Famers Market Hoot Wine Blues

[Bunx]

There is a wine, better than the rest.
Hoot wine split spines if you put
your courage to the absolute test.
What splendid jubilant mess you can
see at the farmers market jubilee.

Walking back and forth too and fro,
to which stand will you go? Flowing
in a cluster of man backwards, forwards
it is all the same. Supporting those
who support themselves to kill some
critical local time.

You can see two boys, buckets of beats.
dickson bunx is the duo name. Beating
left overs is their only way to explain
the nature of the hoot wine walk.
So put a sock in it prohibitionist, who does not
know death untill the hoot wine gave you a kiss.

A hoot kiss that is. A little lass strong but fare.
Glaring at you with a penetrating stare.
Unveiling your only desire, the simple life,
a farmer for hire. Hoot wine hostess
I am not your man. I could take you
to a land of promises. Like I said
everyday envy I feel for you hoot man.

Community beings greeting and meeting.
Like fish under the starving river, looking
for a fly to meet. So I greet this beautiful
blonde beauty. She looks so innocent like
a nun in black, but then she looks into
my milky eyes which have been gazing into hers.

There it is that familiar smile I saw at sixteen.
She was in my store once upon a time,
seeing directly at me.
My lips hide beneath my teeth and I say.
"I am rob, now we finally meet. Tell me about this wine."

[Brownlie]

Can you describe the physical aspects of the farmers market in more detail?

[Bunx]

brownlie added a paragraph hope you think it adds to the poem. it was fun to write

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haha this poem really same alive! thanks brownlie!