Green Tea And Coffee
Morning Rain
green tea and coffee
He and I.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Related quotes
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
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In the Storm's Eye
Don't go. There's still some coffee left,
And, look, it seems about to rain,
And have you read this morning's
Headlines? Darkness of a deeper
Kind has fallen on so many places,
War and hatred, hunger, death,
Yet, here, for now, a ray of light
Has warmed this messy little
Room. Not of the sun (recall
The rain) , the ray is yours.
You've made me happy.
Let me have your mug.
I'll get you coffee.
Do not go.
poem by Lawrence Beck
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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
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Out of the Blue A Patch of Green
-****Rousseau alleged to have used
a pallette of a hundred and some-odd
different greens
in one painting********
-------------------------
There was an empty table
Next to mine
She walked by dressed in green
Holding her coffee she took a spare chair
Then sat down her back to me
She got my attention
My guess was
She was not
Encouraging nor
Expecting company
After the green hit me
Came the pleasent smell
Over the roasting coffee
It was like in the cartoons
When the drawing of the scent
Comes under the guy's nose
Lifts him off his seat
He floats acrosss the room
Led by his nose
By the visable wafts
Who knows what scent it was
I suppose there are some
Who can tell and know its name
All I knew
It was pulling on me
Back to the green in the chair
Darker green at the seams
Slacks lighter green
Leather jacket and
Shoes both different green
Tail of a sweater
Below back of the jacket
Damn another darker green
I wish I had names
for all these greens
Ankles are barely showing
A light tan do they still call it hose
A beige I guess
Probably has a better
Brand name I also don't know
I'm writing this down
As fast as I can
I was working on other stuff
But this is too good to forget
Living in the moment observing
I was thinking
This green is going
To be gone soon
I'm almost out of writing paper
To describe anything more
My coffee's getting cold
What's she here for
To be seen
To just drink coffee
Pass the time until
I look up the green is gone
All I'm left with is
A cold cup of coffee
And this
For you to read
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Somethings Become Missing....
the first thing in the morning is not a cup of coffee
it is cold as usual
and the heavy rain last night just stops
that must make me survive
but it is as personal as the
armpits
it could even be the bland taste of my
own saliva
keeping myself intact with my own
resources
nothing about cups of coffee and
melting butters
it is the fingers that we press upon
words that we play with our own tongues
hugged by our teeth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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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
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Rosebank
From the village of Rosebank the hills look so green
A beautiful country as fine as i've seen
A gem of the mountains on the higher ground
Is this quiet little village with hills all around.
In the Green Frog cafe i go back in time
A bard of the old school sat crafting his rhyme
His long hair and long beard seemed whiter than gray
And he sat in the cafe and wrote every day.
In the 'Green Frog' each morning for an hour or two
He sipped his coffee looking out on the view
He took in the beauty it came out in words
The green of the woods and the songs of the birds.
He sat in the cafe this maker of song
And sipped on his coffee and he thought hard and long
And he gazed on those mountains and song to him came
And he died old and poor though he lives on in fame.
And though the bard for long years has now lain with the dead
His verses survive and by many still read
And the mountains of Rosebank that gave him his rhyme
Are still green as ever unfaded by time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Rain On Me O' Rain Rain Rain
o' rain rain rain
come rain on me o' rain
rain on every plant that grow o' dear rain
rain on every resource o' dear rain
rain to green the plants
the plants that of nature's decor
rain on us and never let go
quench my thirst; to get so
rain on me o' rain rain rain
rain for happiness and leisure
rain for our children to play
rain on the soil for us this day
so, we plant more food to feed us this way
go to the fields and gardens; same way
rain o' beautiful rain
rain rain rain
**extract from 'patterns of life' november 2011 ebook
ntema's unique poetry (nup)
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Monroe Louisiana
On the green, green farm
In green, green Monroe Louisiana
So green, green
Wet-luscious green and alive
So green after the rain
So bright green and clean
Just passing through
On my way to tomorrow
But so green today and yesterday
It was on that stranger's green, green farm
And I didn't stay long
And I didn't expect someone
To fire that shotgun right next to me
The barrel pointed out the front door
Into that green, green world beyond.
There were hot springs
On the green, green farm
In green, green Monroe Louisiana
Back in 1973.
poem by M.L. Squier
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Too much coffee. Too much coffee and Gatorade. It's a hell of a mix. If you're ever tired in the morning, just try that mix, and tell me what you think.
quote by Kevin Garnett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain Water
Morning of 21st, I am 34.
The rain outside my window drizzles a rhythm of February dawn.
Rain water flows from the early morning sane—
Rain water washes the yesterday’s pain.
Rain water and I have loved you dear—
Rain water and you come close to me near.
Rain water taps my fingertips, and I love you more than yearning—
Rain water runs deeper into our skins of longing.
Morning of 21st, I am happier.
The rain won’t stop until I melt as a better person.
(written on February 21,2008 Marikina City, Philippines)
poem by Chester Maynes
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Evening Rain
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
Like the day
Saw the same
All the problems
I follow
I run away
Saw the plane
The grey life
Tomorrow
But I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
But I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I close my eyes
It doesn't work
I can hear tomorrow
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfect Coffee
she dance in front of me, in early morning suite,
before the Rooster crock in early shout of morning,
brows and feel then the coffee lies in the table with
a happy roost
comfort the night with that dancing lady, where
every inch of her hair, languish her leg just off the
bed to play, come admirable ecstasy wake me up,
full and squeeze the earth, grip my trembling heart
as you quizzed my neck into the earth seeking night
with nothing but gone of myself
I almost drawn, of the mixed emotion of sugar drops
in the coffee, wanted a perfect blends of boil water as
it fades away, oh! yes thanks to the table that hold
every cup, the party has to go like a merry go around
the table of free
now the sweet aroma of coffee brings a good
morning mist, with sugar dare coffee taste as old, the
same thirst the tongue requests; drink the leverage of
mate that holds, for each breath of lips that savour
the spell, lives the saving faith
a hot coffee for free, take it out or dine with thee ….
poem by Antonio Liao
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Java Blues
Rick danko
I walked into a diner
And the blonde behind the counter
She asked if she could help in any way
Hell, I knew by her smile
Her number I could dial
If I was in the need of company
But as I bought some java
Instead she brought me a cup of chicory
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
Dont pour me water just fill up my cup
You know it takes a lot just to keep me up
Cost may be more than you care to pay
What good is money compared to fightin pain
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh coffee, oh coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
The taste of java is like a cocaine rush
Nobodys gonna stop me from drinkin too much
Down in bolivia the people are insane
They want as much for coffee as they do for cocaine
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
The coffees got me now..
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
I got the java blues
Oh coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh the coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, oh coffee
Java blues!
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bitter Coffee... A Sweet Coffee
The age is running and I am still drinking my bitter coffee,
To when the story of this coffee belongs? !
Coffee and chocolate are so deferent in their tastes
But in several times
It happens that they have the same color.
It seems that the similarity of them is the same of features of the fortune reader.
When she gazes the cup of the coffee
But I am not so familiar with chocolate
Even I am not familiar with the talisman countenances of the hex.
I remember that once I asked him to give me a bitter coffee
Yet he has made a permanent bitter one
Each time he brings me the same coffee in the same cup
A question c0mes to my mind and I ask it to myself:
If we do not like the coffee, why we do drink it?
Do you think it is our destiny as my birth story?
I was born without my desire
Thus with each sip of the coffee
The destiny stops me not to tear the chocolate cover
to sweeten my coffee.
poem by Chnar Namq
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Picture of Confidence
In Bermuda
shorts on a cold morning
he wheeled his shopping cart,
a little recklessly,
up to the side
door of the cafe',
pulled out a stainless
steel, covered mug
and splashed the steaming, old
coffee into the gutter,
then came in for a refill.
Long, straight hair shining,
a smile lit his face
as if all of us
warm, secure people
should envy him.
He came out of nowhere,
got his coffee,
and was gone
with the cart,
humming into the cold
morning air.
The smell of coffee
The smell of coffee
that is boiling in the early morning
goes right through the room
and it reminds me of you,
that makes the most wonderful coffee.
It stands at work
and boils black in a machine
and I hear it gurgle
like a fountain
that wants to flow over.
I wonder if you
are getting coffee at that place,
or is it too healthy there
that they only stay
with fruit juice.
At times a person needs to be
silent over the things in life,
but I want to grab every day
and build a wonderful life
with you and make the very best of it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Gentle Morning Rain
You are as the gentle morning rain
Giving life to all that here below remain
Your scope unlimited across this earth’s terrain
Each speckled spot of moistness
Alights on my face with a gentle wakefulness
Awakening me to your love and gracefulness
In the gentle morning rain.
Your mid day sunlight melts the gentle rain
Your warmth over all of us does reign
The light by which we see and then attain
Each blessed ray of light illuminating
And revealing all that needs our understanding
Even in the dark your eternal light reflecting
You melt the gentle morning rain.
Your afternoon wind carries the gentle rain
Your breath gives us all our life to sustain
Our minds are cleared as you breathe again
Each gasp of breath breathed with life’s zest
How many breaths are measured for this chest
Before all my worldly goods I must bequest
You carry the gentle morning rain.
And when the evening comes that gentle rain
Is still present here, as love it does remain
In the twilight of this day it never goes away
Your love that is the gentle morning rain.
poem by David Taylor
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The Rain
I.
The rain! the rain! the rain!
It gushed from the skies and streamed
Like awful tears; and the sick man thought
How pitiful it seemed!
And he turned his face away,
And stared at the wall again,
His hopes nigh dead and his heart worn out.
O the rain! the rain! the rain!
II.
The rain! the rain! the rain!
And the broad stream brimmed the shores;
And ever the river crept over the reeds
And the roots of the sycamores:
A corpse swirled by in a drift
Where the boat had snapt its chain--
And a hoarse-voiced mother shrieked and raved.
O the rain! the rain! the rain!
III.
The rain! the rain! the rain!--
Pouring, with never a pause,
Over the fields and the green byways--
How beautiful it was!
And the new-made man and wife
Stood at the window-pane
Like two glad children kept from school.--
O the rain! the rain! the rain!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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