Long Hot chocolate Poems
Long Hot chocolate Poems. Below are the most popular long Hot chocolate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hot chocolate poems by poem length and keyword.
When I was a child, my cousin and I
Joined my aunt to see concerts designed
To expose kids to music and all of its joys,
But only the classical kind.
At a nearby café, where we stopped for a treat,
Hot chocolate was made and prepared,
From a chocolate bar heated up in a pan
With some milk, which we happily shared.
It’s remained in my memory bank all these years
And on some rare occasions, I crave
Such a cup, though I know it won’t equal
That one that my mind chose to save.
Still today I decided to give it a shot
And I stopped at a place where it’s sold,
But my order was met with a shrug and, of course,
Here’s the message that I was then told:
“We’re out of hot chocolate. There’s none to be had.”
I guess fate stepped in to prevent
Me from drinking a cup that could never compare,
In my mind, to the slightest extent.
Christmas morning comes
And little feet pitter patter to the living room.
Children are excited to see the Christmas stockings hanging from the fire place stuffed and presents all wrapped with care sitting under the Christmas tree.
Stockings are opened
and breakfast of waffles and hot chocolate are had.
Then their is a panic and rush to get the turkey into the oven so that it can be enjoyed in the evening around the table by loved ones.
Finally into the oven goes the turkey and the parents breathe a sigh of relief. It's now time to relax around the Christmas tree and enjoy opening Christmas presents and seeing what everyone got and the reactions on everyone's faces.
323 years later,
I fell into his tasteful melody with those jaw-dropping harmonies that take me to the prettiest places when I fall into real dark places.
It’s so unusual how he’s the only one who knows how to pull me out of that place when I’m not here.
The music he writes is like,
Coming in from the cold, snow left untouched with a beautiful nighttime glow, and sipping on hot chocolate while dancing around in my coziest socks, no pants with a 2Pac shirt on.
His music has always given me that “mmmm” feeling when the morning coffee hits just right.
Am I outta line saying these things?
Maybe, maybe not but I don’t care.
Someone has to say it.
His voice is so velvety through my phone,
And he sticks to me like a Butterfinger.
There’s a few bars I know where no one will bother us with our vodkas, and we can stumble through the parking lot, while we play guitar in the air, and headbang to nothing,nowhere.
If he would ever fall, I’d pick him up and drink the tears he hides, wipe them all away because seeing him so wounded, kills me in the worst way.
I remember the smiles he gives me when he feels like dying, it makes my glass house shatter.
Those fears, those tears, won’t happen when I’m here because I’ll always be here.
He will never be without love and he will never go unnoticed by me.
The fire's reach is ideal, not too high.
The dancing orange embers keep us warm.
Winter's harsh wrath is ever drawing nigh.
But the hearth protects from the cold and storm.
By the fireplace new stories unfold.
Of how we outlast season to season.
These make the tales of both new and of old.
We can and will survive; we have reason.
Coffee and hot chocolate make the day.
A movie or two keeps us together.
And we will make sure we gather to pray.
We will gather here now and forever.
All winter it is us by the fire.
Through games and laughter we always endure.
Old Man Winter will finally tire.
We will last by the hearth; that is for sure.
Many years have passed by the fireplace.
Many are those who have stayed at this space.
Beneath the frozen dome of a late December, I learned with melancholy
That those who gave me wings are not the titans I summoned in my childhood dreams,
But two earthlings, stirring my dreams into an aura, breathing whims of ice and smoke into the cauldron of my being.
And in that harsh month of ice, when my soul huddled beneath the timid dawns,
The mug of hot chocolate by my bed becomes a herald, laden with unspoken words,
The warmth of a mother saying without words how much you need to warm yourself at life's bosom,
And I, unknowingly trampling over gifts with ignorance, with a silent longing buried in routine.
Oh, how I wish I had known how to unravel the thread of love, for it is an art crushed by the weight of the earth,
It struggled through dungeons of misunderstandings, attempted, I understand now, to tear down the cold walls between us,
I would like to take back the harsh words, the disputes that scratched the delicate veil of our connection,
But I was only a dandelion in the wind's path, a child who did not understand that this play is most earnest.
And as I step towards the dawn of a new phase, at last aware,
I realize there are no castles without shadows, that each family is a legacy of forgiveness and forgetting,
Love, an ancient coin that we are still learning to pay the right price for, it starves us and sometimes satiates,
And now, I see that it, always trying to mend what we have torn, still extends the thread back to me.
I would have liked to have been more whole, to have answered the call of her heart with honesty, without denial,
But reality knocked me down with fragments of walls, and I remained there, a child with the world on his shoulders,
Stripped of excuses and pretexts, with an open heart to the truth - all that have made us what we are today.
When I retreat into the hearth of the night, I find the blanket spread over me, hiding my fleshly embarrassments,
And when I look up at the sky, maybe I erred, but in the infinite blue I understand that it is never too late,
Life without those pawns who ignited the spark in the archers on the chessboard is inconceivable to me,
And no matter how fate weaves and unravels, everything started with them,
And an overwhelming sense holds me, that it will all end with them too.
I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member.
—Groucho Marx
Adventure is just bad planning.
—Roald Amundsen
Must Be A Carnival
Lady, what did you see
advertised? Boat leaves the dock.
Your apparel, a shock.
Going cruis’n…cruis’n you say.
No time
to be lose’n.
Lady, did you pack light? …for
romantic nights. Take a peek
out the window. It’s after dark.
Tourists, look a bit screwy,
you’re near. Must be a Carnival,
it’s not.
This ship is a swing’n.
Everyone’s going out
for some drink’n.
You weren’t expecting
hot chocolate. Your Summer dress
blow’n in Alaskan winds.
The cold wrapping your legs
sans warmers. Your sandals
flopping upon the deck.
Lady, people are staring.
Have you beamed aboard?
Did someone blindfold you?
Were you buffaloed? Petunia,
are you dense? Pretense,
that you are at ease.
“I meant to dress this way.”
or perhaps it was a dare.
Daring for sure.
Lady, the ship looks a bit
lopsided,
with you.
Goodbye love
I say to you
As
I
Float 13,000 feet
above
And
I've left
my heart
with you down below
Goodbye sun
That
Pours light over
Mountains
Goodbye
Pure air
That rises the lungs
only satisfying me
Sun
You
Climb higher than the clouds
And mountains
Your majesty.
And
beauty
I will miss
Always
Filling out the horizons
and Guiding me home.
Goodbye
Ocean
I whisper………
But
Your
Waves crash
Into the rocks
who
stained green
show years of your
abuse
I stand before you
Ocean
Your frustration Is
Warranted
because
I’m leaving you again
Just listen
A year
Wanting you
I’ll be missing
Goodnight
Home
Someday
Ill be back once more
For
you again.
To take it all
in
Once more
Soaring spirits
in
Seattle wind
Goodbye
Friends
Every homecoming
is my adventure
and your the epic
part of it
Goodbye Love
There are
Bittersweet kisses as we part
Reminiscent
On my
Lips
But they
Will not
Keep me warm
In the absence of light
But pure love
to keep me safe in the dark
I swallow your words
Like
Hot chocolate
Sweet
Love
I'll never more
be cold
Goodbye Love
I hope you will not forget
This
Summers
Minuet
Form:
I’m more inclined to write of shoveling snow
As I like to write about the things I know
Yet will reflect upon the dazzling flakes
Depending on how long the shoveling takes
For children wait with snowmen on their minds
And mother peeks from behind venetian blinds
While I the roller of “snowmanic” orbs
Must protect my snowball fight reserves
Snow angels hover o’er the battlefield
To see if age or youth is first to “yield”
Surrend’ring to the call to outside lunch
Hot chocolate and the sound of snowy crunch
Thus does the chill of winter thrill us all
Whether we be snowmen short or tall
I do not intend
be pretentious,
but I tell you ...
Crying
it brings a lot of cold, ...
Calor the warmth of laughter
that scalding
our feet,
that illuminates
our cute face,
fun ...
Save that cold
to show
your affection
between covers and
hot chocolate...
Crying does not
disguise ugliness
if there is ...
But laughter
it's further active
that any
adorn...
Abuses enough
of joy for
letting everything be a party,
and carry that cold
apparent
of your forehead...
it's just psychological,
With a kiss given you
throw it away ...
Cry and laugh
on the face
friend, are
weapons in
arsenal
of life...
I already showed you
the best,
way and you?
What do you prefer !...?
Flickering, glistening sounds of night
Your warm hand keeps mine protected from the frost
Stars twinkle above like the warmth of your heart
Our hearts have a view of the snow covered hillside
Candles flicker in the sky
We bask in warmth, two thinkers with their minds in an intuitive escape
Spiritual bubbles provide the fragrance of vanilla, our perfume of choice
White icing with vanilla flavor, a snow cone so tasty,
Hot chocolate, all the sweet flavors,
The garden of organic vegetables
For the time being, covered in snow, contrasting the warm body heat
Moving in and out of my mind, through the seasons of the year
I feel your spirit and pull you so close
A warm hug, the best I've ever known, truly heartfelt, here as we
Hike through the snow, in silence, hearts protected from the frost,
Ever growing, love bestowing.