The melodies of floating violas
enraptured the steadfast candles
into giggling wicks of flickering blush
and swayed into panic by a rush of
prancing sommeliers in dressed tables,
delightfully excused the spilling Beaujolais into crystal
bouquets of merry puddles; splashing over
a Strauss waltz of laced oxfords, stilettos and polished toenails,
dancing the indigo sea of Persian carpet into a gusto of encores.
Its ravished waves washing up
aphrodisiacal bivalves sucked from cusped shells
in rhythmic slurps of ecstasy; guffaws and high fives
ignoring the great chambers of decorum.
Ostentatious derrieres wrapped in evening finery
chafing the shaved legs and salty oxters balancing the double chins
and heaving breasts nested midst a stiffening of tuxedos
on the antiquated oaks of Chippendales
where ruby pouts succumbed to the wafting flocks of passing petal-winged
perfumes bound for the powered nosed water closets
after the rippling ripples of sipping consommé.
Succulent fowl of broiled art displayed on sterling salvers
steaming the silver service
with delicious obedience to the silent awes
of ruminating randy aristocrats in the spiced
portfolios of the chef-d'œuvre.
Oozy whisperings oozed from luring smiles melting the
ice-cream of strawberry sighs into milky mellow secrets,
flooding the temperature with a humid vermillion.
The heated aura lingered in the polite suggestions
of nibbling biscuits seducing the silky Camembert
as the patient Vinho do Porto held out; hovering close
to the decanted aromas.
Sublime eau de vie supped in elegant digestif mellowing on
leathers of Poltrona Frau to Habana plumes rising and
embracing the branching chandeliers swaying over tingling appreciations
whilst biding adieus to weary violas - the daring drapes
drew from the bantering windows as Parisian
winds blew in from the flashing paparazzi. Coupled
desires fled the scene through the nightly
pace; rouge-like with fullness bound recklessly
for the lust ridden pieds-à-terre of night caps.
Abandoning pressed apparel;
casting etiquette overboard from a well sprung tempestuous
four-poster. Pig like squeals and grunts applauding the
mating season’s sweat, spit and sticky stuff in the aftertaste
of untipped cigarettes and spilt infidelity
on the silk sheets of repentant nightmares in snorting slumber.
Fin
-
Author:
Tony Grannell (
Offline) - Published: October 7th, 2026 09:46
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Teddy.15, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
Decadent, louche and gluttonous a party of excess and appearances where vanity battles with desire. There is a feeling of debauchery where the all is right for one can. Very nicely written with a mixture of French and English the first for finery and excess and the second for pride and pomp and ceremony. Nicely written my friend exactly the party that I would stay away from.
A good evening from here, Soren,
A bit of fun writing this and I know that neither you nor I would attend, not that we would have be invited. Once again your words are very much appreciated and valued.
Fond regards,
Tony.
You are most welcome Tony. If there is anything I hate it is formal events, don't like ties and jackets less yet tuxes and the people that attend tend to get under my skin.
Here, Here! My friend.
I peed in the soup or whatever they called it, and managed to get off early as my wife was expecting...
Hello, Dave,
In that moment of relief did you stand up on the chair or take the soup bowl under the table. Your early exit - oh, lucky you. Your light heartiness is very much enjoyed as it is appreciated.
All the best,
Tony
Bit of a lad I were then, and managed the job as kitchen porter. My wife got what she was expecting, and we both had a good...ah... time.
Regards,
Dave
Well what a mighty treat, having lived in Chianti for many years this is a dream come true at least until I wake 🤣 the grand ball, I don't mind if I do... Slumber or not we all have our vice! 🍷
I had Philip Larkin in my Head when Reading this. The Sort of Write he may have done.
A very discriptive write.
Hello, Kevin,
I see what you mean but he never crossed my mind, thank you though for bringing it up - Philip Larkin and I on the same page, who would have thought - ha ha ha!
Wishing you much happiness,
Tony.
The same to you.
In the backdrop of a party, an observation arises querying the collision between civilisation and appetite. With everything polished, cultured, and expensive the veneer slips into the sensual and physical. Brings to mind piglet chasing scenes in the movies of such extravagances. Could be satirical or a plain sharp observation of experience.
Hello, arqios,
Purely satirical, from pork on the salvers to pigs in the sty.. I have really enjoyed your response. Thank you very much.
Wishing you much happiness,
Tony.
Most welcome dear Tony 🙏🏻🕊️👍🏻
Good Lord, Tony! 🤣 I started out feeling terribly sophisticated and ended up wondering whether anybody at this gathering had an ounce of shame left! What a gloriously decadent bunch of scoundrels! LOL! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Hello, Tristan,
Every silver lining has a pig in the middle - ha ha ha! Lovely of you to drop by.
Wishing you fine dining,
Tony.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.