Best Mug Poems
I find it cautic as the glass separating the sphere from the cloud,
the resignation of all trust avowed,
the interrogation of my soul via a machine,
and it's so not you...
The angle of approach to this future indemnity,
the meaning of life as we do it today-
now don't hesitate,
don't shy away or grab something insane,
you sir are not lying 45 minutes a day,
you don't deny thy find within grind,
you comply!
If it's just co-energize,
no truth deny's,
nothing hides,
say it outside-
right?
Don't despise,
don't characterize,
you'd think the internet Trumped that tonight...
Too many whites,
nor even blacks,
what's that?
Well let's attack...
One is seen,
the other unmade,
you choose,
you can even be the mate...
You can even hide in a great,
stare straight at your future plate,
get close,
get the grate...
Just trip out,
lose your faith.
The song that divides remains,
the long walk alive is strange,
let's get it here now and with a simple witness...
Don't drive,
don't even fly to cry,
don't rhyme,
it's everyone!
Everyone inside!
Say it with me-
kick it later,
it's everyone!
It's in alive!
Yo,
they ARE at the show,
show um,
show um how much you know,
end this riddle with the waltz of the Mountain Goats,
never do they need proof but a pasture where they grope,
sometime's it's O.K to just go home.
Coffee and sugar
In a large Darth Vader mug
Tastes out of this world
Some say half empty
Some say half full but I say
Glug Glug, that was good!
Police asked a guy for his ID
He said I have no ID on me,
Said they would take him down
And just keep him around,
'Till they could prove his identity.
He said 'hold on now, I remember
I've got something that you could use here,'
Stupid without a doubt
He deserved a big clout,
'T was Mug-Shot from 'Most Wanted' poster.
The Coffee Mug
Conspicuous trails
Of coffee gone dry on mug
Hot and fresh no more
Cling like those few memories
That mottle life's ceramic !
Copyright Anulaxmi Nayak, 2017
31st January 2017
I broke something this morning:
a beautiful, soft-foam-colored mug
with pussy-willows and white blossoms.
I bumped it with my elbow,
sent it tumbling to the floor –
and it shattered.
I picked the largest pieces to salvage.
One slice of porcelain rocked
on the tile, wavering from side,
and I cried for all broken things
that can never be fixed.
So much depends
Upon
a black coffee
cup
faded with use
steam
into the faces
of us all
Theres a storm
Brewing in my mug
The coffees dark
The pane is dusty
The clouds are black
And the cup all brown
Reflect on to me
From the book below
Lines words and para
memories lie folded
Some toxic some not
In wooden frames
The light reverberates
Thro intangible channels
Of Materialism
Just another
stormy morn
Need to mend
The storm within....
Theres a storm
Brewing in my mug
Oh, I’m nothing but a red polka-dotted pug.
I’m silly and smug and my name is Mug.
I need to see the Wiz to remove these dots,
I don’t care of he has to peel, pull and tug,
I’m just so sick of these red circle spots!
I shall walk along the yellow brick road to see
if the Wiz of Oz would like to fumigate me.
Will I see the Tin Man who needs a heart?
Or is that just how it is in the Oz movie?
If I were real, who would play my part?
So here I am on this path to see the Wiz,
even though he don’t know who I is.
I’ll be like, “Hey you! Get rid of my imperfections!”
And he would do it like it’s none of his biz!
We’d share a rare bond and Ozardly connection.
Dorothy and Toto! Is it really you guys?
I didn’t expect you, let me clear my eyes.
Can you lead me to the right place I need to be,
you know where I can take off my polka-dot disguise?
I’d finally be who I want to be, normal and free.
I approach the Coward of the forest wood,
He craves that courage and being understood.
So he sings a song of an annoying tale,
wants to be “King of the Forest” if he could.
I decide to move along slowly like a desert snail.
OH BOY! Here I am and the end of the road.
These dots sure were such a heavy load.
“So, Wiz…can you help peel off my fur
so it can grow back after it’s neatly sewed?”
He said, “dear Mug, yes you need help, I concur.”
I say, “thank you”, and was on my merry way.
I’m sore and bruised but it’s a glorious day!
No longer am I unlike the other pugs I know,
I’m conventional and typical, I am okay.
I’m just a regular pug, a common Pug-Shmoe!
Off to See the Wizard Contest
Charles Messina
November 26, 2018
Usually I try to look and dress the best I can
But today I awoke without hope, looking like a mug shot destined to happen.
I wish the strange fish-hook-shaped line under my left eye
Was at least symmetrically arranged to match the one under the right.
How did I age ten years overnight? Did I sleep wrong?
Did I make some deal with the devil and now the details forgot?
Is it so much to want the lines on both sides to simply coordinate right?
Still, I acknowledge that wrinkles are far preferable to the teenager’s acne fight.
Crows' feet around the corners of my eyes show I’ve lived long,
And they sometimes help cajole people into believing I'm sincerely smiling when I'm not.
And there are times I actually like them
because I can feel like I’m Willie Nelson,
except with no money or pot to get me through the day -
that’s what I tell myself, anyway.
This morning my image in the mirror looks like another mug shot waiting to happen by tonight;
Maybe even a feature on Cops if I really work it well for the cameras when I get read my rights! (I'm already daydreaming of a watch party!)
So I go out to the world and name and claim my smile-enhancing age lines
Because if I have any say in it, this perfect mug shot is going to be well worth its price.
A moment on the Cyber Café at Fewa Lake
1.
In the Mug of the Fewa Lake
Reflecting the pure blueness of the sky
With the fluttering of the Fishtail
My eyes sparkle with
The taste of organic coffee
That chills my throat
By the tranquil and serene Fishtail
My whole heart at ease
In a mug of coffee.
2.
Faraway in the foothill
A heavenly village
Of the stone houses in row
From the black slated rooftops
Pours the rains of golden rays
By the blushing evening
My tender lips taste
The beauty of village green
Into mellifluous nectar
In a mug of coffee.
3.
From the field of greenery
Resonates the incredible laughter
Of the village girls
With the flocks of sheep
Back to their village homes
Reveals their enticing beauties
This dusky moment creates
The heartthrob of the village
As an allegory of folk song
In a mug of coffee.
4.
On the west side of Fewa Lake
In harmony with the Eve
A charming couple, newly married
Inebriated in ardor and fervor
Cruises on a wooden boat
Into the waters of the Fewa lake
With dancing rudders itch
The ripple and surge of
Foamy and bubbly love
In a mug of coffee.
5
Around the Annapurna range
Tiny airplanes
Like the white butterflies
Fluttering in the air
The corneas of the eyes
Kiss the tops of the Himalayas
In the Annapurna ranges
Perceive the gesture with
Miracle and marvel
In a mug of coffee.
6
In the lucid and clear gloom
Before the breaking of dawn
The Eyes of the Sarangkot
Grasp the Himalaya ranges
Glowing like the blaze
Of the golden mountains
My beholding eyes in awe!
As the sun rises up the East
The Himalayas resume
Its splendor into silvery beauty
In a mug of coffee.
7
Like the fairy in Fairy tales
With imitated wings
My beloved glides high
From the lofty height of Sarankot
Her eyes scribble the poetry –
Serenity of Fewa,
Tranquility of Fishtail
Vivacity of Pokhara,
The visitors in bliss
On the verge of Fewa lake I’m
Waiting for her to land
The metaphor tastes sugary
In a mug of coffee.
*
Lifting the dark, heavy coffee mug,
I drank to the comforts of drinking—
For the repossession of nostalgia
My neck was burning
As the liquid skipped down my throat,
A moon-like face shining in the cup
I downed the rest of childhood,
Drowning in dismal déjà vu
Staring at her sadly... reflecting
At the bottom of the mug,
She stared back insatiably
Did she truly hate me—or miss me?
I drank to the last drip
I would only see her face again
When my distinctive thirst returned
I love my coffee mug
The color background white
On the front of the mug
It has an etching image
The handle is red
Same inside the
There is an etching
Of a Tabby cat
He has an expression
Of a pout on his face
In a grumpy mood
He wears a red
Then quotes " I love Christmas
Meow!"
He is Grumpy the Cat
Motherly Mug
My son’s first love
the break up it was heart breaking
It had come to shove
and no longer for the taking was
My daughter in the making
to me most caring
Feminine not faking
Hindsight - I was overbearing
So keen was I for
this here dating
Considered future mating
Granny in the making
What fool am I
yearning for this thing
How dare I cry
that is not the way a daughter’s true love comes by
Coffee mug, mediocre and customary,
Though a marvel of paint and pottery,
Rests on a levelled shelf of kitchen,
Peeps out of glass anxiously.
I pick up every fine morning,
So that it doesn't go uninspired,
To make a great shake of coffee,
Of no unexceptional ability.
Quenches intellectual thirst,
That invokes impulses most unusual,
Starts the day with a bang,
Making the maximum and the most anyone could.
No lesser than a reverend it behaves,
Extraordinary mission by the ordinary,
Atonement of the satiety with pleasure,
Returns to its jurisdiction the glass shelf !!
Does an empty jar weep? 6
Crying wine or water 6
My hollow bowl thirsty 6
You scream for wet matter 6
Yet you lie like a dry monk 7
Patiently waiting for me 7
Your mouth opened to be drunk 7
Your rim or lips parched for sea 7
In the morning, you ask for wine 8
In a mug with dogs chasing tails 8
The closed grocery store makes us pine 8-9
Open up, a cab will fill pails 8
Some saucers are cracked by ache, some whole 9
We are engineered to seek fullness 9
Wanting bleeds endlessly through cleft bowls 9
Air, condense between my chinky mess 9
Wine, stop bleeding ruby through fissures 9
Without care for the states of matter 9
If air settling be a treasure 8-9
But, air doesn’t ache like pitter patter 9-10
To be still like an empty mug 8
Bleeding coffee as air pours in 8
My glazed mug with a fractured dog 8
Waiting for the bare morning’s din 8
Without a care what goes in 7
Emptiness is illusion 7
Top me inanimate bin 7
But, I’m flesh with desires undone 7-8
Parched rims need a wet kiss 6
Mugs aren’t displeased with airs 6
Flesh cracks crave what’s amiss 6
Grow legs to run from tears 6
In time, cut off limbs 5
Be like a quiet mug 5-6
Drinking breath in sips 5
Full from emptiness 5
What a concept 4
Purposeless cup 4
Cracks do adapt 4
Weep this f-up 4
Vapors rise 3
Walls shatter 3
Cracks surprise 3
Mad Hatter 3
Teacups? 2
Cuckoo 2
Cracks weep 2
Super glue 3