Related quotes: Marmalade, Tangy orange heaven. Chunked...

Breakfast

Marmalade,
Tangy orange heaven.
Chunked to the max
Smothers toast.
A bite, a crunch.
That citrus burst.
A sigh,
A slurp of coffee.
Ready to tackle the day.

poem by Nick Strong
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Related quotes

Ode To Orange Chgicken

Orange chicken, oh orange chicken,
how much I love you.

You're sweet, sticky, and tangy, all at the same time,
you go great wi th soy sauce, but never with lime.

ode to orange chicken, which I love to devour,
it's been in my mouth so often, it knows that i have power.

It knows the names of my taste buds, Jill, Lil, and Bill,
sometimes the orange chicken is happy, but sometimes it's held against it's will.

Whenever I eat orange chicken, it goes CRUNCH, CRUNCH,
and I have to have chow mein, and that goes MUCH, MUNCH!

Ode to orange chicken, it is always in a bowl,
but did I mention, i also love eggrolls.

poem by Aubrey Harmel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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It's a Citrus Thing

To feel and peel an Orange.
And to know it is naturally sliced.
Sweetened to eat when ripe.
Like a grapefruit!
Tasting good and nice in Summer.
It's a citrus thing I think.
An apple peeled does not reveal that!
It's a citrus thing I think.
Lemons and Limes are neither sweet or pink.
Being predictably what they are.
And often they are used in an assortment of mixed drinks.
It's a citrus thing I think.
Although Bananas do have seeds...
And grow from trees,
When peeled their seeds are barely seen.
Unnoticed they go when chewed too.
It's a citrus thing making this interesting...
With a fruiting done few do!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ode to the Coffee

i am black
i am coffee
everybody loves me

dawn, noon, night
hot, cold, warm
blow, sip, drink, slurp,
kiss and be all afresh

i am black
i am your
coffee of the day

one two three
gulp
gulp
gulp

...

i am black
i am coffee
every body loves me

i fill them up like
a ballet dancer
making them feel good
about the day
quickening their steps
sharpening their senses
giving their mind
the acme of my kicks
so that they twirl and swirl
the day like the best angel
full of class, verve,
grace and fervour

i am black
i am coffee
everybody loves me

dawn, noon or night
i am there to brew up your day
hot, cold, or warm -
like the ever changing day
cloudy, raining,
breezy, or sunny

i am the master of diversity
assimilator of tastes
topping up your wishes
with heaps of creamy,
tangy and flavourful offerings

i can be covered with ice,
caramelled, skimmed, creamed,
buttered, sugared, monchiatoed
and then let loose like
a jazzed up latino black,
red hot arabica wonder
to spiral down your lane
an exotic belly dancer,
sweeping you off your feet
keeping you wide awake for the
peak of every hour

kilimanjaro picked,
sulawesi civet cat intestine
fermented coffee beans
on the lowland, in the highlands
nut scented, spiced -
india, africa, indonesia,
you name it, we have them

the morning cup of coffee
pervades the air, colours
the day with such grand things
it holds and springs a thousand surprises -
with romances and verile seeds
to take us through the
greatest date - a black
- painting the day - like gems
sparkling and twinkling over
the floor of our thoughts

i am coffee
i emerge a circle of green,
turn a humble beige, and is roasted
till all black, brittle, and ground
- to give that gentle, tangy, bitter
flavour of earth - so that you can
pirouette the day away
with that ounce of humility
and intelligence
coffee sings all day long
- a beige roasted all black,
ground, percolated and now all ready
sitting lightly in a cup to please you -
an indulgence from a thousand miles away
sweet, bitter, hot or cold

i am black
i am your
coffee of the day
let me give you all the kicks
to jumpstart your day
listen the music has just started..
gulp, gulp, slurp
more virile than gangnam steps
- twirling, swirling over
your discerning tongue

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Give A Dose To The One You Love Most

Don’t give a dose to the one you love most.
Give her some marmalade...give her some toast.
You can give her the willies or give her the blues.
But the dose that you give her will get back to youse.

I once had a lady as sweet as a song.
She was my darlin’, and she was my dear.
But she had a dose, and she passed it along.
Now she’s gone, but the dose is still there.

So, don’t give a dose to the one you love most.
Give her some marmalade...give her some toast.
You can give her a partiridge up in a pear tree,
But the dose that you give her might get back to me.

So if you’ve got an itchin’...if you’ve got a drip,
Don’t sit there wishin’ for it to go ’way.
If there’s a thing on the tip of your thing or your lip,
Run down to the clinic today, and say...

'I won’t give a dose to the one I love most.
I’ll give her some marmalade...give her some toast.'
Give her the willies or give her the blues,
But the dose that you give her will get back to you.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Green Sour Orange....

first i get an orange
a green orange, the young one
sour, but still
citrus, not pungent
but inviting, not a cure for the
wound, not easing,
it penetrates pain and
makes it more painful,

then i cut the orange,
press it
and press it some more
to get all its juices....

i do not drink it
i leave it in the glass
for all those dark nights

till every juice dries,
till what you see and feel
is the same
emptiness....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.

poem by Bob Barci
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Several oranges

At what age does the recognition dawn
that grown-ups aren’t quite as bright
as they would like – and would like you –
to think?

An early proof among the many
was marmalade – the stuff best tasted
when licked off the marmalade spoon, or
if Mom tried to make it (big wooden spoon) or
scraped off stodge pudden at your school…

and best, the one that came in brown stone jars
because that was cheaper; lettered in black
to say it came from Keiller’s; and was made
from several oranges, so grown-ups said…

well, how obvious can you get? A big stone jar
or even a glass jar, was bigger than a single orange..

and couldn’t grown-ups spell either?
Their later proffered excuse was to be just as phoney –
How could all that marmalade
come from just one town which the Jogrufy mistress
said was somewhere in Spain?

Yet another reason to add to your growing decision
never to be a grown-up… so sadly over-rated…

poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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It Was Autumn Night

Hear the yell at front the door
Knock! Knock! In there!
The beating of my heart pounds
Thump! Do you have any care!
It was Autumn night
Out the door we leave our way
The long winding dusty road ahead
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
Atumn leaves sit in a piled bed
It was Autumn night
Here we are just the two of us alone
Clink! Clink! Clink! raise our glass
Smiles, laughter, and thrills
As we toast to today and for the past!
It was Autumn night

poem by Suelynn Walters
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