the corkscrew

"The Corkscrew"

In the cellar,
green-glass vessels lean

           against one another,
   their shoulders dust-padded,
        throats sealed tight.

 

Some wait decades,
stoppered against the tremor of hands
that might one day twist them open.

Others burst early,
foam rushing into the air
as if silence itself were unbearable.

 

Life, too, is a rack of bottles-
some forgotten in the corner,
                labels blurred,
contents thickening into memory.

Others are restless,
pressing against their corks,
                       uncontainable,
a fizz that refuses to be archived.

 

And we-
we are the corkscrews,
spiralling into the grain of our own days,
levering against the stubborn seal,
wondering whether release
                      is celebration,
or simply another form of spilling.

 

 

 

 

.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

Superb for its various moods.Is how life can be, how wine can be.. Seems years vary in the drinkable as do people's lives. We each remain physically the same but life and time alters birth's intention. Your words are not only of wine but how we humans change from birth to death.. till not sure whether to spit or what. Meantime will just applaud and enjoy.

'we are the corkscrews,
spiralling into the grain of our own days,
levering against the stubborn seal,
wondering whether release
is celebration,
or simply another form of spilling.'

[redd Brick Keshner]

Wow, now there's a turn of phrase, ejg: "altering birth's intention!" Most delightful interaction. Thank you🙏🕊️

[emmajoygreen]

You're welcome. Have been to a few wine tastings in France, Italy and Germany! Have heard that those are not necessarily the best because the best is kept for their nationals! One learns to discrimate however.. or perhaps - truth be known, use one's own palate and try!

[emmajoygreen]

Must learn to spell! Discriminate - I think!

[Lorry]

I used to be so shiny green and sparkly with a lovely bright red label, but I was kept on the bottom shelf so long that no one wanted to reach that low, so I am now a dust covered relic of futility. I long to be spilled and savoured but I am entombed by dust and barely visible.
I tell myself I am too special to be drank, but I know we all tell ourselves that!
It's just notes fun being of an antique vintage that only collectors are interested in. I will be sold eventually im sure but drank, I doubt it! 😀

[redd Brick Keshner]

Now there’s an internalisation that favours the poem! Thanks, Lorry🕊️🙏🏻

[Michael Sun Bear]

Very interesting Frederick. Your fine poem made me reflect upon my own life. Long ago I married into a family of uncontainable fizz, my wife’s two sons bursting from the bottle, unable to age like fine wine but forever remaining selfish children. It was a very difficult aspect of our marriage which is no more. I am 74, stricken suddenly with a serious cardiac problem, and your analogies have me thinking of Death being the corkscrew that really matters, when we emerge from the bottle to find whether we have aged into a fine vintage ripe with the flavors of our life just lived, or whether we emerge “corked.”

[redd Brick Keshner]

The application of the poem as a kind of parable is uncanny and yet serves as a vessel for thought and introspection. Thanks for sharing yours, dear friend. Hope that all is well with you. 🙏🏻🕊️