The Man with Three Wives...
you ask,
how can did he manage to
have three wives?
well, he always buys things
in three sets:
three kilos of sugar
three bags of rice
three pieces of fish
three pinches of salt
three sachets of native coffee
three coffee mugs
three dresses with same design
and so everyone is happy
ever after.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Caring Less For The Loquacious
seated, formal, behaved,
and stopping to read the
morning paper,
the tv is on for the
usual morning news,
the cup of coffee is on
the breakfast table,
the usual rice and sunny
side up fried egg
and dried fish to
with your wish for
the wholesome thing,
salt and sugar and
something sour
like a piece of
lemon to accentuate
your need for a variety,
in front is a woman with
curly hair, big earrings like
a mystic,
she speaks in crystal ball
reminding you
of your inevitable
pain in the future,
you are her slave and
you listen,
though you are not
interested,
(shit, shit, you have these
words hammering in
your mind)
finally, you take a glimpse
of her mouth,
they look like scissors,
her nose looks like
a wrench,
she looks older
than you think,
cranky like an old
rice mill,
you like to get rid
of her,
you know this woman,
her name,
and her being a
part of you
even for life,
you create a certain distance
like Mars and Pluto,
farther away, you settle on
the orbit of earth,
this marble planet, known
for its coolness
and tolerance for
evil.
you're not quitting,
you love that dragon inside
your hot, creamy coffee,
and then you smile, and tell yourself,
after she had spoken
her piece,
it is a beautiful day
it is a real beautiful life out there.
you step inside your car, drive for work,
and let life manage your life somehow.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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Questions......
lady, (lady in black
gown, black hat, and
hand-gloves)
why do you want your
coffee black?
why do you always want
bitterness?
why always alone
sitting on a chair facing the sea
and drinking the salt of
the breeze
with your black coffee?
why sip bitterness
when
to my mind, coffee would be
better with cream
and honey
with someone beside you
facing the sea and
savoring the salt of the sea
with that black coffee of yours?
lady, why mourn
when joy is just around the bend?
why can't we be alone
together?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Naked Before My Eyes
feeling empty
i sense you
i get near you
feeling your hand
and you look at me
knowing something
that fills you too
i like you to be
my empty cup
to my hot water
i can be more
than hot water
i can be a spoon
stirring you and
you can be coffee too
and cream and
sugar and mint
i can be the mouth
that opens to drink
you as coffee and
surely we shall have
a good time together
tonight i like you
to be more than coffee
and cream and sugar
just be yourself naked
before my emptiness
and i can also be more
than a mouth to you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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Come On Henry
Come on Henry she said
come up and see me some
time but Henry said sorry
dame but I can't today it's
just not possible the wife's
coming back from the shops
and you know what wives are
like and she said oh come
on Henry that's not stopped
you before climbing the stairs
and knocking my door oh that
was for sugar or was it coffee?
Henry said I cannot recall oh
heck Henry don't be such a bore
you've been to my bed many
times before oh Honey don't
be so with me now I got to be
careful the wife's in a mood
the neighbours are talking they
twitch their curtains and peek
through blinds oh to hell with
them she said they've filthy old
minds oh listen baby maybe
tomorrow when the wife's away
I‘ll come borrow some sugar or
coffee or whatever you like and
share your bed you'll come now
Henry or not come at all the young
dame said oh come on sugar give
me a break let me come another
time and I will bring flowers and
chocolates and love and my body
hot ok she said if you promise me
such I'll cut to a break not for you
or your body but my heart's sake.
poem by Terry Collett
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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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The Mountain Of Poverty
this is what i can tell you:
the children are running in the hills
looking for their favorite butterflies to play
chasing dreams, i suppose, who knows
what they really know and
feel, i was once a child myself, perhaps i have the right to guess
what simple wants they have,
freedom, but i can tell you about something else,
their breakfast today is only brown sugar and rice,
and they have not taken their baths in the river because
the water is dirty, and there is no water system in the hills,
primitive, and still undeveloped, the grasses are not cut
tall and wild, and the coconut trees are not bearing much fruits,
there is drought, and the tenants do not have a good harvest
of their upland rice and there are rats infesting the rice fields,
it rains so hard, the road is slippery and we all have to walk slowly
to keep themselves warm, the men drink wine and smoke
the women do not weave mats anymore, they're sold cheap
and they are so disappointed with what they are getting
sugar is a precious commodity here, no coffee,
salt is expensive, salted fish is a luxury,
bread is like gold here and children do not know what is bread all about
cookies do not exist here
stone age, this is stone age in the midst of an expanding world
the children here are left out
i stare at them as they throw stones at play,
dirt and foul smell, but on the other hand i look at the pictures
that i took on that day
less the smell, less the dirt on their faces,
they are so beautiful, and the mountains are still hopeful.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cook Of The House
Ground rice, sugar, vinegar, seco salt, macaroni too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
The salads in the bowl,
The rice is on the stove.
Green beans in the colander and where the res is heaven only knows.
Cinnamon, garlic, salt, pepper, corn-bread, curry powder, coffee too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No, matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best.
cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
Where the rest is heaven only knows.
Matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house.
Cook of the house,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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A Little Sunshine
a grain of rice
on a table cloth
beside
a cup of hot
coffee
imperceptible
but when a connection is found
soon
the spoon and fork
shall understand
some pieces
no matter what
do not fit
on a reasonable landscape
what is the grain of rice
doing on a breakfast table?
your mind is furious
i think it is cool
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Consistency
little by little
a little bit of this and that
everyday
a pinch of salt
a single cube of sugar
a dropp of oil
a bay leaf
a little cut of lemon grass
a sip and a moment
with you
call it tea
or soup
don't ask for coffee
i don't have any.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Alankar (Decor) -25
Over A Cup Of Coffee (Rondine)
Tense, jittery over a cup of coffee
They talked for long hours
A coffee dropp bored of hours
Told the lady with a cup of coffee
'My lady, finish your coffee
A bored dropp on lips yours
Tense, jittery'
'Not mine'said the lady with coffee
'Fault is his wasting hours
Blot or break..his settling hours
So are we and this cup of coffee
Tense, jittery'
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The best coffee in Europe is Vienna coffee, compared to which all other coffee is fluid poverty.
Mark Twain in Greatly Exaggerated
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I never worked in a coffee shop and I don't drink coffee, so I never thought I would become a coffee pusher on TV.
quote by Scott Patterson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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At two o’clock in the afternoon
You complicate yourself
It is hot and you need a fan
You sweat
And in between some quick naps
You snap
For some missing thoughts
And you said
You need something to take
To remember
What you miss awhile
You need coffee
Or lemon tea
You do not want
Something cold
This is the hot portion of the day
And you do not want to crack
You scribble
There is something that is terribly lacking
In this foreplay of a good remembering
Something passionate
Or romantic
Or something to shock you so you do not
Get sleepy
You remember some lines at the tip
Of your tongue
But you cannot complete what you just remember
You sip coffee
It is so sweet and you do not like sugar
At two o’clock in the afternoon
You are half awake
You want to write but you cannot remember
You would rather sleep
But it is just too hot
And you are sweating
You keep mumbling words
Keeping yourself busy with what you
Remember and forget and cannot
Completely discard
Something is bugging you really
You know
You just don’t want to say it
You simply want to ignore it
It is facing you confronting you
Like a neighbor wanting
A fistfight
You turn your head away
And you keep saying it is hot and I
Need coffee but there is so much sugar
I can have tea, I am busy
Either you can have her or me
Not both, for God’s sake
Face it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sugar Mama
Written by c. burnett.
Now then tell me sugar mama
Now where in the world did you get your sugar from?
Now then tell me sugar mama
Now where in the world did you get your sugar from?
Was it back in philadelphia woman?
Back from the place where you come from
You know theyre braggin about your sugar
Yes I said theyre braggin about it all over town
Yes I said theyre braggin about your sugar
Whoa I said theyre braggin about it all over town
Everyplace I go
Sugar mama, sure can here your name
I like my coffee sweet in the morning baby
Yes you know Im crazy about my tea at night
Yes I said I like my coffee sweet in the morning
Baby you know Im just crazy about my tea at night
Dont get my sugar three times a day
Baby you know you and me just cant get along right
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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