Unleash this arrested
wanderer in me
surviving a dreary day
and pour me a shot
of single malt
searching the night
for a place
to call home
- Scotch - neat -
- on the rocks -
with a just a dash
of water
pickles all affliction
internal, untold
and brings out
the flavor
- releasing -
this poet's favor
of its troubled pause
On a rainy day
preferably
for all proclivity
at highest potency
all sweet; all sour
to run free
tap dance; and smile
free of fault
to weep - to gather
spill, and shout out
every heartfelt treasure
soaked
in elixir warmth
For the reflective moments
carried away
between the depths
of brine laden sighs
and thoughtful breaths
on this odyssey
this I decree;
Scotch the pleasure
Scotch the pain
Scotch, the stylus needle
to my gramophone
-
Author:
Garth Rakumakoe (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 8th, 2025 05:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
Offline)
Comments1
A poem that feels so classic but is brought to the modern day. A Bacchanalian festival of gayety and celebration under the influence of alcohol that dims the pain of life. A wonderful write or should I say rite
Thank you so much, fellow poet.
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