The ritual.

~The Poet’s Poet~

My taste buds were bursting

You stood there, temptingly

Devils brew?

NO, Golden Nectar

Pint sized

Black with a Bishops collar

Perfectly turned out

Mine, yes my pint of stout

Reaching out

I clasped you tight

Lifted you from the bar counter

Slowly I drew you too my lips


Took one more admiring glance


One large swallow

Replaced you on the bar

It may be winter

But one swallow never made a summer

A nod in the direction of the barman

A companion was on the way

Black with a Bishops collar

Golden nectar.

© Chris Black. January 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #Guinness #Bishops collar a reference to the creamy head on a pint of Guinness.

3 thoughts on “The ritual.

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.