Brewing Poems - Poems about Brewing

Paddy was a hit man for the Irish Mob hired to be slick and do a whack job but he didn't have the knack or know the trick without being caught and put in the nick behind bars but not the sort one might think where a few jars may be bought and he did so love a drink more than one too many was his undoing the cause...

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slow sip creamy mud skin under heartbeats speeding — my taste echoing words of heat airs lift swallow morning kiss on bright mug's brim, smokescreen operation breathless...

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You’re ever captivating; Somber so stimulating; Liken a hot cup of caffeine; Such joy you’re phenomenal being; Production such a darling; Top notch gentleman so charming; Grooving N moving Boiling and fermenting; The result with yeast production; Them there your dance moves, keeps on truckiN You’re ever captivating; Somber so stimulating; Liken a hot cup of caffeine; Such joy you’re phenomenal being; You’re ever captivating; Somber so stimulating; Liken...

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There is a private place where we can be alone A private space we’re were we are brewing souls Like a cup of hot brazen in ceramic coffee cup Just you and I just us… In a pot boiling hot with added sugar, cream instill By chance yet still in chance we are… Brewing Such a cozy warm sweet place Filled cup of...

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You’ve created this storm inside me The rainfall that happens to be tears I shed for you for the sake of feeling empty I call out to you, sincerely and bitterly throughout the years Thunderclouds come rolling in now Somehow, I’ve been breaking my longevity of positivity’s vow I’m sorry I’ve let you down If only I can remarkably drown You made my...

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Filling me up to the brim with hope, My emotions slowly sliding down that slope. Suspicion building up, why is he hurrying? Tension climbing, crazy, worrying. Sadness, betrayal, sword sharp memories, Staying strong is harder than it seems. Drowning in an addiction to drugs, Hiding it all under the rug. Hollow, exposed, nowhere to go,...

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Flights of fancy, a young man's game visions brewing, not one the same... Dawns a slate-gray day, corrective lenses ordered horizon's blank ~ anticipation murdered...

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a blindingly foggy day, powdery wind blowing it's whistle without cease. out in the blizzard, a man in his vehicle, immobile in the deep snow. he's plucked out of the brutal mercy of the winter storm. seeking refuge in a good samaritan's garage; teeth chattering, body trembling, frequently shaking frost-bitten hands; hurricane of anguish churning at the pit of his stomach. he's sipping hot cocoa ah, relief! Winter Storm Poetry Contest Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues Date...

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The rain is coming in; the wind is blowing hard. The plus side take: won’t have to rake the leaves out of my yard. I’d best get out and walk, and do it pretty soon. The radar’s mean, red mixed with green, and not a Christmas tune! Or maybe I’ll just wait, put coffee on to brew, and ride the bike instead of hike, and have a cup or...

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Each year, some slips away; I’m just not that upset, but I’m not that old yet, if truth be told. At some point down the road, it maybe catches up; for now I’ll pour a cup, but not too bold. Ideas still pour in; I write them while they’re hot. The downside of this thought: my coffee’s cold. ————— An Abhanga: 6x-6a-6a-4x...

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9I have a little drinking pot It’s been everywhere with me Ive used it every single day For brewing my Rosie Lee. I've looked after my pot With attention and care Its lovely brown patina Coating inside everywhere. It adds a certain depth To every single brew. Best pot care tradition, just One of those things you do. I’d quickly rinse my pot Every...

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Are you aware of Death's true name? How can I verify his name's veracity? What entices him to the heart of his being? He's been dubbed "Dread" Others have pranked Inevitable, As of yet, these are only names. You'll notice if you're cautious, Motivation elicits his real name. Carry on with your life utterly wary. Not far away, doom is brewing. Written: March 28, 2022...

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People don't love me. People just hate me. I just won't see People won't take me. What is their problem? What have they got stacked up against me just as I've got? What am I asked for? Why am I fought? What am I suffering for just as they thought? How can I get help? How could they not? Why am I expected to live with their haught? Why am I...

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A storm is brewing. Heavy water laden clouds rise thickly, the darkening sun plunges quickly behind deep purple mountains, hiding the gentle moonlight that normally lights my erratic way. I meander absentminded around a maze of mountain paths, suffering a terrible purgatory. For the storm is raging outside and inside of me. Outside electric serpents flash across the dark skies. Inside is an aching heart of...

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Now let me see, how is this world doing For better or worse the same old poo-pooing Just seems to me Up the same old tree Nothing's changed, more trouble's a-brewing...

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