froth on my lips at the pub. So you know Blog This. I think your poetry is really good. He just joined a community blog; I think you'd fit in well if you want. Just email me.
Yes. Taht was a good swill...
Or even "that" was a good swill...
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