“Cravings …” and other fabulous coffee poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt … grab a cuppa joe and join us

A selection of Bialetti moka pots at Koffiebranderij BOON in The Hague, by Takeaway under CC BY-SA 4.0

Coming soon from The Poet by Day: Coffee, Tea and Poetry – bookmark it now, debut to be announced


Thanks to all the poets who came out to play last week for Wednesday Writing Prompt June 28, “tell us about your morning coffee …. or tea.”  

A cup of java, a Danish, and thou. What could possibly be better in a world gone mad? Enjoy …


The View Over Morning Coffee

I’ve yet to tire of the view
refined by changes over time
the tiny shafts of morning light
brighten landscape till it shines.

And on the grass the morning dew
reflects like diamonds on each blade
dampness slow to dissipate
it lingers under oaken shade

The shadows shift, the seasons pass
a single constant still remains:
I see the young man I once knew
despite the years, he hasn‘t changed.

How do you know if love will last,
as decades pass will it remain?
If face that greets you in the morn
in ages hence will still sustain?

I’ve yet to tire of your face
familiar as my mirrored own…
your smile lines, your silver threads;
our stories etched on skin and bone.

As morning breaks we pour a cup
and through the steam we greet the day,
again I’m taken with the view:
your smile takes my breath away.

© Ginny Brannan 2017 (Inside Out Poetry)

Cravings…

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 …

… coffee

© Ginny Brannan 2017 (Inside Out Poetry)

(c) Ginny Brannon

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.

© 2017, Dan Roberson (My Blog)

The King and I, Morning Coffee Contemplation

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.

© 2017, Dan Roberson (My Blog)

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.

© 2017, Dan Roberson (My Blog)

(c) Dan Roberson

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.

© 2017, Pat Bailey (A New Day: Living Life Almost Gracefully , Photography and Thoughts About Life and Aging)

(c) Pat Bailey

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.

i am not sure that talking says anything.

really.

learn to care.

© 2017, Sonja Benskin Mesher (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA)

::coffee been ::

i wished it had bean
an orange cup, i wish
there had bean beans,

yet all were ground and
brewed, and i have
not bean so good
at this one, so

you do not need
to like, then i will
not need to thank
thee.

i feel like i bean an has
bean, in today’s
challenge.

© 2017, Sonja Benskin Mesher (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA)

:: these trees ::

harrogate in the rain.

cheap umbrella broke,

a delightful shade of pink,

abandoned.

abandoned the street

for the parlour, the crown.

mourned my shoes, wet

and ripping.

dripping

white nubuck.

watched the trees,

falling leaves.

good coffee

opposite

the pumproom.

harrogate.

© 2017, Sonja Benskin Mesher (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA)


The Gift

Evening. Friends arrive with cake.
All have coffee.

They come to see part feral kitten
abandoned by their new home’s

owner they brought to us. She lolls
on the bed in our spare room.

TV is on. Candles in Berlin.
We swap gifts. Latte glasses

for them, cake for us.
Laughter. Cinnamon pastry

and walnut Christmas cake.

TV is on. Berlin flickers in the dark.
Time for leaving.

Hugs and best wishes.

© 2017, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow)

Decided

She has decided everything
must have a flat surface else it will fall

and make a mess, small red trays for tea and coffee, big white trays for meals in

front of the t.v., and puts vase containing his ashes above the false fireplace

beside the clock their friends gave them for their sixtieth anniversary, below

the picture of tumbling river aglow with pink of coming storm.

© 2017, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow)

My Must

a cup of tea first thing with breakfast.
Later a mug of coffee. Lifts eyelids.

Liquid brain boost. List today’s tasks.
Mam had a cup of tea before bed, too.

Not for me. Sleep disturbed enough.
Earl Grey or Chai tea. Once had a bud

in a glass cup that bloomed and infused.
Petals gently exploded flavour stop motion

underwater smoke spiralled below.
Expensive but glorious wake up call.

© 2017, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow)


Pots of Coffee Brewing

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

© 2017, Renee Espriu (Renee Just Turtle Flight)


ABOUT THE POET BY DAY

11 thoughts on ““Cravings …” and other fabulous coffee poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt … grab a cuppa joe and join us

  1. 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

    Liked by 1 person

  2. 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

    Liked by 1 person

  3. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

Thank you!

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