A Wee Dram

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A Wee Dram

The dancing flames lick gently at the grate,
a bottle splashes amber to the glass,
soft chimes reminding that the hour is late,
aromas drift of peat and harsh deer grass,
the smoky mist of morning, with each pass.
The glow of bonfires as I gently kiss,
letting the rich swelling flavours amass
and burn upon my lips, no thoughts but this –
“how can something so bitter bring such bliss”.
As if in answer, the fire spits a knot,
the kettle bursts with steam and deigns to hiss,
reminding me that good things can be hot.
I close my eyes in winter warmth and bask
in age old liquid nurtured from the cask.

good cheerheatscottish whiskysonnetspenserian sonnetwhiskywinter

◄ Anti-Christ(mas)

Good Times ►


Steve Smith

Sun 28th Dec 2014 18:11

A glass full of the pure stuff! Lovely work!
Steve Smith

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Gray Nicholls

Wed 17th Dec 2014 19:46

excellent stuff, ian with a nice ending. good stuff m8.

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Ged the Poet

Wed 17th Dec 2014 16:24

A poem to make you feel as warm as toast!

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M.C. Newberry

Wed 17th Dec 2014 13:22

The Georgians and Victorians knew enough to
value the pleasing effects of "good cheer".
These lines are equally pleasing and bring
good cheer of their own. Appreciated!
I've had my share of wee drams at Christmas
down the years, usually as chasers with
pints of ale. The one spirit of Christmas
Past that nearly did for me was brandy.
Never again do I want to lie abed with the room spinning around while feeling unable
to move.
It was enough to make me promise myself
never to touch that particular drink again.

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Laura Taylor

Wed 17th Dec 2014 11:33

Mmmm - wonderful poem, hugely evocative, cracking imagery.

ps - I didn't think there were quite enough swear words in your xmas poem ;)

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John Coopey

Tue 16th Dec 2014 20:53

Not my cup of tea, I'm afraid, Ian. (Whisky, that is; not the poem. The poem is excellent).
The subtle discipline enhances the imagery (which I can taste).

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