The Last Barrel (+1)

Kurt Philip Behm

Like wine,

these older days

are vintage

 

Aging,

as each days number

declines

 

Ripe

in the tannin

of what remains

 

Rich

in the sweetness

of time now past

 

The vines

to wither

—in memory lost

 

(The New Room: May, 2021)

 

 

Period End

 

Running away

from the impossible...

Truth,

the last thing that’s caught

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2021)

  • Author: Kurt Philip Behm (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 27th, 2021 09:58
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 32
  • User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
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Comments2

  • L. B. Mek

    I'm not swimming within blinking eyes
    of unshed tears, as I type these words...
    no really, its just so breezy in-doors during summer
    with my windows, tightly closed...
    ahem!
    (love, that mellow melancholic, feel
    you've weaved within insightfully, loud
    searchingly: incandescent Poetry!)
    beautiful, truly..
    thanks for sharing dear Poet
    'in the tannin
    of what remains'
    'as each days number
    declines'
    'in the sweetness
    of time now past'
    'The vines
    to wither'
    'Rich
    Like wine,
    Ripe'
    '—in memory lost'

  • Kurt Philip Behm

    Very kind again, thanks.

    Kurt



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