Pablo Neruda, Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou
i am a sky, i change with the day
in the morning, i am coloured
a brightness of orange
that cheers up everybody
with a fresh hot cup of coffee
i am sky
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Melting Pot
Take a pinch of white man
Wrap him up in black skin
Add a touch of blue blood
And a little bitty bit of red indian boy
Oh like a curly latin kinkies
Oh lordy, lordy, mixed with yellow chinkees, yeah
You know you lump it all together
And you got a recipe for a get along scene
Oh what a beautiful dream
If it could only come true, you know, you know
What we need is a great big melting pot
Big enough enough enough to take
The world and all its got
And keep it stirring for
A hundred years or more
And turn out coffee coloured people by the score
Rabbis and the friars
Vishnus and the gurus
We got the beatles or the sun god
Well it really doesnt matter
What religion you choose
And be thankful little mrs. graceful
You know that livin could be tasteful
We should all get together in a lovin machine
I think Ill call up the queen
It s only fair that she knows, you know, you know
What we need is a great big melting pot
Big enough enough enough to take
The world and all its got
And keep it stirring for
A hundred years or more
And turn out coffee coloured people by the score
Coffee coloured people
Coffee coloured people
Coffee coloured people by the score
song performed by by Culture Club
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
memories of Sol
sol, sun, light, brightness, warmth,
parasol, black canopy, above my head
your hands hold
my protection your fingers at the pole's end
sol, cheers, and laughter
and thoughts and greetings of the past
to the uncertainties of the future
sol, sun, light, and then orange and red
and gray and lights out.
it was another declaration
of death, little things you remember
but soon you forget
because the morning with a new sun
as another white orchid blooms by the window
is so beautiful to the pleasure of the eyes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Coffee!
Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Is it Tea or Coffee?
Is it Tea or Coffee?
Tell me!
My instant early morning dream
I like it black, white with sugar or cream!
The choice is free
Yet the mind cannot agree
With Tea is a Yippee!
With Coffee it is a Whoopee!
The thought of a little caffeine
The smell of fresh roasted beans
Will once again set off my adrenalin
While my exhausted brain is waiting
That stirring cup of sizzling black
Put on the kettle; spill the beans out of the sack
I will pay the fee; I will pay the levee
I will beg on one knee for a little bit of Coffee
Take a sip of the early morning coffee
Close your eyes and try to see
As you smell the airy aroma like a bee
Tea or Coffee! Perhaps you now understand me
Those swarms of dark brown seeds
They feed my vicious needs indeed
I don’t care how much I pee or how much I wee
For that sparking liquid of hot black called coffee
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Best Culture
Flowers are the smiles of plants and trees
Like the morning Sunshine creates brightness!
Sweet smiles of everyone is the bright side of one
That should not be hidden from the public's eye;
For, that brightness spreads through all everywhere.
Culture is to greet all with a smile despite difficulty
Thereby sorrowfulness of one can be transformed
And the ideas got out of conversation may change all;
Gloominess can be turned into brightness in life.
The purpose of festivals and celebrations do that well!
Love of kind words brings about change unprecedented
Whose influence begins with a smile at first to influence all
To smile too and whose infection increases health of life;
This is the culture humanity needs to be nurtured ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Should Mornings Be?
a cup of roasted coffee
a toast of bread
butter and marmalade
a slice of orange
some lima beans
a little music
some prayers
how nice would a morning be
overjoyed
by your presence
sipping same things all over again
with us
how can such a morning be so boring?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Coffee Dream
Although it’s only one hour till lunch -
my stomach won’t wait.
Non-stop growling for the past two hours
has gotten the best of me.
Besides, my taste buds
are ready to murder for a cup of coffee.
Should I say ‘murder’ in a courthouse?
I discovered myself in the eating lounge
with a coffee machine that still doesn’t work.
How unfair that I can’t leave the building
for a quick cup of coffee till lunch.
So, I resort to having the small salad and orange
that was to be my lunch.
Still, I want that coffee!
I’ll take it boiling hot
right out of the pot.
So now I look forward
to when then release us for lunch.
I plan to run down the street and get
a very large cup of coffee -
maybe two or three.
I desperately need my caffeine fix for today.
Coffee
Coffee is
Secrat of
Every day
For morning
Eneargy...
To day id'not
Take cofee
Come with haadache...
And sleep;
My body also lazy..
The coffee making
Somthig
For me...
I want to avoid
Coffee
You also try
To avoid coffee
For your feautere
Health...
Take black tea
Is better with good....! ! !
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Orange Cat With One Eye
a one-eyed orange cat
(not really a kitten anymore)
likes me so much
that every morning the moment
i open my door
leading to a stone garden
it always comes to me
singing like a bird
as though saying
good morning master
it rubs his orange body
beside my leg and it feels
so smooth
like fine silk to my
hard skin
i feel the guilt of humanity
who the hell
removed its right eye
where did this one-eyed orange
cat come from?
God-given
must be.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
August Mornings
On a fine August morning
As I stand before the clearing
I would see the dappled clouds in the east
Turning orange-red.
I would then see
A round red ball rising up slowly
And would close my eyes in her honor.
In response, she would send
The first rays of her light to kiss me.
Fresh breezing air from the garden
Would then hurry up to hug me.
August mornings are lovelier like my mum
They are fresh and tender like her love
They are caring like her hands.
So what if my mum is far away in the east
I keep getting her call
Every morning when
The first rays of the sun kiss me with love.
poem by Krishna Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Cup of Coffee
I start my day with coffee as my friend
The beans so fresh, as it blends
Giving out an aroma, that wakes me up
I stumble to the kitchen and look for the cup
I pour some black liquid and sip right away
I just want coffee, to start my day
Then on the road I'm on my way
Coffee is my friend to make my day
Stuck in traffic, I loose my mind
I then sip my coffee and just rewind
I get to work with a cup in hand
Juggling with papers I can't withstand
The coffee at work tastes bitter and cheap
But it's better than getting caught counting sheep
All day long, I make pot after pot
Of black steaming mugs of liquid gut-rot
Tanked up on coffee, I face the day
Taking anything that comes my way.
poem by Meena Mustafa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Orange Clock Work
How does an orange clock work?
Well it tells the time in orange coloured ways.
In its innards do strange gears lurk,
And it chimes the years and ticks away the days.
It's a bright and shiny timepiece;
Every second does it add to make the hours.
When it's wound down will its time cease,
As its flesh and skin the universe devours.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Coffee for Bed
Bed coffee
Don't drink...
At morning...
Drink water
300 ml after
Take coffee...
Avoid bed coffee
For yours good
Helth...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
God's Fingers
the orange
when ripe
turns yellow
the yellow colour
is god's finger
pointing to its sweetness
the morn
comes with brightness
the brightness
is god's finger
pointing to the warmth
of the sun
so long i have equated
god with what he is not
that he speaks
with symbols
to find that
god's fingers
index fingers
are here, there and
everywhere
at the sea too
i hear him serenading
a song
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Grandpa Orange Garden
From my grandpa Orange Garden
You can saw green orange leaf
all over the place
it fruits had started ripening
He frequently late going home
My grandma hit “Kentongan ”)
For going home soonly
But my grandpa workinghard
Forgotten to eat and drink, and going home
When he going home he saw the roof falling down
And black cloud seen in the sky
Quickly my grandfather took the ladder
Up to the roof and care the roof
For bettering their room
The rain fall from the sky
My grandpa walking down from teh roof
sleppy, and never wake up again
my grandma cried till morning
forgotten the orange fruit harvest
she embrace her husband slept strectched on the ground
in the meeting room
where children and grandchildren are gathering
to day you couldn’t seen the green leaf orange
the fresh orange leave the smeel in my reminiscences
the garden leave high and dry
no grandpa touch down at
the leafs through,
it stalks to let dryness
dryness and to wither
the dush fly everywhere
the house and garden is empty
only ghosts dwell in that house
I still remember
I fomerly run there
Among the orange stem trees
Under the orange leaf shady
His Only one message:
Don’t pick those oranges before ripe
Jakarta,6/29/2005
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An April Morning
The morning awakes
with a cloudless sky
with the air cool and fresh
that you go outside
and sit a while
in the refreshing air
of an April morning.
The sun greets the morning
with its warming rays
and much promise of a lovely day.
You breathe in deeply
the nectar of life,
of this fresh air
of an April morning.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Is It To Be Alive?
What is it to be alive?
To stand in the early morning Jerusalem cold
And remember the same kind of cold
My father of blessed memory also sensed on the road down from the junk shop
In Lansingburgh New York so many many years ago?
What is to be alive
And sense the morning brightness and freshness
And to know in five or ten or who knows how many years
Someone else will sense this elsewhere?
What is to not be alive?
And perhaps never know this special kind of morning freshness and brightness again?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lyric Of Fiona
As daylight appears above the earth's horizon
My thoughts begin with this perpetual race
In which my inner voice always steps in to the rescue
On the pretense of reassurance,
Whisper the very same tone and lyric
'Here's cheers to your pain'
'Here's cheers to your sorrow'
'As it happens long and gone'
'The damage has already done'
'time to let go, something meant not grow'
These words usually carry me through for sometime.
They are constructive and wholesome
They are used as a basis for relating values to my issues
They are used as principle to reach me out
They are supposedly therapeutic words, useful while they last
>
'Here's cheers to your strength'
'Here's cheers for breaking the silence'
'Here's cheers for coming out of the isolation'
'Here's cheers for taking the step toward your healing journey'
poem by Patricia Etienne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wishing For The Sun
Lying on a bed
Flying in my head
Wishing for the sun
Don't let the rain man come
Open up the sky
Stop living in denial
Cut the ropes on me
Feel myself float free
Say hello to the sun when the morning comes
Wave goodbye to the rain, it only brings you pain
Say hello to the sun when the morning comes
We're climbing up the walls
Clutching at your straw
Waving to be seen
Holding on to dreams
Stop living in disguise
Can't cover up my eyes
A new solution's here
Don't watch it disappear
Say hello to the sun when the morning comes
Wave goodbye to the rain, it only brings you pain
Say hello to the sun when the morning comes...
We could always fly into a coloured sky
I think that I've arrived in techni-coloured style
I'm turning upside down, float into the ground
It's alright
Say hello to the sun when the morning comes
Wave goodbye to the rain, it only brings you pain
Say hello to the sun when the morning comes...
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Freshness is Beauty
Not fresh is she now to her spouse.
She is often put to the disuse,
Much to her disgust and despair.
Beauty deteriorating without use.
Fresh is still she, to other men
And hence appears a beauty
But guarded from any misuse,
Beauty decaying for want of use.
Fresh to him are other women
In whom he finds fresh beauty.
But he is fretted from straying,
Beauty suffering behind the bar.
Change of things – Beauty strives.
Change of mates – Passion lasts.
21.06.96
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!