“MONARCH OF THE WINES.”      

Ø  It’s man’s fascination for anything new

In grapes he fermented a silken brew

For reasons best known to the mankind

They prefer to call it, “MONARCH OF THE WINES”.

Ø  The little imp descended from the sky

Between hell & earth he seemed to ply

From the earth he’ll carry some great evil

As a befitting present to his master devil.

Ø  Horror! What he saw on Earth?

The joyous sight of a full harvest

He zoomed upward with a fiendish yell

To tell his master in the hell.

Ø  “O, why are you back”? Devil wished to know

Said imp, ‘So shall you reap as you sow’

Men harvest merrily in sheer pleasure

That golden corn is the gift of the year.

Ø  Then go back soon, O Imp, without respite

Merry makings will last only for tonight

‘Morrow you show them the novel extraction

Brew the corn well, that’s my suggestion.

Ø  The job was done with much precision

The Imp obeyed, the Devil’s decision

Thus came to Earth this gift of demons

The cherished drink, Devil is its ingridience.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ø  It’s first cup is for all to cheers

Brings out niceties within one that rears

Here man is like a lackey or a dog

Sparkle in his eyes, will soon change to smog.

Ø  Even modest men brag & tongues run amuck

That’s the magical effect after second cup

Watch them, now is some pleasure

Munching, crunching, every tongue is but eager.

Ø  When third cup consumed, voices grow hoarse

‘Toxication appears in fustian discourse

The scene is real with free for all

Like swines & wolves in a drunken brawl.

Ø  That cup is for devil, which goes beyond three

No one should touch it, even if comes free

The lure of wine should best be declined

Devil speaks through his mouth, which’s drunk & wined.

Ø  Alas! Strange are the ways of destiny

That willingly in his mouth one puts an enemy

That steels away his brain while merrily he drinks

Transforms into a beast, thinks like a king of kings.

Ø  “MONARCH OF THE WINES”,

Like an innocuous looking bovine

Surely, it takes us in a merry flight

The journey is hazardous, that’s the sad plight.

Written by.  K. K. Gulati.