coffee

Learn more about other poetry terms

I like my coffee milky and sweet. No bitterness. No darkness. I like how the creamy milk Swims in the coffee. And I like how the sugar Disappears instantaneously. I like my coffee milky and sweet
You’d Think Coffee was Some Kind of Miracle Drug 10 PM It’s not like I TRY to stay awake at night. I wonder what she’s doing…
My love for you will be Like your first cup of coffee in the morning   I might burn your tongue If you’re not careful But I promise to warm you up  
I am, with out a doubt, a different kind of morning person. I can guzzle 6 cups of coffee and never wake up, But when you present me with valid brew I undoubtable connect the theme of the day, To you.
Ⅰ                                                                                                   Ⅷ Among hundreds of cafes,                                                 I know sharp warmth
Ⅰ                                                                                                   Ⅷ Among hundreds of cafes,                                                 I know sharp warmth
I wanted a sip of coffee, but mother told me no. Said it was “too much caffeine”, and it would stunt my growth. I guess she learned the hard way
The Kaffeeklatch It's 9AM on a Monday. The Grey haired seniors gather at the same ol' coffee shop, wearing their varied camouflage, sports, and veterans hats.
To the boy who works at starbucks...
Life is coffee. Dark, bitter, sallow. Each new sight I see Makes me feel callow. Yet it'll get me through this. Today it grants me energy. It'll dissipate lethargy, So I will accept it as it is.
I love the way the sun seeps through the blinds and the warmth dancing on the small wooden surface of my coffee table. I love the smell of homemade coffee and expresso beans in the morning.
I want you like cream, for the coffee I wake up from, I want you like a dream, I dont want to wake up from, I pray night and day, that he sends you my way, I'll make you the queen, of my world and my space.
Dear Coffee,  You are the start of my mornings,  the end to my evening slumps.  Sometimes you come with sugar and cream,  sometimes you do not.
Dear cicadas:   Remember when breakfast was a cup of coffee and a cigarette, every morning standing with my back to the wind-- the glass statue,
I lift the cool Tin pitcher, its handle Biting to my bones. Thick cream pervades Its body, concealing numbered Scars with silk bandages. I push its frigid Bottom up and the warm
A still, opaque midnight Undisturbed, sleepy, and without refraction Until golden tendrils of smoke roll in like billowing clouds
The rich smell of coffee lingers my senses, captivating my breathing, leaving me almost breathless. I close my eyes to let the aroma fill my lungs with pure bliss.
Coffee Talk you don't have to say you love me... as a bug snuggled in a rug, aroma...basking in the aroma a time well spent in thought
I sit here in the morning Sipping my coffee. Every single day Something stops me. I read the news,  A disaster here and there, A sprinkle of protest,  A dash of terrorism,
You are my coffee. A harmless drug of which I cannot get enough.   You are my coffee. The first thing I think of in the morning.  
  “you want black tea?” bitterness curled like steam through frozen tendrils of air.
According to the Food and Drug Administration, caffeine is a highly addictive substance You may not see it that way because its effects lurk in our coffee cups
I drink, I drone, My future unknown. Coffee helps with the moan, And early morning foam. To college I’ve shown, Myself a new home, Though to graduate alone, Brings itself a sad tone.
I bleed coffee from countless sleepless nights and I can't tell if the bitter taste in my mouth is from my drink of choice or memories of his tongue. Maybe it's the aftertaste
As I sit here and you sit there With a coffee in-between us,  I think about the times In the Car when you were right beside me,  And I would not talk,  And you were such a flirt it was obnoxious.
Morning dawns on the earth, Like a day-to-day rebirth. Rising from slumber once more, An awake much like a chore. Wiping the sleep from your eyes,
The pungent aroma of the coffee beans welcome me, the bitter, yet invitingly warm smell as I pass through the glass doors of my favorite place to rejuvenate.
There are more than a few things Which I am pleased about, that wash away my stormy days, and cleanse me of my doubt.   Sometimes they are big things and sometimes they are small
Dragged out of bed, still feel half dead, The only cure, is coffee they said, For a while it’ll suffice, and feel like paradise, But could someone procure, some better advice,  
The night is soft and pliant in my palms like Silly Putty, traced with finger and newspaper-print. It has imprinted the sound of bells clanging in the forest
Deep inside my veins runs blood and something darker Seeping through my skin and giving off an alluring odor  The pleasant taste of bitterness that encaptures the morning
The sun's up again, two more minutes, and the day has begun, The pants with the rip on the left knee -- fold up the cuffs,  Ain't nothin' like showin' off the starry cotton socks! 
A grounded bean is all it takes Brewed and creamed Dined with a cake   In the morning or afternoon Black or sweetened I have to choose Oh! what cup Shall I use?
My eyes are blanketed by a black veil that hangs in the air I imagine the smell of coffee Iced and tucked away behind the milk in the fridge Later Between sips
Sweet sentiments the birds sing to me, This greenbelt of tall and lean,  shimmering tropical colors of green. It peaks through my window, dancing facets of light. Touches the skin and warms the sight. 
Taking in each deep breath in slowly without a miss, Letting my stress dance away in an espresso bliss. Forgetting all the negatives that turn skies melancholy, Watching as my sorrows melt in a mocha swirl's melody. 
On a frosty winter morning there’s nothing more comforting than the cozy warmth of my bed, except maybe a cup of coffee.   A cup of coffee made just the way my mother makes it,
a quiet afternoon, a mug of coffee encased in both hands. i stare into the circle of beige, at the steam coming out of the brim, and i watch my anxieties evaporate. a blue turntable,
coffee stirs me             from milky dreams             raises me from sleep             steam escaping             twisted sheets still foggy on reality             until I wrap my fingers
I listen deep, I stand in the sunrise. I make a leap, I am a surprise.   The sun beams hit my coffee, I sip and read in devotion. This day is meant for me, To be an inspiration.  
 it’s paper mache and rhymelaughing with people with no sense of timeart is the lives of you and methe people that color history  
Buzz Buzz Buzz Bam! Hit that snooze button(like a champ!) Buzz Buzz Buzz Fine, life sucks, but fine I crawl out of bed,  realize it I don't want to be late so I shuffle into some (mostly)clean clothes.
my past runs up my wrist all i know of is your soft kiss with placid fingertips i do sure miss the way you'd love me with no list thinking of your coffee eyes never came as a surprise
It's light. /  I want to sleep. /  Close my eyes and count the sheep. /  The sun is up, / But my mind is not. / Slip off the covers, / The coffee steams hot. /  I take a sip, /
I’m everywhere and nowhere all at once. No shape of my own, no self I fill every inch of void around me While being nothing at all.
Sleep deprived, zombie like,as mindless as air and as mechanical as the shifting gears of a manual transmission.Some have a spark in their eye or a bounce in their step;
I don’t like to drink coffee, it intensifies my anxiety  or maybe it makes me more aware; to uncover when i thought i was already bare. got to fill my schedule up wth tasks; can’t have time to simply sit.
If an island ever daredTo be stranded with meI'd take my laptopAnd a coffee shopWith the wi-fi free  
I could live without a phone. I don’t need an Instagram, I don’t rely on siri. I could live without electricity. The sun and moon shall light my way,
I go in the coffee shop around 11:26, I stop before moving forward again, I have seen him for the past 3 month, oh god his smile always met me at the door, he always get the same thing small hot green tea amd a doughnut,
Ah.. The sweet smell of coffee roasting from a far, The taste, the buzz, has never been so good. Splash of cream, spoonful of sugar. Mary Poppins would be pleased. Every morning is a delight,
Your calloused hands reach out and give to me, like God reviving one whose almost gone, a warm blue cup of steaming sanity. For four quarters you gift me life anon.
A little bit of coffee.... Okay, more than one just cup. To get me going, to wake me up. A few drops and shots and pumps and cubes. To add a little flavor and put me in the mood-
Mother of 5, not knowing if her day will rise. Rubbing her eyes, hoping to keep the day alive. Grabbing for her cup, to take a sip of the rush. Waiting for the warmth to enter my veins and reach right for my brain.
In the early hours, Morning of a late summer day, The fog hung softly in yellow light, A moist dew hung on the window sill,
I've developed such a strong feeling for you-that I can't live my day-to-day life without your reassurance.You keep me going, quite literally.I can't live without you.
Today, I will enjoy it.I will enjoy my coffee.I won't think about everything that bothers me,Or troubles me.I will enjoy sitting on my bed,Waiting for the flood of light to enter the room.
  Staring over the steaming fumes,prophetic wisps, tendrils of the muck,rising up and twisting in her nose,   Eyes bloodshot,covers torn asunder,an empty bed lays in ruins,  
I sip the coffee A warm, calming aroma For now, I'm awake
I am a cup of coffee in the morning with a milky way swirl galaxies colliding together in the stillness of the morning the Earth holds its breath my atoms awaken the stardust in my skin vibrates
drink your coffee black, so it's bitter, but you like to focus on the sweeter things in life. 
Do not pick broken things up.  Your bare, un-callused hands should not reach out and caress.  Do not try to glue the pieces back together.  You will end up bleeding.  You will end up with a leaking, half-assed excuse for a cup.  You will be burne
orange with white stripes-- to go please
I met a boy on the outskirts of campus, playing a game of frisbee.   his eyes shined like oceans shimmering in the very depths of the beauty in  the place mermaids call home.  
exotic one word to describe a euphoria an infinity of pleasure and defiance against a tasteless mindless society. The river that flows steam like hot lava
There's a romanticism to sitting down in a bookstore with a yet unpaid for book in hand Seeking out the coziest corner where your Momma won't find you  Not for want of searching or yelled whispers
It was warm and sunny outside and the way the brick walls held that heat inside like a blanket reminded me of our winters. The buzzing willow crowd made me smile  like when you tapped my nose
We’re sitting there drinking coffee in my favorite place
Who am I? No filter flow, who am I I am an extrovert and an introvert I am a wolf in sheep’s clothing and a sheep in wolf’s clothing
You wake up today Ready to fade away.
Thoughts of nothing In times of despair I see you strutting Like you don't see me here I wished to fly like a choir on high To live like a new being awoken To be sheet thin and soar the sky
I love coffee stained breath in the morning.
The smell of roasted beans
Swarming my heart in brown The warmth held timidly
It is half past three and I have finally reached my home
It is half past three and I have finally reached my home
Tea on a Sunday  evening Two young girls  hide behind their words their illustrations small talk eludes dark realities too afraid to address the monster in the closet
Mountain valley's rise. to quakes of dissonance, Curving in the gears beneath each watch face,
Sleep in her voice, that's when rules are gone and the truth is set free. Nothing but honesty.
I’ve been exhausted in vain Becoming a waste of space Growing used to verbal abuse For a minimum wage
The mystery in a hackneyed ballad
Black Coffee, no cream. Blending of a dream Blackness with a gleam A smile with a beam A day turned supreme With Black Coffee, no cream.   Black Coffee, not lean. Yet pure and pristine
Drink your coffee strong  sing me your silly little song  go home before dawn   
5am. Irish cream. Did I really wake up, or was it just a dream? Did I really heal? Did you or did you not help me? Is this really ending? When did I get so clingy?  
I feel the sunshine kiss my face like an old friend Like a coffee shop meeting After a long time apart. The warmth brushes past my face in faint traces Of smiles and laughter and past graces
Every morning I sit on the table And everything looks so banal Until you sit with me on your silver tray Every morning I sit on the table And your fragrance fills up the air I drink your bitterness because
No, I don’t go for the coffee I mean, I do like the coffee But really, I just like to be there A cup of hot bitterness Smoothed with a splash of cream Is my excuse   It’s away
He is tasting every savory wordWith a clenching jawIf he doesn’t lower his voice the barista will noticeAnd the inky hipsters drinking their black coffeesWill become our audience
you run through my head like drips of coffee  run down my cup i can see you there and i know you shouldnt really be there. but i encourage you to move faster and you sometimes make me dizzy
  Warmth in its purest form, making its splendid path down an oh-so welcoming, tired, pink ache. Creme de la creme, worlds finest sleep walker juice. Cocaine made from mothers kitchen;
You are the fragrance of dark coffee.
We approached the counter, side by side.
I take my coffee black, but was that ever a bad thing? Bringing back to Martin Luther King preaching about letting freedom ring. The joyful choir sings let the 20th century voices be head
Up early in the morning to the smell of coffee Hearing the alarm go off makes me salty Stumbling over couldn't finish my dream awaken to a world that isn't what it seems rushin movements to make it on time
She wakes up in the morning She pours a cup of coffee             She thinks:             What is it to be Free?             What is it to be an American?
I want it to be like this; swadde in blankets smelling of you, I stretch free of that innocent outer skin of childhood, easily, like slipping off clothes   Later, I will feel at home content.
As a teenager we are taught that sleepless nights
Yes
I always smell like this after being outside,
Oh, your sweet smell! Oh, your dark complextion! How can I control myself when you're sitting next to me?  Your eyes are heavy. Yet, your smile so bright. You bring joy when you come around.
Hate. Seems like you can’t function without it.   Have your coffee dark roast— Extra bitter. Lukewarm, Grounds swirling in the bottom, --Swirling like those hateful thoughts,
coffee so much coffee better get coffee i desire this so badly for you to have your coffee nothing is worth your frowning face   (May 2013)
So, let it out. Hold nothing back.Write like me.What I feel. What I think. What I know. Which isn’t much…This is all so new… I’ve never been in such an unfamiliar place.I love it and hate it, all at the same time.
Early mornings enhanced by your bold flavor, awakening my senses. With a few sugars and some hazelnut cream you become the perfect way to start the day.
It's the bitter, sometimes, sweetness that leaves me wanting more Whether the weather is cool or hot I can't seem to stop this addiction Caffeine is simply a bonus
Walking through a forest of lighter strawberry hues a sign pops down besides me: 'Wake-Up' or hit 'Snooze'?   Ten more minutes, Please! I'll wake up when the clock screams:
Let's go back. I mean way way back.Just a face in the bleachers, a train on the track.With your laces tied together I thought you would fallBut you kicked off your shoes and it made me feel small. 
  I used to steal everything All my jewelry and perfume But you can’t steal from a coffee shop So that’s where all my money went   I knew a girl who took fire to her arms
Coffee   Coffee is like a seed. It plants itself in your brain. It grows inside you 'til you cry in vain.   Taller and taller it shall grow. Intertwining through your soul.
Oiled handprints smeared on walls Mark the places memories once stood I forever wander through emptied halls Trying to reach you, if only I could.   Blank counters, layered in dust
The roaring of the seas, Clogs my ears for me. Fears pound around my head, Hidden now and then, By rising droplet armies,
This morning happened centuries ago and there are still traces of Crest on my tongue. My irises are like coffee filters straining the paradoxical dream sequences created by my starved psyche.
I have coffee breath but it is worth it. I had concert breath and sleep deprivation but it is worth it to feel the energy of a dark room with only the stage lights and an acoustic guitar
Sit at the table, the booth that was only whimsy, fiction until this moment, smooth the java with single servings of nostalgia and laugh a laughter deep, nourish me for a lifetime.
I need to marry a man who plays the guitar. No, the piano...yes...the piano. I need to marry a man who plays the piano and sings beautifuly.
Subscribe to coffee