Whiskey Sonnet

A sonnet for whiskey.

A bottle of pure pain rests in my hand.

Whiskey is sweeter than an angels lips,

When I am well numb, and can hardly stand,

Then I will cease with the insipid sips.

For then I start gulping, as if for air,

My face bloody red; my eyes wild and mad!

Howling at God in his Heaven so fair,

Cursing this life and the troubles I’ve had.

Demons go bounding from my unlatched mouth,

Freed from their tombs at my sick gnarly depths.

A wretch slinging venom round and about;

Violent laughter and foul hellish breath.

B*****d! I hate him! Keep that beast at bay!

Perhaps I’ll just give this bottle away.

Author's Note

Form? Content? Any comments welcome.
Have a good day!

Reviews

[Robert Francis Callaci]

The smell of whiskey filled my nostrils as I read this piece. This is a hard edged drinking mans song- A visual drunk fest- Let the beast in and rip away- One hell of an ode to whiskey- Old Jack D is looking mighty tempting right now- missed your stuff one hell of a rollerwhiskey write...


my warmest
bob

[Frances O'Neill]

Very good! It sometimes takes all that to get you to realize where it is at, and it is probably just the bottle talking. Humorous.

[Last Lying Look]

I really liked this.
It was written exquisitely.
I love the idea here.
Excellent write.
-Elissa

[John Cuttito]

I liked it alot, it really brought out the feeling of whiskey..I personally wouldnt have given the bottle away though. As far as form... depths and breaths..? im not sure