A wino summmer


She sees the candlelight again, a sun
through crystal rubied summer-dawn.
Her wishes turned to grey, and as she wakes,
on news from yesterday, on ink and stone, she’s blond.
She urges her clock to measure seconds,
heartbeats of those crumpled bills, precise amount;
but yet his door is locked; her sigh is sour.
In a summer lacking warmth at dawn.


Her lover sleeps, still rests on shelves unsold.
His lips are young and waits unbroken, sips
untouched just like a wait for death; a marriage woe
to never part, to faithfulness. Their oath once sealed
in stupored bile and recklessness, is now a chore
of waiting for a headstone by the liquor store.
She sighs and waits again for warmth
that only youthful arms like his can bring.

Woman with a glass of wine, by Lovis Corinth

Woman with a glass of wine, by Lovis Corinth


Today at toads, Grace introduces us to the poetry of Judith Wright at toads, and we should write something inspired by her poem. Her poem Metho Drinker really talked to me and I decided to write something inspired from that poem. The love-affair between alcohol and human know not of gender, and I decided to change the perspective. To be linked to Poetry Pantry as well.

37 responses to “A wino summmer

  1. “She urges her clock to measure seconds”
    “waiting for a headstone by the liquor store”

    These are my favorite lines.

    I read this as if there are two men … her husband and her lover. Her husband is an alcoholic, and she’s basically just waiting for him to die so that she can be with her young lover. I think it could be read in different ways, though.

    “blond” is also very close to “blind” … and “wino” is very close to “whine-oh,” both variations adding layering to the story

    “Her lover sleeps, still rests on shelves unsold.” … I love this line as well because it makes me think her “lover” could just be a character in a book. Maybe even not in a real book; maybe just someone she’s dreamed up … a hope for her future once she’s free.

  2. A strong message, brother, as we view the alcoholic downward spiral, & the realization that only the booze, now personalized as the young lover yet to be violated/his lips are young & waits unbroken/, the fucking liquor is the be-all, & soon enough will become the end-all.

  3. I admire the personification of the young lover as the liquor, specially this part:
    Their oath once sealed
    in stupored bile and recklessness, is now a chore
    of waiting for a headstone by the liquor store.

    Her wishes are indeed grey, when summer lacks warmth & openness of heart~ Thanks for participating with Sunday’s Challenge Bjorn & wishing you happy weekend ~

  4. Her lover sleeps, still rests on shelves unsold.
    His lips are young and waits unbroken, sips

    A lot of depth & emotion in this timeless piece 🙂
    Beautifully penned!

  5. Their oath once sealed is now a chore
    of waiting for a headstone by the liquor store.
    She sighs and waits again for warmth
    that only youthful arms like his can bring

    Such is the sin of the bottle to destroy the hopes of a faithful lady who is still hoping. Very evident in current situations. Great ending Bjorn!

    Hank

  6. “Their oath….is now a chore of waiting for a headstone by the liquor store.” Brilliant. I have seen the desperately unhappy marriage of human and bottle. It is never a pretty story. Such good writing, Bjorn.

  7. It is so easy to love another and live a life of regret, sorrow almost that one short life is never enough but long enough when you realize how your love has caused so much pain.

  8. At first addiction is as enticing as a lover..you get the rush, the thrill, the warmth…sadly it makes you old..empty..and the headstone of the liquor store is a place far beyond tears..what a wonderfully insightful poem..

  9. Your personification of alcohol as an ever youthful lover is very skillfully imagined in this piece.

  10. A sad piece of writing I may say. The struggle is real – relationship with a lover, relationship to alcohol. With the latter, it gives her to create a fantasy.

    Hope you had a great vacation Bjorn.

  11. It is hard when your lover is found in a bottle..sipping each taste to drown out the sorrow of time..I am afraid this lover will slowly kill her.

  12. So difficult when what we once loved (and felt it loved us back) becomes a path towards a terrible end… To look into eyes that used to make us smile and now cry with pain. So difficult and sad…

  13. Agree with Kerry–the idea of the lover as bottle is well done and pretty chilling. I can see the crumpled bills counted out. Agh. Very sad. Thanks, Bjorn. k.

  14. Poem like the painting you choose has shades and details to ponder about …this oath, some kind of commitment too…very well written!

  15. I love poems that write on paintings and other poems – they add additional depth to an image. Or, what I like about your piece, they add depth that you specifically see, and so add a story to a piece of art. Nicely done – I wonder what eventually becomes of this lady?

  16. Bjorn a very interesting tale of this ill-fated love affair….I especially loved…

    ‘Her lover sleeps, still rests on shelves unsold.
    His lips are young and waits unbroken, sips
    untouched just like a wait for death’

  17. This is a beautifully rendered piece that, I think, would evocate with many, many wine drinkers who have left the “confines” of social drinking far behind them.

  18. Bjorn, Bjorn. Another winner. Wino winner. This woman and her “young lover,” because the older lovers are too damned expensive for an alcoholic’s budget. My mom drank, and every word of this poem came alive for me, her life consumed by that consumption of alcohol, that bizarre dance with the lover who replaced my (horrible) father in her affections. Eventually booze replaced us all in her affections. This poem is one of your best, and that’s saying a hell of a lot. Bravo. Bra-freaking-VO! Amy

  19. “She urges her clock to measure seconds,
    heartbeats of those crumpled bills, precise amount;
    but yet his door is locked; her sigh is sour.
    In a summer lacking warmth at dawn.”

    A burden born by one can often grow too heavy to bear. A poignantly sad poem but beautifully penned. My fave is “…in a summer lacking warmth at dawn”—..incredible!.

  20. this poem makes me feel sorry for the both of them. each with their own troubles. here…sip this wine, it’ll make ya soar from your miseries. hehe…good job Bjorn!

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