Man of Wine

She said, that man…

He tasted of wine,

That man, he…

He was never really mine.

That man…

Oh, what a gentle-man he was,

He saved me from myself,

And he’d hold me just because.

That man…

Mm, and what a man he was,

He made love to me each night,

Like no other man does.

That man…

Oh lord, the sweetest man that ever was,

He kissed me in the rightest way,

And said it is I he loves.

That man… She sighed,

That man of mine,

Oh that man… she reminisced,

How he tasted of sweet wine.


2 thoughts on “Man of Wine

  1. What I like about this poem is the repetition of “that man” that builds a story inbetween the lines. Good poetry manages to say more than the words mean. Or, put another way, paraphrasing the American poet Archibald MacLeish, a poem should mean, not say. This comes close to that ideal.

    1. Thank you a ton for the review! I’m shocked that I’ve already got someone looking at my work! I haven’t heard of Archibal MacLeish, if he a theorist as well as a poet? I must look him up! Thank you again =]

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