ANNOUNCEMENT!!

TWO chances to join Open Link Live (OLN LIVE) this month:
* Thursday, August 24th from 3 to 4 PM EST and
* Saturday, August 26th, from 10 to 11 AM EST
Simply click on the link that will be provided and join us with video and audio. Read a poem of your choice or just come to listen. The more the merrier!
NOTE: You may still post ONE poem as usual to OLN, even if you do not join us live.

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Hi everyone! I live in the Ontario Province, which is the East-Central part of Canada. One of the attractions that we have after viewing the Niagara Falls is to visit the Niagara-On-the Lake town, which is found in the southern part of Ontario. This is a quaint charming town with a wine tasting tour for the wine lovers. We took part in the wine tasting tour years ago and I discovered the Canadian Ice Wine. Icewine is a dessert wine renowned for its intense flavours, rich bouquet and unsurpassed smoothness. It is produced from grapes that have been left on the vine after the fall harvest. When temperatures dip to -8ºC (or lower) the frozen grapes are handpicked and pressed immediately to carefully release a thick, rich, yellow-gold liquid, highly concentrated in natural sugars and acidity. This is is one of my favorite bottle of wine to buy when we have special events. The shape of the bottle is very slim and narrow, and yes, the cost is more expensive than table wine.

You might be wondering what the prompt is for today’s poetics. Not about wine, but about the bottle (big, small, contents, consequences, attraction,etc). I am a social drinker but I am also very much aware of the consequences of too much consumption of the bottle, that it leads to addiction. I have seen the homeless folks begging in Toronto City where I work, with empty liquor bottles and needles on the ground. It is a different world which I do not fully understand as I have not experienced addiction from the bottle myself, but I have empathy and compassion for these individuals. I celebrate their small steps towards sobriety, learning new skills, finding employment and becoming positive role models themselves in helping other people. I support organizations with these goals in our city.

We have many consumer products in a bottle. Here are some poems to give you some ideas for writing.

Bottled Water

BY KIM DOWER

I go to the corner liquor store
for a bottle of water, middle
of a hectic day, must get out
of the office, stop making decisions,
quit obsessing does my blue skirt clash
with my hot pink flats; should I get
my mother a caregiver or just put her
in a home, and I pull open the glass
refrigerator door, am confronted
by brands—Arrowhead, Glitter Geyser,
Deer Park, spring, summer, winter water,
and clearly the bosses of bottled water:
Real Water and Smart Water—how different
will they taste? If I drink Smart Water
will I raise my IQ but be less authentic?
If I choose Real Water will I no longer
deny the truth, but will I attract confused,
needy people who’ll take advantage
of my realness by dumping their problems
on me, and will I be too stupid to help them
sort through their murky dilemmas?
I take no chances, buy them both,
sparkling smart, purified real, drain both bottles,
look around to see is anyone watching?
I’m now brilliantly hydrated.
Both real and smart my insides bubble
with compassion and intelligence
as I walk the streets with a new swagger,
knowing the world is mine.

 

Reflection
BY ELIZABETH ARNOLD

I said

no to you
so often, couldn’t see.

Do you know how that

changed you
—divided

what you saw in me

or anything
(if you did)

from what you

said
or mostly

didn’t?

And another bottle
drained,

your head

lolling off the chair’s back,
the mirror’s

face blacked.

 

The Orange Bottle
BY JOSHUA MEHIGAN

The clear orange bottle was empty.
It had been empty a day.
It suddenly seemed so costly
and uncalled for anyway.

Two years had passed. They had passed
more or less the way years should.
Maybe he’d changed. Or maybe
the doctors had misunderstood.

It was June. The enormous elm tree
was green again, and the scent
of   hyacinth reached through the window
and followed wherever he went.

And the sky was the firmament!
His life was never better.
Each small white spotless cloud that passed
was like a long-wished-for letter.

But then he remembered his promise.
It came like a mild cramp,
and it sat there all day in the back of   his mind
like a gas bill awaiting a stamp.

He saw three faces that Sunday,
mother, sister, niece,
all with the same kind, brown, scared eyes
that brought him no peace.

The sidewalk sparrows were peeping.
His whole house smelled like a flower.
But he remembered his promise.
The drugstore said one hour.

Back home again, he was tired.
The label said caution, said warning.
He left the clear orange bottle
on the lip of   the sink till morning.

The insert said warning, said caution.
The insert said constipation.
It said insomnia, vivid dreams,
and hypersalivation,
and increased urination,
and a spinning sensation.

It also said night sweats, and
agranulocytosis,
and strongly suggested a full glass of   water
be drunk with all doses.

The insert said all this,
the insert he never read.
But he didn’t have to read it
to know what it said.

The bedroom was calm with moonlight
and the breeze through the screen was cooling.
Through the elm leaves the shivery light on the wall
came like quicksilver pooling.

But   just before five, something woke him —
a close whisper — or maybe a far cry —
and the bedroom was queasy with light the color
of   lapis lazuli.

He lay there listening hard
till six, till seven, till eight    …
At nine he remembered the bottle.
But nine, nine was too late.

“Don’t take me!” cried the Clozapine.
“Don’t take me!” cried the pill.
By ten he was feeling restless,
with a whole day left to kill.

“Don’t take me!” cried the Clozapine.
“Yes, don’t!” cried the medication.
And the bright yellow morning seemed suddenly edged
with a shady fascination.

Please continue to read here.

The writing challenge is to use the word bottle and its contents in your poem. What is brewing inside the bottle? Is it your favorite/least liked drink or food seasoning? Is there a message in a bottle, or a fantastic pirate ship? Go real or surreal if you like. Unbottle and uncork your words for us to read. Poetry form is your choice.

If you are new, here’s how to join us:

*Write a poem based on the writing challenge as described above. Post it on your blog or website.
*Enter your name and direct link to your poem in Mr. Linky.
*Remember to check the box re: privacy policy.
*Follow the links to other poets. Read and comment on other poems. We all appreciate feedback on our poems.
*Link back to dVerse so others can find us too.
*Have fun!