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Poetry in the Vines

Here in lies a new endeavour for Sour Grapes Winery going by the name of Poetry in the Vines. For the first time, we are branching out into the reaches of creative writing, specifically poetry. Tyler Jackson, a friend of Sour Grapes Winery from the beginning, will be spearheading this venture. He is particularly fond of the poetry of Emily Dickinson, but finds himself intoxicated by the art of poetry and the expression that can be found deep within it by those who are patient enough to seek it out.

In the coming months, Tyler Jackson will work to highlight noteworthy poetry from time to time with Poetry in the Vines according to his own established editorial criteria, as a guideline for what his is looking for. To submit your work for consideration, you may send it to poetryinthevines(at)sourgrapeswinery.com after having read through the criteria, which is linked below. Failure to read the criteria will be obvious and result in immediate rejection of your work.

Criteria for Poetry Submissions

Friday
Sep212012

Ode to a Dead Mouse: A Poem by Doug Ferguson

- Vancouver, British Columbia -

A silent war, with stolen food,
you leave traces through the night.
We find your spoils, spare the rest,
and arm ourselves to fight.

I've heard you scurrying, little scavenger,
while I've tried to sleep.
Under the stove is your escape
where I have heard you squeak.

Why would you not fall for the traps,
we set to spare your life?
Set the bait, arm the trigger,
as lethal as a knife.

In the night you came around,
in search of tastes that please.
A step, a snap, a broken neck,
You gave your life for cheese.

I rose from bed, I saw the trap,
knew you had no tomorrow.
There was no joy or celebration,
and all I felt was sorrow.

Friday
Sep072012

Untitled: A Poem by Patrice Lapeyre

- Dunkirk, France -

Of course I'll live
this painful life;
I'll play to win
I'll play and lose
again.
I'll drown in booze
my guilty flesh and sinful skin.
Still, I will play the no win games
of love and pain.

Of course I'll live
this painful life.
Behind the thin
blade of sharp ice
of your curt eyes.
Again,
I'll hear you say:
"I won't forgive,
I'll just forget
The shameful sham
I'm passing by."

So, yes, I'll live,
hoping that life
Hides some meaning
behind my pain,
that I won't crawl that endless way,
again!
Only to find that love is pain
and realize I've hoped in vain.

Friday
Aug242012

The Kiss and the Emotion it Brings: A Poem by Paul Partington

- Vancouver, British Columbia -

Her: Let us rejoice! We are so glad!

Her Bridesmaids: What fools we've been to think she'd marry anyone less.

(and all her people rejoiced)

Him: She is like a quick wind up against my chest. She quakes my knees, and I shiver with gladness. I can not sing long enough of her beauty. She is graceful like a doe.

Her: His strong arms hold me. He is like the ox. Strong and sturdy. His brooding shoulders can cary much weight.

Her Bridesmaids: Never let this one go! Your beauty has captured one who will give you strong children. Indeed, this is a glorious day!

(and all her people rejoiced)

Him: Her perfume upon her neck brings gladness to me. It captures me. I am amazed at her beauty. I am forever blessed!

/

Their wait for each other was well worth it. How his smile grew when he laid eyes upon his lovely bride.

The same fire that was lit when he saw her, was there burning stronger, she now at his side.

(and they kissed)