I long to be craved for
in the wee hours before
darkness melts into dawn;
I long to be the first thought
that enters your mind each day…
I long to be savored,
sweet and moist upon your lips
as morning rays slip the blinds
casting stripes on linen sheets.
I long to feel your soft breath
as you inhale the scent of me;
feel your pulse quicken
as my warmth teases your tongue
I long to arouse your senses
satisfy your thirst…
I long to be …
GINNY BRANNAN (Inside Out Poetry) resides in Massachusetts with her husband, son and three cats. Drawing inspiration from life, nature, and the human condition, her poetry has been published in four poetry collections including The d’Verse Anthology: Voices of Contemporary World Poetry, and three anthologies from Journey of the Heart: Women’s Spiritual Poetry.
Over My Morning Coffee
Over my morning coffee I read
About love between john and a red
Haired lady. I saw the pleas for
World peace and love between jamie
And all who follow her. And the names of
Frank, Linda, and those who travel and explore
food bloggers, bloaters, poets, dragons, two eyed kings
without any cards. And more for the readers who search
for the keys and treasures that rust and stay hidden and wait to be bidden
to search beyond the stars. Over my morning coffee I saw the world in a new light.
I saw a world of promise for those who are willing to stand up and fight.
I’m not a king who has the power
To tweet insults every hour
Nor do I desire to be heard
And claim the truth is in all my words.
If the king were to treat me nice
Or ask for my advice
I would not take a chance
Under any circumstance
To believe him as he raves and rants.
He’s not the kind of guy
Who’ll even try to see eye to eye.
He does what he wants to do,
No matter what might ensue.
He’s a doer, not a thinker,
I won’t swallow his yarns
Hook, line, and sinker.
He’s a king without social skill,
Bullying, badgering, from the Hill.
Rather than a model of decorum
For all the world to see,
He seems bent on dragging down,
The office that represents you and me.
To exchange barbed words from the throne,
Destroys the boundaries between right and wrong.
Those in power have offices to represent,
Not used to get even with those they resent.
My Morning Coffee ( added @ 04/04/2017, 4:14 p.m.)
On a crisp morning before the sun wakes,
Wanting to become instantly awake
I have my first cup of coffee,
I consider very important questions,
How much cream will it take?
Will coffee bring out the best of me?
I soon decide the world is in slow motion,
As i wake, one eye at a time,
All atrocities are to be dealt with later,
I enter my quiet moments of meditation,
Sipping slowly, shaking away yesterday,
Thinking about the beauty of today.
But not all is right with the world.
Russia and china are partnering,
Telling the United States to calm down,
Hold off on defensive missiles, wait until dark
When the world can sleep and dream
Of the perfect cup of coffee.
DAN ROBERTSON (My Blog) didn’t send me a bio and photo (or, maybe I forgot ask for one) but I’ve known him long enough to write a little something off the top of my head. Dan is a former teacher (high school I believe) and a father. One daughter is an accomplished artist. He’s a natural-born storyteller with one – maybe two – collections of short stories that were published some time ago. Dan’s been sharing stories and poetry on WordPress since November 2010. He is also the former owner of an online shop. Dan’s gentle spirit and strong intuitive sense is revealed in all his work. He studied journalism and communication at Cal State Sacramento. J.D.
Over My Morning Coffee
A sweetner and a hearty dose of creamer
await in a favorite mug,
for the hot medium roast,
not too strong.
The purple porch swing awaits
in the cool morning air
as the eastern sun flickers through
the tops of distant trees.
I swing gently, cradling the mug,
enjoying the warmth and
the ritual a bit more
than the coffee.
Contemplating the miracle of
the flow and ebb of life
as flowers bloom and die
in the perennial bed below.
PAT BAILEY, mulitalented and in retirement, publishes stunning photographs on her site, mainly of discoveries made on travel adventures with her husband. These are accompanied with savvy reflections and keen observations on life, relationships and aging. Pat worked at Spring Arbor University before her retirement. She studied psychology at Fielding Institute of Graduate Studies. She has an MSW (social work) and a Ph.D. (clinical psychology), which led to professional employment that she appears to have found gratifying. The meditations Pat posts on her blog reveal the perspectives gained from her work and the insights of a truly decent person. J.D.
::coffee::
can you make coffee, make
it last two hours? can you
talk?
when there is solitary, when
thoughts are enough to blend,
when all you thought you needed
was supplied, it takes encouragement
to talk.
hear yourself chat on and on
about nothing in particular,
or is it something, i can’t remember.
Morning coffee reminds her of years gone by
when she hustled to clean & tidy up the house
so untidy with five children running about
so she would be in readiness for parents
knowing that several pots would brew of a day
to give her the energy to persevere, strength
to be patient while her mother scrutinized,
criticized and ultimately laughed with her
but she knew as their car left the driveway
she would settle into a comfy spot dozing as
her caffeine high evaporated, energy waned
leaving her thinking of only the one cup
setting before her swirling, inviting to
remind her the pots of coffee that brewed
are but a memory no longer required, no
longer needed to get through parents visits
NEVER MORE
Something was playing with the cat,
Maybe it was the wind and nothing more.
But gusts of wind blowing this way and that,
Continued to rattle the creaky back door.
It had to be the wind and nothing more.
I woke from my tortured dreams,
“Someone is playing with my keys,” I thought.
“But the cat will keep intruders out,
If it is small, or nothing at all.”
In my dreams something shook the door.
“Please, please,” I pleaded. “Please, no more.
You must be a fake, for goodness sake,”
Or nothing but my dream and nothing more.”
The wind began to pound and roar.
I pulled the covers over my head.
“I hope I don’t wake up all bloody and dead.”
But it was nothing, nothing but the wind,
Howling at my door.
I lit a fire and waited for it to grow high.
I started the coffee brewing,
And waited to see what the wind was doing.
“Nevermore,” howled the wind, “Do I want to hear your snore.”
“I like the rain and the constant dripping,
The leaves rustling against your door.
But your snore, nevermore! “
By dan roberson
July 4, 2017
On a crisp morning before the sun wakes,
Wanting to become instantly awake
I have my first cup of coffee,
I consider very important questions,
How much cream will it take?
Will coffee bring out the best of me?
I soon decide the world is in slow motion,
As i wake, one eye at a time,
All atrocities are to be dealt with later,
I enter my quiet moments of meditation,
Sipping slowly, shaking away yesterday,
Thinking about the beauty of today.
But not all is right with the world.
Russia and china are partnering,
Telling the United States to calm down,
Hold off on defensive missiles, wait until dark
When the world can sleep and dream
Of the perfect cup of coffee.
July 4, 2017
Morning Jamie! Just like that my poem is there! You are quick! I clicked on your coming soon announcement and it took me to Wikipedia? Maybe I wasn’t suppose to do that. Is it going to be another blog? I look forward to seeing it. Be well.
by 
Jamie Dedes' THE POET BY DAY Webzine 
beautiful collection http://bit.ly/2sTKeOB
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Thank you! They all did well, I think, Sparah!
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Very honored that two of my poems were featured today on “The Poet by Day!” With deepest thanks and much appreciation for sharing my words, Jamie!
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I’m so pleased you came out to play with us, Ginny.
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NEVER MORE
Something was playing with the cat,
Maybe it was the wind and nothing more.
But gusts of wind blowing this way and that,
Continued to rattle the creaky back door.
It had to be the wind and nothing more.
I woke from my tortured dreams,
“Someone is playing with my keys,” I thought.
“But the cat will keep intruders out,
If it is small, or nothing at all.”
In my dreams something shook the door.
“Please, please,” I pleaded. “Please, no more.
You must be a fake, for goodness sake,”
Or nothing but my dream and nothing more.”
The wind began to pound and roar.
I pulled the covers over my head.
“I hope I don’t wake up all bloody and dead.”
But it was nothing, nothing but the wind,
Howling at my door.
I lit a fire and waited for it to grow high.
I started the coffee brewing,
And waited to see what the wind was doing.
“Nevermore,” howled the wind, “Do I want to hear your snore.”
“I like the rain and the constant dripping,
The leaves rustling against your door.
But your snore, nevermore! “
By dan roberson
July 4, 2017
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dan, this is great fun. Bravo! I’ll hold it at this point. Am thinking about a good time and place to publish it. All smiles here, my friend.
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My Morning Coffee
On a crisp morning before the sun wakes,
Wanting to become instantly awake
I have my first cup of coffee,
I consider very important questions,
How much cream will it take?
Will coffee bring out the best of me?
I soon decide the world is in slow motion,
As i wake, one eye at a time,
All atrocities are to be dealt with later,
I enter my quiet moments of meditation,
Sipping slowly, shaking away yesterday,
Thinking about the beauty of today.
But not all is right with the world.
Russia and china are partnering,
Telling the United States to calm down,
Hold off on defensive missiles, wait until dark
When the world can sleep and dream
Of the perfect cup of coffee.
July 4, 2017
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Nice, Dan. Am pasting it into the post now.
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Morning Jamie! Just like that my poem is there! You are quick! I clicked on your coming soon announcement and it took me to Wikipedia? Maybe I wasn’t suppose to do that. Is it going to be another blog? I look forward to seeing it. Be well.
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Another blog. Thanks for the heads-up. Happy 4th.
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Reblogged this on sonja benskin mesher and commented:
::coffee::
::coffee been::
&
::harrogate in the rain::
published in ‘The Poet by Day’
thanks to G Jamie Dedes
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