Grapes of Wrath

Grapes of Wrath

I always wanted to be
Lemonade
Sweet, simple, citrus
Dainty and fresh
Summer zest
But I’m afraid
Life refused to let me be
Lemonade

Instead, I aged
Bloomed, blossomed forth
Borne of the grapes of wrath
Ripened and stewed
I brewed, within
Simmered under the surface
Of my skin
Bottled the rage up
And the anger
And the passion
And the lust
I was not born
To slake a thirst
-but to inspire it
Not comfort, but if you want
Addiction
I can provide it
To enrapture and tantalize
Hypnotize
Again, and again

I am a fine wine, my friend

©CM
15.01.2014

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15 thoughts on “Grapes of Wrath

  1. I of July says:

    you’d think it’s one of the Joads speaking 🙂 … reminded me of Steinbeck… very nice

    Like

  2. globalunison says:

    Oh yeah cookie, you are the fine wine :))

    Blessings,
    -Naima

    Like

  3. …”I was not born to slake a thirst, but to inspire it”…god that line!

    Okay…now write “A poem of slaking”…yeah?
    YES

    Like

  4. Madsies says:

    A fine wine it is then.

    Like

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