red wine has always been my favourite- you've just never asked.

red wine has always been my favourite- you’ve just never asked.
by rory byrnes
disappointment begins
where happiness ends.
daddy was right;
it might be time to come home.
my throat burns with
the winter season
not helping its cause.
the nicotine cravings
i now get at least
once an hour are never cured and
the cooling sensation of cough drops
will never feel as good as
the menthol smoke
seeping into my lungs.
as i listen to a underage drunken
teenager talk about
god knows what i have to
wonder what i actually know about god
or what he knows about me,
what my parents know,
what my small home town know
sand their comfortable living spaces
and paid for expenses know;
that girl must be up to something.
truth is:
i’m doing nothing.
absolutely nothing.

0 thoughts on “red wine has always been my favourite- you've just never asked.

  1. I really like the title, but the poem needs work. Perhaps if you drop the first 3 lines, and maybe put emphasis on the teenager blabbing… hell, give her a soliquiy… it might be more interesting.

  2. For me this succeeds in creating a desolate image of somebody stranded on the outskirts of their former life, with the road they just burned all their independence-high on elongating into a time-warp, not a dead end or anything, because that would be too certain (your first two lines are almost like a summary of this but it was the rest of the poem that really portrays the feeling).
    I think Joe’s suggestion about the first three lines is a good idea. It helps put distance between the character and the former life and portrays a kind of boldness to the “lost” feeling in the long run when you undercut the hopelessness.
    I got tangled up in the ending. Could use some smoothing out but the image stuck and I enjoyed reading it. Thanks.

  3. First of all Rory, are you a man or a woman? I think i screwed up on my last comment for a poem of yours thinking you were a guy and then assuming there was a gay-relationship going on in that piece. There’s nothing wrong with that.
    But anyways, listen to those other two commentors, Joe and Matt, they have good poetic instincts and have straightened out my Longfellow many times. hehehe. sorry, couldn’t resist. They’re cool. I think Matt would like more ellipses though. lol.
    The Poem: (what i should be writing about instead of blabbing). Compact piece! Starts and ends with a lonely red wine toast: We are islands unto ourselves…and it sucks! I know. Even when you build make-shift catamarans and travel thru tempests to others’ islands, it seems more times than oft after sharing your weed they ask you to leave. This time of year brings out a lot of depressed feelings i think. Sharing is good and knowing that you are alone with others who are alone (helps some?)…perhaps this can be broken up for a mere moment. What do you think? Then again, I’m sorta getting tired of that whole ‘You are not alone’ retort and i just want to say “Piss off! Paint my toenails aqua and let’s share some red wine by the fake fireplace!” That’s what i’m talking about.

  4. what i’m saying is, the point the author is making is that her life is empty–she’s ceased struggling to be interesting, but no one from her former life knows.
    therefore, adding drama would muck up the very point of the piece.
    and it means what i say it means, because i am the audience. 😉

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