Over wine

So here we all are,

discussing art, poetry and the modern poets.

Here we are, with our quirks

our tattoos, our playlists

our countries of origin.

I’m one hundred percent Greek,

my friend is Mexican, Australian,

American, Indian, Albanian,


a mini-multicultural microcosm

of poets. We share the best lines

over morning coffee, exchange smiles

over lunch and family pictures over supper.

In another life we were at the courts

with a glass of wine and time on our hands,

quill and ink, ideologies and war,

we had each other close.

Now technology draws us so close

we can almost smell each other’s

perfume. We can almost feel

each other’s pain. We can create  a

movement, change CEO’s reports,

shock them with a poetic force.

We are turning the hands

of time forward,

over wine.

And still art

doesn’t sell,

and poets do not make money

let us work our two jobs,

go back to school,

raise a family,

write at midnight,

check our status updates.

Here we are.

Ready for the darts

and critics.

Here we are

at your disposal

for abuse,

but at least

we have each other’s back

from oceans and miles away.

The poet’s circle





  1. Eric · December 17, 2015

    I’ll always have yours, Flameblooded Poetess. ❤
    Thank you for writing this.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. thelonelyauthorblog · December 17, 2015

    Bravo Chrissy. Well said. “Ready for the darts and critics. Here we are at your disposal for abuse, but at least we have each other’s back.” Writers expose themselves like exhibitionists for all the world to see.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Erika Kind · December 17, 2015

    Right!!! One big poetic family!

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Akanksha Krishnatre · December 18, 2015

    Greatly written. And as Erika kind said “one big poetic family .”

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Souldiergirl · December 18, 2015

    This is exactly it. Ugg how I adore you, in all our lifetimes

    Liked by 1 person

  6. breathwords · December 23, 2015

    So freaking true! Well put 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  7. dougstuber · January 5, 2016

    We’ve woven a web, you and I,
    attached to the world, for no matter
    how long, inscribed, though poorly, for
    scant eyes, still, as bright a love aura as
    has ever glowed, tightly wound around
    our hearts, yet soaring miles above
    Moodeung’s fog to warm cold February.
    Sparks fly off a round-rock fire rarely seen
    in these parts. We laugh, it feels like we
    shouldn’t be here on a cold winter night,
    just a few meters from trails so packed
    during the day. This charge will never
    leave. We’ve marked this space but must
    go to where the stars shine, deer run, art springs.
    Keep my heart in your brain, words in your hair.
    Matched lifelong yearning bursts in my hand,
    fluorescent. Quick, pack what you need, let’s
    flee! live life in the positive zone, expand
    what we enjoy together, bound by the luck
    that brought us this far. Where to next?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chrissy · January 5, 2016

      did i inspire that? humbled! love the words in your hair! amazing my friend! x


  8. dougstuber · January 5, 2016

    I admit you were not yet in my scope when I wrote this one. Plus, we’ve never hung out on Moodung mountain, at least as far as I know. How about this one then?

    Here she blossoms fueled by soft desire.
    Aching heart yearns for a simple, happy mate.
    No one stops today, but she lit a fire.
    X-Ray shows her fertile ground can’t wait.
    Unless you are a fool, you will touch her now.
    Enjoy it when you discover where and how.

    Liked by 1 person

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