28 February 2009

Love Wine Glass Stone

Love is…

Wine, heady and strong, to be drunk whenever possible. The aroma, filling your nostrils with perfume and your head with memories of pleasures known and pleasures to be had. The colors, whether red or white or somewhere in between, artfully nuanced by Love, filling your mouth, rushing over the tongue, to fill the belly with warmth and bliss.

It fills the brain with passion, lust and the occasional madness. Madness that perhaps is not completely undesirable. It is madness with a purpose, is it not?

Love is…

The crystal glass, elegant and fragile, into which we pour the wine of ourselves. We open the bottle, remove the cork and let the liquid flow into the smooth curves of the vessel which we hope beyond reason will receive us. Wine splashes into the glass in languid curls, folding over themselves to rejoin in slowly settling ripples of deep, gemlike radiance. The glass a vessel we trust to catch us before we fall and dissolve in a million drops.

The glass is strong in some directions, but not in others. Drop it or knock it over and see it shatter in a cloud of tiny daggers, each carrying the full memory of love and the threat of bloodletting. The wine of our love spreads in a stain.

The risk we take, with a vessel so alluring. Yet we willingly, eagerly take the glass by the stem to bring the precious liquid to our lips. We have no choice but to drink.

Love is…

Rock and stone. The bones of the earth become the foundation of the things that hold us up. We see it as the end all, be all. Permanent and unbending, the thing we believe we can count on to always be there no matter the circumstance. And with its smooth coolness, the sleek granite countertop upon which we rest our glass of wine takes on the solidity of faith: It simply is, and we don’t question it.

Until that day we go to set the glass down, and like a chair pulled away by a prankster, the countertop is gone out from under. We watch helplessly as the glass cartwheels to the floor, disintegrating on impact.

The hands flutter helplessly, clawing at air in a futile attempt to grab the glass in mid-flight. We know the ultimate result, but we swat and flail just the same. Occasionally we catch it.

Love is...

Sometimes a bottle of wine we did not know we had, a glass hidden in a cabinet, a countertop obscured by dust. We only have to look again to find them, brush them off.

The bottle is open. The glass awaits. The counter gleams. A toast, dear friends: here’s to love, deep, rich and delicious. The stuff of life!


  1. Lovely. Madness, I love the madness brought on by a bit of Rioja, or maybe a lovely Châteauneuf.

    And now you've made me need to and get one for later.

    Lovely writing friend.

  2. Did you write this Irish Gumbo? This is amazing. I would be interested in paying you to write a poem for me about my Prince. I'm not nearly as eloquent with nice workds such as these and I've been wanting such a tribute to him for so long.
    Okay, today I'm being serious all right?? If you can help a menopausal woman out, hit me up at my blog and let me know......I have a little cash I'll willing to part with.....or would you take a rescue dog for payment?? The kiddo's will walk it and love it and clean up after it and.......:)

    Steady On
    Reggie Girl

  3. um, can I have vodka instead? Wine gives me a headache.

  4. Yep, I've missed a few benches in my time...

  5. I'm a semi-dry reisling kind of lover.

  6. Love is a grateful kitten who won't get off your lap since she was stuck for the night in a tree.
    :-) I think I am pari passu with you,Irish,on the love description.

  7. Yup. I knocked the crystal glass over once or twice. Also had someome else throw it into the fireplace.

  8. When I break a glass I say something crude like, "Fuck me!".

    When you break a glass, you write poetry. Amazing.


  9. Wow.. don't make me cry on a Saturday, okay? ;)

    Boy, when that glass breaks, it sure is a bitch to try and pick up all those pieces and try to put them back together again.. isn't it?

  10. pint glasses are much more sturdy.

  11. Gorgeous writing. Inspires me to create an ode to Scotch. Loved. This. Post!

    Now off to get caught up since I've been a sucky bloggy friend!

  12. Mo: Dionysian to say the least. And thank you for your kind comment.

    MMMR: Yes, ma’am, I did. And I am flattered that you ask! I am interested, I will be in touch!

    VM: Sure!

    Joanie: Merlot is tasty, I agree…

    Braja: You and me both.

    Pamela: Ooh, good one, goes well with the wit! :)

    FandM: Good one! Plus, I learned a new phrase today, pari passu. Thanks!

    PSHT: Yikes. Good to see you are doing okay…

    OAM: Slainte, m’lady!

    IB: I have said “fuck me!” more times than I care to admit…:)

    CPM: Sorry, my dear. And yes, it is, but important that we try…

    Mommymae: Crap, I didn’t think of that. And me a big fan of Guinness…

    Stiletto Mom: Thank you! You aiight. And I could write one for scotch , too ;)

  13. All that work and then I go and forget to comment. You've got a gift, brother. Somebody ought to be paying you to share it.

  14. then there is that bottle that came so highly recommended, friends, reviews, them that know wine, so you searched for it high and low, you prayed one day it would come to you, you placed a special order, you paid top dollar...Then you uncork it, let it breathe a while and then you go to inhale that first breath...only to find out you hate it. Your nose is insulted; one touch with your lips and you realize your mistake and then what? do you drink the contents, thinking perhaps there is something wrong with you that you don't LIKE it. maybe it is a taste you have to grow accustomed to, so you choke it down, deluding yourself with, "it's good, i wanted this." Or do you pour it down the drain. And when the bottle's empty, you don't float off the label so you can remember it later, you just pitch the bottle in the recycle bin. Yeah, we are talking about wine, right?

  15. SSP: I refer you to my sentence reagrding madness :)

  16. Captain: (bowing head) Thank you, sir!

  17. yeah, If love is wine, than I am sober...

  18. IAG: Sober can be its own kind of love.

    MIW: Let me check...

  19. You've written the most wonderful descriptions of Love. Thank you.


"Let your laws come undone
Don't suffer your crimes
Let the love in your heart take control..."

-'The Hair Song', by Black Mountain

Tell me what is in your heart...