Best Sip Poems
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
Greeting new sun, spanning over vast sea
Wailing upon hills, watching freedom shine
Sprinkling over prairies echoes of glee
Greeting new sun, spanning over vast sea
Sailing air on pointed bills and webbed feet
Sprinkling over prairies echoes of glee
Grabbing fish, hunting crabs, feasting on treat
Sailing air on pointed bills and webbed feet
Circling green oceans, conquering blue sky
Grabbing fish, hunting crabs, feasting on treat
Reigning winds, above the cliffs, thrusting high
Circling green oceans, conquering blue sky
Traversing sunlit designs, boasting zest
Reigning winds, above the cliffs, thrusting high
Flaunting flexing wings of enchanting quest
Traversing sunlit designs, boasting zest
Glancing marigold scenes on amber arc
Flaunting flexing wings of enchanting quest
Eyeing gilded tides where golden rays spark
Glancing marigold scenes on amber arc
Wailing upon hills, watching freedom shine
Eyeing gilded tides where golden rays spark
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
December 10, 2019
Placed first: Seagulls poetry contest; Sponsor: Eve Roper
Ten syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
Placed 2nd: Strand special 9 by Brian Strand
Placed 2nd: Your best December poem poetry contest by John Hamilton
When my fatigued pen,
succumbed to a sleepy state of silence
in the market place of silent poets,
I searched for a tea room to stimulate my mind
my quest led me to you.
I do not recall the colours
of the cup, nor the saucer.
Only the shimmer of light,
reflecting your delicate,
slightly tanned hands.
I wondered, was it the chai
or those hazel bronze eyes -
something left me mesmerised.
One sip,
a sudden sense of serenity
overcame me -
like the sun had risen through my heart,
warm rays beamed through my eyes.
To not lose the moment,
I sipped slowly, savouring subtle sensations.
Silky smooth liquid caressed my tantalised tongue,
as taste buds yearned for just one sip from your lips.
Suddenly, a profusion of poetic thoughts
began to burst through my mind.
This was no simple musing.
Rekindled pen began to flow like rivers of chai.
Alone, beneath the skies of sunset wine,
infuse me with your golden minutes’ keep -
break the cloudy mantle’s mood so dreary,
subdue the winds to flutes of airy sweep
imbibing rays of crimson-orange hues,
inebriate to liberate dull senses seized -
fly away! those murky flocks of gray no longer moody
a consequence of sweet relief received.
Susan Ashley
September 29, 2020
(December 21, 2019)
i sip those coffee irises
which beckon my core
sans a resounding wave
or bawdy utterance
the strong, robust urge
a breathless yearning
i stir that drink
with a flirtatious cream
i lean into his cup
the grind of healthy soil
a tasty, deep, romantic bean
those eyes ~ my twinge
a loving cup
pours into every kiss
the slide of lips
the palming caress
oh how those eyes dance
in throes
the thrill that wakes me up
stirs him to sleep
content beneath the sheets
those coffee irises
hidden from my view
i’m totally taken
8/1/2022
Necessarily to Samora
On the stream, a cork was thrown
She sank in
She tripped on
She was picked up
A beach, a wave and a sailing ship don’t matter.
You will arrive at the time of coming back.
-Faceless towards passion-
When the dawn was agonized, morning came
I’d be dreaming my dream
The delusion of paddling the sea of love without safety
That passing by valley slits the front of my house
Brings and takes water -don’t you mind giving me a cup!-
This instant…
Domesticated with pain
Your loyalty is vital and you are well-worn
Imagine you
Laying nearby in others snaky arms
The arms that shot my heart
---it shaded lights on more beats
Instead of the distance
Gone astray is not at ease. With the wind and with the wind
This instant…
Time struggle against time
As you smoulder my mind's eye into a fantasy
Days are nights and the same line of attack, sub- stories
Why reddish rose in my hand as you are all roses
I obey the truth; I’m only irritating other’s plant
I gain the fragrant of my tiredness –walking on by-
This instant...
Up above where air outdoes
The reverie is stubbornly standing
I still jump onto the floor preparing a glider for love
Uncut ropes and a silky seat for two birds
Poetess is my bird on shoulder, in veins and between bones
This instant…
Underneath the last sparkling star thinking and gazing
Into things that have been my own
That will never be my own.
Getting back to the memories
Swimming in an endless pool of images and words
Quenching the desire of missing, just somehow
This instant...
My senses flounce your absence
Your silent acquires me the language battles
---God! A German flight pierced the atmosphere
Shelled many wild birds there as I was only watching the scenes
This instant...
The valley’s slit leaves a border line
Face on the pane; I steal glimpses
Wiping away tears by sunny bar entity
Hanging on someone to bring me gathered drops
Steadfast-
“No more than one” I say to heaven-
When next my eyes are blessed to set on you,
May that be soon or further down the line,
Will tears refuse to paint with only blue,
And choose instead less colors viewed as mine;
I’ll see no beauty where it was before,
No lilac petals shall your garden grow,
And that it won’t, in dark, then to a store,
Where bottles sold are filled with fine merlot;
One sip is all these words will need to slur,
That tell left feet, a pair, attached my legs,
To stumble forth when hunger might occur,
But hear eternal hollow famished begs;
For years have passed since wine thin veins unwind,
Same your resplendence which turns vision blind.
In a city of fog and summerless light,
London hums softly, but nothing feels right.
Years have withered, your name still flows
Mithila, a whisper the morning wind knows.
We never danced in moonlit embrace,
Nor traced our fingers across time or space.
But the dots were sent… three soft ellipses…
Spoke louder than touches or lover’s kisses.
I heard you, without words, without sound,
Waves of canal cry where our hearts drowned.
You were my poem, unwritten but known,
My dream-shaped silence, my marrow, my bone.
You left as sudden as autumn leaves fall,
No reason, no echo, no curtain call.
And still I sit at this quiet Departure café,
Sipping my coffee as the ghosts replay.
Each afternoon, each cup, each silent stir
A ritual mourning the loss of her.
The seat across me is empty, yet warm,
Filled with a memory that breaks the norm.
We had no nights of candlelit rain,
No shared breath under windowpane.
But you were the soul of all I believed,
A love not touched, but deeply grieved.
Years don’t erase, they only delay,
The longing I carry, day by day.
I wait in the steam of my porcelain cup,
Still hoping one day you might look up.
So I wave my feelings into the air,
Like a flag for a ship no longer there.
Departure lingers where your shadow lay…
And I, still waiting, still love you today.
Winners sip champagne from a slipper
Losers wipe the sweat from their brow
Victory tastes sweet as apricot honey
Defeat's an empty stomach, without Ciao
The hummingbirds, they come and play,
sip the nectar, fly away.
To the trees then back to feed.
Sun on wings, a sight indeed.
The noise they make, quite unique
Nothing like normal bird-speak.
I sit on deck, they hover near.
Enjoying life, they show no fear.
These joyous moments enhance my day
as the hummingbirds, they come and play.
...and with a sip, the saddened lass
drained the half full, half empty glass.
As scorched sorrow burned her brain,
she drained the dregs that did remain.
There in the bottom, saw her world,
amid the amber, liquid swirls.
The gypsy reached out an ancient hand,
oil light danced off gold bands.
She gave a laugh, as dry as wind,
expecting gold, before she'd begin.
Needing to know what her future brings,
the lass passed over a cherished ring.
The lass who wore a burdened yoke,
preyed upon by loves cruel joke,
has eyes now dulled by potent brew.
Thick and muddled, thoughts now grew.
The wind howled a shriek of pain,
one fit to be a nighttime bane.
Soon, only the wooden table was lit,
by the lantern with sooted wick.
The lass focused upon a voice,
one that pulled and left no choice.
a voice so near, yet far away.
One that would mold the lass like clay.
It spoke of happiness yet to be.
of a love, not yet clear to see.
It bade her not to shed such tears,
don't let this hurt become your fear.
Think only of what is yet to come,
never recall the unfaithfulness of some.
The lass awoke from her liquid daze,
as from the gypsy, she rode away,
her heart now lighter, not knowing why.
She couldn't recall why she had cried.
The gypsy watched and shook her head,
whispering to herself as she readied for bed.
"Who's to blame for lost thoughts,
when truly it's forgetfulness that's sought?"
A SIP OF RED
I drink it because I love
I consume it because I enjoy it
I imbibe it because I like it
The perfect glass is its best setting
The darkest rouge its only dressing
The fragrance its deepest allure
Its body I so adore
Is taste always brings happiness to the fore
I am a connoisseur
Its richness compels me to drink it
Its bold aroma makes me sip it
The feelings it brings attracts me to it
I lovingly savour it
This is how I enjoy it:
I hold the glass up to look at its glow
Then I deeply inhale its bouquet
I swirl the red nectar around
And the excitement causes my juices to flow
The glass then goes to my eager lips
Forcing me to take a long gently sip
I coo as ambrosia touches my tongue
I lovingly let ecstasy bath my taste buds
They wantonly ravage it
As the walls of my mouth caresses it
I feel in heaven as I slurp it
Then I gladly swallow it
Down it goes setting my insides on fire
A warm feeling infiltrates me
A sinner I surely must be
For the devil's liquid has captured me
I have entered a spiral of sensuality
With good company or alone
I can never it disown
Plonk is not for me
Vintage I accept only
One mouthful is never enough
It is best when the glass is empty
My thirst needs it
The full bottle wants it
I just love having it
I am one with it
It is within me
It lets me be happy
I love it sincerely
Sip Coffee Nice And Slow
Going viral in social media space is a nice piece of writing...
Calling for readers to take life easy, sipping coffee nice and slow...
It makes such great reading , it is a great piece of writing......
Metaphorically we are to sit back to watch life as a show...
This writing is likely from a writer who has gone thro life...
Doing exactly what most of us has individually labored and done...
Doing our utmost best to secure the comforts in life in the times gone...
Only to suddenly realise Life has slipped past by...
We missed the little pleasures and joys in daily lives...
For we were caught up in the rush to better our stations in life...
Only now, after the many years of wear and tear...
We sit back and reminisce with peers so dear....
What a life journey it has been, we have to appreciate all that happened...
It's time to sip coffee nice and slow cos the best is yet to unfold....
The hurt, the pain were now combined.
Oh love, so lost, for which she pined.
A memory of sweet embrace.
Forever gone, without a trace.
This longing, now to be dissolved.
With just a sip quickly resolved.
And so the liquid death she drank.
Into the deadly sleep she sank.
Take Love's Sip
Life is all too often filled with discord.
People fighting wars, brothers die abhorred.
Visiting fantasy-land,
Dreams float by without demand.
Get a grip! Take love's sip; follow the Lord.
© July 31, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
A sip of wine feels oh, so fine
When I encounter tension.
It calms the nerves and too, preserves
Reality’s suspension.
A glass of wine’s not out of line
When there’s some apprehension
That things won’t be so fancy-free,
Though that’s not your intention.
A wine carafe might make you laugh
And, maybe by extension,
Your worries flee and then you’ll see
The powers of prevention.
A jug of wine may help define
And call to your attention,
The fact that life is filled with strife,
Which nobody will mention.
So have a drink; your fears will shrink.
I’ll broker no dissension –
And then you’ll sleep and problems keep
In slumberland’s dimension.