Tag: celebration

• Without Context

  I’ll do my best to recall, and explain
  What I remember, despite it all ablurred...
  Though such an effort may well be in vain,
  As the whole night was nothing but absurd.
  There were dancers swinging from the ceiling,
  And the crowd was aloud with laughs. Awe. Sweat.
  Joker, Harley, Blinders, and a feeling
  That we all know as the "Bar Lafayette".
  But, words are a futile tool in relaying
  What thrills we will, and still, recount since then.
  These do not compare to songs replaying
  In our heads; that transport us there again.
       If I could describe the fun, I’d attest
       That only memory describes it best.

  celebration, drinking, friends, sonnet

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• Fun Fact

  It was not so easy to count 8 hours
  By any other measure than tonic’d gin.
  For best as we could, with Cabaret’s powers,
  We could only tell when dancing should begin.
  Addled by the shows’ spright, beguiling sight,
  Bodies bound in flesh, and collar, pole, and reel;
  Eyes truly outdo what words can scarcely write,
  For to see such marvels: alike to feel.
  But that’s not even the joy on which to dwell,
  No mention of the one who ripped his pants,
  The greatest joy: the chorus of the spell
  Under which we fell, all night; we all danced.
       In fleeting pain and joy, in music’s haze:
       In dance, we spent our night. In rest, our days.

  celebration, friends, party, sonnet

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• In Fidelity to Wine

  Were there reason to be festive; throw,
  A party be inclined, 
  As one to wind, their caution; though
  Festive reason is to find
  Reason enough to indulge en masse,
  To party, and to dine,
  To drink care free of worlds to pass
  In fidelity to wine.
  
  Such are we, both women and men, 
  Both loyal to the grape. 
  Our purpose clear in flirt we lend: 
  From sobriety – escape.
  Lips grow loose in tender taste
  Of nectar of the vine,
  For endless drink bears time to waste
  In fidelity to wine.
  
  We company of indulgees
  Intend to never vex, 
  For pleasure’s plenty in whom take seize
  Of life, of love, of sex. 
  Seeking shared that whimsied bliss, 
  Upon all joy aligned.
  Seek not pain of vie en triste;
  Infidel is he to wine. 
  
  But since such bliss is ever fleeting, 
  And joy a fickle friend,
  We indulge in vice in hopes of meeting
  A bliss unto no end,
  As escape finds reason, free from time,
  A freedom we assign
  The pursuit of we to fest sublime
  In fidelity to wine.
  
  And so, may we drink to find warmth in this season.
  And so, may we drink to drink more for one reason:
  For though we may drink to bliss that we please in
  Our joy from the drink that flows with our ease in
               Fidelity to wine.

  celebration, long form, ode, poem, wine

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