Whisky Burn

You complimented the whisky on its burn

while I scowled a tight lipped pucker against my teeth

as if I could suck the taste away.

Smoke stung I groped for something sweeter,

hands landing on skin instead,

you pressed fire kisses to my mouth.

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I think I’ll have another crack at the Quadrille Prompt ‘burn’ later on tonight because I’m not happy with how this one turned out. The last line doesn’t sit quite right but I ran out of words.

 

 

51 Comments

  1. Smiling I am! First, I am definitely not a whisky or scotch drinker…when I sip it, it burns all the way down!…so I love your description here. And then “fire kisses”….ooooh yes!

    1. Thank you very much. I’m actually looking for a few people to give me some feedback on a poem I just posted that’s a little more political and perhaps even personal than my usual fare. Would you mind? It’s called Legs Eleven.

  2. Thank you for visiting my poetry. Forrester with two r’s was my mother’s maiden name. I am not phishing, just thought our families could be related. The Forresters moved around the Appalachians alot during the Depression, looking for work. West Virginia, Virginia, Pennsylvania. Maybe you did the Ancestry thing and know if your family is Scotch-Irish too.

  3. That’s a great take on the prompt, Carol. I drank when I was a teenager but many years ago decided that I really don’t like the taste of alcohol. I remember the burn of whisky and recognise the ‘tight lipped pucker’! I love the final lines – a sweet twist with fire kisses.

    1. Thank you Kim, I’m not much a drinker for a similar reason. Fruity cider and very, very sweet rose are about the only two things I can drink without wanting to spit it straight back up .

    1. Thank you very much Sannaa. If you’ve got the time, I’d love to get some fellow female bloggers to take a glance at a poem I just posted called Legs Eleven. I don’t normally get very political with my poems but this one sort of just came out .

  4. I’ve had that happen, run out of words for a Quadrille and it’s not quite right at the end. I find myself going back and trying to figure out which little words I can delete earlier to give me more options. I think you did just fine with this one, though.

  5. I think the last line is good but it did make me shudder and remember some not so sweet days of youth and working in public bars and the sickly stale smell of the booze and the unwanted attention.

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