Long Creamer Poems
Long Creamer Poems. Below are the most popular long Creamer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Creamer poems by poem length and keyword.
*Image of Waterford Curio by Houzz.
Cup in the Curio Cabinet
An empty cup daintily accompanies
an assemblage of finery,
from old-world porcelains crafted
against Dutch Boy bluings,
bone China platters painted in
Eastern mystique watercolors,
cozy teapot, sugarbowl, and
creamer set in English rosewood,
a stage concerning crystal
stems elegant Irish sultry charms,
anticipation ...
what season be?
what hour is it now?
what satisfies this void?
2021 August 04
*4th Place*
Imagism
~~Emile Pinet: Judged 2021 September 01
Miss N.Y.C.
Double Etheree
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1
-----No
-romance,
-----promoting
her deep longing,
--------------sexuality.
-----------Only casually.
--Occasionally, my creep.
------I am her vanilla creamer,
blended well with her cappuccino
-----influence, sweet, stirred by my ********!
------------Mayor of my world, sole candidate
---in this election. Love injected.
--------Definition of perfection.
her body recites a verse,
softly singing to me.
-----Lovely poetry,
------stimulating
---- melody.
romance?
NO!!!!
Jared Pickett
10/5/09
Asavvy1
Remember me, the cool glass milk bottle. I used to sit on your front porch early in the morning. You could hear me arriving before the sun was up. I am a Bateson Model Dairy milk bottle, beautifully made of thick clear glass. A lot of milk bottles have been replaced with plastic but I am an expensive looking quality original. I am one of the most popular milk bottles in the area.
I came from a small processing dairy in Wingham, Ontario where the Bateson family owned and operated their business for many, many years. Working seven days a week during the very early hours bottling milk delivered from local farmers producing hundreds of bottles for their loyal customers.
Remember the wonderful clinking sound of the milk bottles arriving? Leaving out the empties represents many people’s first concept of recycling. I can remember that relatively traumatic moment when I was replaced with the carton. There was just something really wrong about pouring milk out of a carton because it didn’t have that refreshing coolness of a glass bottle. A cold bottle of milk has a certain integrity to it and the glass retains that. What a shame.
The milkman would deliver me to the door and collect the empties which held a few coins or milk tickets to pay for the fresh bottle of milk. Many conversations occurred on the stoop of each home as the family pet circled for a sniff. My travels around town went from the horse drawn milk wagon to a square van. Sometimes when the van stopped the old dog, Dina would wake up to chase a cat up a tree.
Over the years my shape has changed and my new caps gave me some upbeat fashion. But the quality of my contents stayed true. Sadly, if you show a child a glass milk bottle today he won’t know what it is. I come in many shapes and sizes, the quart, the pint, the half pint, the creamer and many more. The name printed on my side changed little over the years to keep the nostalgia of the small time dairy business.
Now I am considered an antique waiting on dusty shelves in antique shops for a new home. When you see me you may be thrilled to find a bit of history to place on the mantle of your home. You might recall childhood memories of the comforting sound of the milk man arriving at the door with fresh milk so very early in the morning.
motel lobby in arkansas
close to the crystal bridges
young man with tattoos walks to large creamer
he begins to pump creamer into coffee
sees me and indicates I go ahead of him.
Ii shake my head ‘no”
tell him to go ahead, he will be quicker than me
two polite strangers making conversation
in a motel lobby in arkansas
I sit down to eat my breakfast
watching people sauntering in and out
four children skip past, giggling like faeries.
they could be from new mexico or virginia
There are license plates outside from several states
I marvel that people are vacationing
in the middle of the week in arkansas
(opens fridge) "Oh, what to buy...what to buy! I clearly need to go grocery shopping. Several things available are running out. Bread? Ah, there...I've got Bread, and Orange Juice, and Milk. Eggs? Almost out."(closes fridge)
(looking through the pantry)
"I'm craving meatloaf, but I can't make it.
I don't have enough ingredients!
I wanted to cook spaghetti last night but something is missing.
I don't like my coffee black.
And I don't like my food bland, thank you very much.
I'm craving something sweet;
I'm not even a sweet tooth.
Go figure.
So off grocery shopping, I go!"
My grocery list is as follows:
Ketchup
Ground Beef
Italian Bread Crumbs
Meatballs
Hazelnut Coffee Creamer
Salt
Ice Cream
M&M's
Milk
Barbecue Sauce
Eggs
Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart (Winner: 2nd Place)
Dick written and submitted: 07/24/2019
We serve an elk and pork
Meatloaf. It is a staple here
It is a five star dish.
The elk back strap is a proud
dish. It is boiled in pork lard
For four hours. Sauce Casseur
With mushrooms and carmelized
Onion and garlic in the Casseur
Sauce and noodles.served butter
and lemon Asparagus dish.
A porch and truffle mushroom
Sauce.
Restaurant quality with a sophisticated
Style. A fried quail with a honey lemon
and blackberry brandy sauce. With a
Caesar Salad and sweet potato fries.
A shallow almond creamer on a shortbread
tart with raspberry sauce and whipped
Cream.
A ground elk and pork
Is mixed with breadcrumbs
Mushrooms, onions and garlic
Cayenne, celery, ginger
Seasoned with rosemary and thyme
Parmesan cream
Cooked under a buttery crust with
Leeks potatoes and carrots
Served with a beef marrow sauce
The Two steak plate (serves 5)
2 this portahouses cooked to a
Pinkish medium
With French onion shallop potatoes
With sour cream and garlic in a
Buttery turnover with cream cheese
and bacon Tender brussel sprouts
With stewed tomato's, smoked hock
Meat and garlic.
The wait shall be satisfied with
Bread and drink. Might the moments
Between such wait have conversation
fit for the occasion. Prepare to dine
Before the carriage leaves . Including
Tip and conversation and duration of
Wait, dine, and leave preparation.
Call and response, call and respond!
“Paste”
by Positive Mark
At times, I find it difficult to call myself a poet.
Can such a grandiose tag be placed on a recluse?
It’s one thing to possess a passion for words,
quite another to put them to use.
Political climates produce frigid spells, intended to get on your case.
Busted relationship matters that swell into masks that I wear on my face.
The pieces of man and his harsh incantations
The heartbreak of vixens revealed at this station
The murder of music
The horn blasts of sports
The sight of my girl’s daughter prancing in shorts
The use of two eyes, while ignoring the third
The smoking and toking of each broken word
The hairdo
The smile
The swagger
The butt
My slip on the grip left a kid in her gut
The Black on Black crime
The innocents shot
The infrared beam never placed in one spot
The wording
The phrasing
The stories we tell
The eloquent way to tell you “Go to Hell!”
The grease on my lips
The holes in my shoes
The deep crystal stare, tryna find Langston Hughes
The coffee
The creamer
The over used pot
The anguish of wanting to be what I’m not
The piping hot liquor that burns in my chest
The rhyme at the Devil’s behest
I’ve discarded pieces of my broken soul with the chaff on my living room floor.
The poetry virus just cannot be killed, so the hurt ones can even the score.
Peace.
There is a sense of wonder in your eyes
I can't understand your marvelous cries
I am surprised by your approval to let me go... I thank you wholeheartedly, you know?
I'm left in pieces in the woods of my mind and I hear the midnight crow
I'm a dreamweaver, tracing the auras of the eclipse
I'm facing my nightmare with much bravery in a bittersweet glimpse
I'm starting to grow fond of you,
Even if you are a dream come true
I'm starting to be attached to you,
Although we've parted ways out of the blue
I smile at the sand of the sea as my hopes never grow dry
I wave at the birds, taking wing
I nod at the sun in the sunny sky
I admire the scenery before my eyes as I gracefully sing
So terrified by the whistling wind of the west
I'm trying my best to pass life's difficult test
It's getting harder and harder to see the bright side
Something tells me not to worry, for I'm on God's ride
I take a bow at the sunset before me
I am in awe as I see the night approaching
I take a swim into the waters of vitality
I am willing to dive deep into the waves that are leaping
I am a true dreamweaver
I have become a believer
I'm sure my future isn't a blur
I will endure this hardship for sure
There is a cure to the pain and sadness of life
There is a Savior that will set us free from mere strife
I know that life is so unkind sometimes
We just got to have faith, even in dark times
I'm waiting for the moonlit stars to shine their lights on me
I'm praying for a time when chaos and corruption will fade away
I'm staying right here next to you until the end of time takes place
I'm figuring out the footprints that lead to your gracious face
I'm an angelic dreamweaver
I was made to be a believer
I'm a genie that grants three wishes to the overachiever
I'm enjoying the thrills of life's bizarre experiences that knock me over
I'm a splendid daydreamer
In the wintery nights, flowing with elegant coffee and creamer
I'm a long-suffering believer
In the shadows of the light, glowing with satisfaction and pleasure
There you sit, my Love,
holding nectar from above,
strong and rich and hot.
More awaits me in the pot!
Your serum lures me;
from my ennui, it cures me.
I clutch you and sup
from your bounty, coffee cup.
Dear, I hold you tight,
be it afternoon or night.
Solo, with a meal—
you possess immense appeal.
Folger’s, Maxwell House,
two great brands that I espouse,
Hazelnut or French
vanilla creamer and a pinch
of sugar creates
the magic mix that abates
my need for a sweet,
steaming, caffeine-laden treat!
November 29, 2016, entered in the Kim Rodrigues Wake Up with Coffee or Tea Contest
September 30, 2020
entered in the Completely Your Choice (19) Poetry Contest Placed 1st
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Chocolate bars full of nougat and peanuts,
Sour gummies that get stuck in teeth,
Chalky fruit-flavored tablets,
Things coated in colorful candy shells,
With metallic wrappers I constantly hear crinkle,
Covering an entire square foot of countertop.
The smell of coffee brewing at late hours,
Messes of creamer and sugar left unclean,
Mini donuts and cookies to dip in,
A constant sweet tooth that is never satisfied.
Better than cans and glass bottles overflowing the trash.
Better than the yeasty smell stuck in the air.
Sticky spills in the refrigerator,
Stains on carpet,
Broken lamps and vases,
Falling down the stairs,
The loss of someone still living.
Better than a drink before dropping off the kids at school.
Better than sleeping during the day.
Acting like this is normal.
Growing to an age where you start to notice the signs,
Constant crying and wondering why,
Never inviting friends over, they might notice,
Pouring things down the drain that I’m not supposed to touch,
Empty promises of quitting.
Maybe if I was a better daughter.
Staying up on school nights making sure she gets to bed safe,
Remembering to lock doors for her,
Taking care of her child only four years younger than I,
Losing hope.