Michele Habel-Coffey: Wine on the Lips


Art Credit: leannelanefineart.com

Wine on the Lips

By: Michele Habel-Coffey

I breathe in deeply and hold

Hoping to stave off the aftertaste

Of cheap wine and dying dreams

But the nine dollar red

Is soft on the palate

A delicious bitter-sweet

It leaves no after taste

It bears no acrid smell


It is yet cheap

I know a treasure when I taste it

Undervalued, underpriced

Underneath me

The world shifts

As the innocent wine envelops me

And sends me off

In a warm blanket of waking dreams

And a smile that arrives

The moments the memories permeate

And bring me back

Wine, you and I

We will see the future bound together

On cheap shelves

Touched by dime-store hands

And we will rise to the occasion

Passing one day around tables

On the lips of giants

Who will smell our vintage

And declare us rare indeed

Quote of the Day

“Meanwhile the wineglasses had flushed yellow and flushed crimson; had been emptied; had been filled. And thus by degrees was lit, halfway down the spine, which is the seat of the soul, not that hard little electric light which we call brilliance, as it pops in and out upon our lips, but the more profound, subtle and subterranean glow, which is the rich yellow flame of rational intercourse. No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.” ~ Virginia Woolf, “A Room of One’s Own”




A Sonnet by Michele Habel-Coffey

On the morning dew rest the tired clouds

Weary mists impervious to the blades

Of sharpened green to which they are now shrouds

Fair cousins, vapor, liquid, in the glades

Chance weather gives to them a moments’ touch

Before the bitter sun will force them ‘part

They linger for a time defying much

Water upon water, spirit, heart

To the ground and sky cruel heat does beckon

And to their places each must fall within

Their substance is the same where they are reckoned

But form defines their purpose and their whim

Life-giving waters wait upon the weather

Hoping once again they’ll be together

The Little Girl, She Dances


The Little Girl, She Dances

By Michele Habel-Coffey

The little girl, she dances
She jumps from beam to beam
A child’s game with sunshine
And the spaces in between

No touching on the shadows
Those demons, long and grey
Pink shoes are made for sunshine
And children made for play

But come now!  calls the woman
The time for play is done!
Hang those pink shoes up my child,
And down these stairs, you come!

The little girl, she lingers
For just a moment more,
A longing glance at hanging shoes
As she closes up the the door

I’ll be back for you, my dancing shoes!
I’ll be back for you, sunbeams!
Today is made for working and
Tonight is made for dreams

But the morning, glorious morning!
It’s filled with dancing light
A parting velvet curtain
On a stage of black and white

The little girl, she stirs now
As light passes ‘twixt her blind
And she rises up to dance again
With shadows on her mind.

Native Nose


Native Nose

by Michele Habel-Coffey

I stared into the side view mirror.

She was looking ahead at the road.

I don’t like my nose.

You have native nose.

Native nose?

You know what I mean.

I know what she means.

I know her meaning.

She is mean.

She is angular lines

Where there should be curves.

She is a pointed tip.

She is the triangle;

She knows no circles.

I have native nose?

She is native nose.


 Credit for eye art. Image found at the following address: