Bogle Phantom

The name Bogle comes from the Scots word for phantom and this, their namesake wine, disappears like one too. A blend of 54% petite sirah, 43% zinfandel and 3% mourvédre, The Phantom is a haunting, fruit forward wine that begins with traces of blueberries, violets, chocolate-covered cherries and black pepper on the nose. Subtle notes of spice, clove and mocha complement the wine's fruit characteristics on the palate, finishing with toasting oak aromas from two years in a combination of one, two and three year old American oak. Enjoy now or let it rattle around in the cellar for a few years, but act fast, before the vintage vanishes.

Julie, Ann and I shared a bottle of this wonderful wine at Brix on Saturday night. Needless to say, my dreams were wild and in technicolor later that night.



I should resist
another glass of wine
cease and desist
though I feel so fine

One more glass
wouldn't be so terrible
this time would pass
and be more bearable

Why should I abstain
from this Chardonnay cocoon
wine entertains
even though it's only noon...


Lush Lust

Lush Lust

the lust of this lush
that first drink rush

to be held
with a drinkers grip
inhibitions expelled

cocktails give no lip
puppy love, a crush
eternal courtship

my wants make me blush
many faceted
the lust of this lush


Mischief--Inspired by Tequila

these moonbeams
make that vacant
swimming pool
look so inviting

my dress is so
e a s y
to take off and I am
so warm, really

a skinny little dip
would be so fat
and juicy

once in,
the water is my new dress
it fits so well

he swims toward me and
we giggle like

my discarded
red dress
watches us rejected and


3 Lanturnes

I don't
have any
good chardonnay

that's left
is some old
wine I bought on

cheap and
last ditch but
it is all I

I've never heard of this poetic form before. It's called "lanturne" or "lantern" because it kind of looks like a Japanese lantern. It is a five line poem with a syllabic pattern of one, two, three, four, one. Has anyone else ever heard of a lanturne? I couldn't find anything about this particular form's origin.


Books, Poetry and Wine

A few days ago, my book club met to discuss Lush Life by Richard Price. I loved the book and we had a great discussion for about 20 minutes and then somehow we started drinking wine and, well, you know how those things go.

I demanded a retake, obviously. Doesn't Kevin know that I like to be front and center?

That's better, don't you think? Anyway, now for today's poem, "D:"

dissolved decorum
d e l i c i o u s
I daresay
a diminutive dab
will do you
dysfunction dwindles
with each drink
distress disappears
dull is dismissed
Darling, let's discover
this delightful
definite and distilled


Poem Scribbled on a Cocktail Napkin

after one too many
beefeater rocks
I can think only
of drunk skunks
on a Saturday night

while ordering Jack
with a beer back
I wonder how
a skunk
could be drunk

Right now, I'm
curious and I ask
myself if skunks
only drink
on the weekends

and what
does a skunk
drink on a
Saturday night?

these questions
melt into
like ice
in my glass

Saadia Reads 'Shopping'


Basil Hayden Bourbon

bourbon undiluted
disorder recruited
gravity refuted
virtue polluted

tedium persecuted
ennui executed
necessity substituted
indulgence saluted

these times voluted
obligation muted
each drink computed
my essence diluted

*Darling Basilwire and Snz couldn't make it to my book event at The Book Cellar in Chicago, so they sent a bottle of Basil Hayden bourbon instead. Though I would have loved to have met them, the bourbon is almost too good to be true.

I've used sonic repetition in this poem. Sonic repetition is basically sounds repeated in a poem or another piece of writing. Many poets feel that sonic repetition is best left for performative poetry.


Johnnie Walker Blue Label

top shelf recall
mind opening
a door left ajar
only to reveal
a collection
of curiosities

two fingers of
should be
as easy as
savoring the taste
of this brilliant whisky



After the shots, I wrote this poem:


he offers

princess cut diamonds

with first class fixes

chinchilla guarantees

my weight in gold

protected in an offshore account

all for one real smile

and I still think

that he asks

too much

of me


Krug Observations

the drinking glass
tuxedoed men
look like a line
of dominoes
waiting for a push

old ladies
with little girl voices
cookie cutter princesses
well preserved
dressed for battle
armed with artifice

this boozy, blurry realm
where little
white lies
seem to be
the new black




my private serenade:
weeknight wonderful
while playing hooky from
accountability. Drinking
in dreadlocked dulcets--
full bodied and fine

sweet like sugar, he
whisper sings to me
while I ask for more
Cabernet. Brilliant
temptation with just
six strings and
five fingers

Does anyone remember my previous post about Adrian Bartholomew? The boy is trouble, but Irresistible (with a capital 'I'). I ran into him a few nights ago when I was with my book club...




Lifestyles of the Bored and Jaded

hoping for matching socks
and meals that magically appear
an obvious paradox
both far and very near

mother's little helpers
play well with pinot grigio
one day whispers
yesterday is long ago

a sink full of dishes
hard to swallow screams
it's always Prozac wishes
and sweet Ambien dreams


A Recipe that Reads like a Poem

written after drinking micheladas with my brother

if you squeeze
one unbruised lime into
a heavy glass mug
then add
a pinch of good salt
a handful of ice cubes
made with spring water
three dashes of the hottest sauce
you can stand
two long shakes
of smuggled worcestershire
and one ice cold Corona
you'll have
a michelada--
twelve ounces and
four satisfying syllables
of paradise


Saadia Reads 'Before'

This poem is in my book: lavish lines/luscious lies. I think it begs to be read aloud!



Should I
open this box?
A polite trespasser
Dom knocks

Fern green box
a constant taunt
unsealed, available
what I want

Escape, I think,
if I relent
restraint devours
this wicked torment

opening this box
my quick fix
on my travels
along the River Styx



So, I made a bet. A stupid, f***ing bet. On Saturday night, I bet a friend of my husband's that I could go two weeks (two weeks!!!) without having an alcoholic beverage. It didn't seem like any big deal at the time I was making the bet--I have two children, after all--and I never drank when I was pregnant. I did make the bet after enjoying a few glasses of wine so my judgement might have been slightly impaired. The bottom line is this: I can not drink until 7PM on February 16th. Pray for me, Readers.

All I can think about is
Booze. Pretty bottles, entertaining spirits, the
Clink--ice dropped into a heavy, crystal glass.
Disappointed? Don't I know it.
Everyone seems to think that I
Flirt too much with Chardonnay,
Grey Goose and Guinness.
Heavenly, the variety
I'm normally able to choose from
Jumping up and down--a
Kid in a candy store or
Like a woman at Neiman Marcus. This
Myriad of mixes tempts
Not only me, but myself and I.
Often, my
Palate and my determination will
Quarrel. Quit it, my
To my palate
Understand this, my discipline keeps talking,
Vino isn't a necessity
Why won't willpower shut up, I wonder? I wish I lived in
Xanadu, where both
You and I know that
Zealotry is outlawed.

This is an example of an abecedarian poem. I would explain, but I think you probably get the gist. Plus, I'm too sober.



sweet green fairy
anise flavored liquor
psychoactive and powerful
burns through my granite facade easily
melting a fireproof box full of
good intentions, virtue
restraint on fire

I have two different things to tell you, Sweet Readers. First of all, absinthe was very popular with 19th century intellectuals, poets and artists like Oscar Wilde and Vincent Van Gogh. Besides having a very high alcohol content (120 to 160 proof), Absinthe is said to induce a dreamlike state, enhance creativity and facilitate artistic expression. (Of course, I wouldn't know anything about that). Absinthe was banned in the United States in 1915 because of the high doses of thujone (the chemical found in wormwood). In March of 2007, the FDA approved a specially manufactured version of absinthe that doesn't have the high levels of thujone. Now, American absinthe drinkers can buy and enjoy the liquor legally.

Okay, now about the poetic form. The above poem is an example of a rictameter, which is a nine line poem with a very specific syllabic count. The syllables count 2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4,2 with the first and ninth line being identical. There is no rhyme scheme whatsoever.


Booze Clues

a few sips
and I cruise
on an infinite fuse
toward my
sweet muse
to clarify
not confuse
not accuse
this is what
I choose
this is
my news
I effuse
these drinks
why would I
knowing to
is to



Carefully, I
Neverending syllables
Unfinished verses
No, I want to shriek, I will not
Do this literary labor
Right now, I want to
Unwind, ignore these wicked words and
Maybe have a drink

This is an example of an acrostic. An acrostic is a poem or series of lines in which certain letters, usually the first in each line, form a name, motto, or message when read in sequence. For instance, the first letter of each line of this poem is highlighted. It reads 'conundrum.'