Contrition for the recorded events of frugalities.
So abstemious have I been, thriving largely in
Defenceless glares of the four-eyed.
Now I have learned to creep alone and weep alone,
Closing tacitly the chapters written in mundane ink,
Reluming the smouldering logs of long slumber.
I have told every truth in loud moments
Now I have only but few lies in my saliva
And I intend puking the remaining few . . .
The pulp and the reed among the wayside waters
Must have tilted in the direction of their winds.
Bloated and deflated, this ego of worth, crimson
With the bath of birth.
Rebirth, woven in colourful Renaissance yarn, has awoken
The drunken somnambulist
The pipers come piping hot, and the stolen trumpet,
Hidden in the soft crests of wisteria,
Alerts the souls of the roosts.
I crave the creation formula of the Sixth Day.
The sage among us have broken many books
And licked many paintings —surrealism —in the
Image of the contorted face, writhing in the throes of
Elevated glances shelved in the mirror-images of Knowledge.
Could there be comeuppance for inquiring into the deep?
Cold winter night
Snow on the tree branches covered in white, frost on the leaves cover the covet stone streets..
People of all ages, are gathered in Rice park anxiously awaiting the winter carnival festivities to begin, parades, warm apple cider, hot cocoa delights the senses, enticing the young and old.
Rice Park is a buzz of excitement, ice sculptures meticulously carved out in the cold, the bright winter moon lights up the sky. St Paul is a city of its own, The St Paul Hotel with its glamour lights up the back round, to know St Paul is to visit its famous Rice Park.
Couples both young and old, holding hands as they are dancing in the snow, sipping on their still piping hot drink reliving their first date, stealing a passionate kiss, oh I’m sure their saying, “Never let this night end”.
Rice Park is surely a delight, do come again. I promise the winter snow will keep you in delight.
Ground and roasted coffee beans.
Rich, smooth, creamy, coffee blends.
Measured out to percolate.
Passed then through a fine filtrate.
Freshly brewed and piping hot.
Sipped real slowly hits the spot.
Morning coffee caffeine fix.
Sitting inside a local coffee shop,
Just a brown-haired girl with glasses and a book.
Sitting alone, hands wrapped around an ivory-colored mug filled to the top with piping hot coffee. Her brown eyes watched the wisps of steam rolling off her coffee, slowly disappearing into nothingness.
The coffee shop was her getaway.
That comforting scent of fresh coffee beans with a hint of vanilla.
The music melting into your soul, indie music engulfed the room.
Closing her eyes, taking in the soothing moment to keep under lock and key in her memories.
With each sip of coffee, this moment was engraved into her memory for life.
Oh pizza, oh pizza
You are so piping hot,
That I would gobble you up right on the spot.
Oh pizza, oh pizza
You're so sticky and gooey,
And so scrumptiously chewy.
Oh pizza, oh pizza
You are such a delicious food,
And always put me in a great mood.
Oh pizza, oh pizza
Rather it's pepperoni, mushrooms, or ham,
You are the great I Am!
Oh pizza, oh pizza
How wonderful you taste!
I don't care if you go to my waist.
Oh pizza, oh pizza
I love you so much,
That I'll eat you for breakfast, dinner or lunch.
I this morning in glory be!
Please don't think this simplicity;
For my darling wife made for me,
A piping hot cup of tea.
There’s fish and chips on the table
It’s lovely and all piping hot
Sauce and vinegar was in bottles
Salt and pepper each in its pot.
Now it’s laid out on the table
Driving me more and more to despair
It’s in individual little sachets
And some of them won’t tear.
My fish and chips lie uneaten
And they’re rapidly losing heat
Without a splash of vinegar
Their taste just isn’t complete.
Stuff just poured out of bottles
Didn’t give me the despair
Of wrestling with plastic satchels
That just won’t bloody tear
There’s designers and designers
Each in a field of their own
And I’m sorry if I’m grumpy
And ever ready to have a moan
But there is this little saw
That’s Quite frequently spoken
Just don’t try and fix a thing
If the original ain’t broken.
Steaming, a cup in hand
Piping hot liquid, deliciousness
Found on the heavy blend,
Sunlight reflections on the glass,
Window pane glistening,
With its gentle brilliance.
Steaming, one cupful of enjoyment,
Pleasant like the morning,
When the dew drips quietly,
Shimmering on the edges of a rose,
Blushing, shy – like the sunrise
Who beckons from the mountain crests,
Portraying the wonder of a dawn
When light penetrates
Forests and thickets with blessings.
Steaming, a cup in hand
Promising to share the moments,
Just before darkness abandons the night,
Wistful and whimsical as daybreak,
When the joy of morning begins,
And light seeps through the shadows,
Pouring hope into the carefully laid plans.
Steaming, one cupful of love,
Breathless and flowing – singing
Rhythmic as the new dawn,
Enjoyed by those who know this love –
Coffee is like the silence,
Who prepares hearts for the time,
Passing us by… the moments,
Treasures we can’t keep but still,
We won’t weep, because these treasures….
They are the fortunes found in memories –
And those memories… jewels we keep!
f
l
o a
a r
t o
i m
n a
g
from brimful cup I drink in bed
the piping hot reviving brew I
Darjeeling tea in cold winter h
morning gives me heavenly o
pleasure peps up joyfully d l
my sleepy listless spirit
cup of golden tea
==========================
I have an in-born low immunity against cold,
so, when my nose ran lose and mucus rolled,
my mother used to make for me everyday
lemon coriander soup I liked, I would say.
Using mother’s recipe I now cook this soup a lot
with celery, onion, cabbage and carrot
as the primary vitamin C-rich ingredient,
combined with garlic, parsley and leek for scent.
A dash of lemon juice and a bit of sugar
make the soup appetizingly sweet and sour.
With floating coriander leaves and pinch of pepper,
the clear soup turns deliciously tangy and a gripper.
When I am down with cold and a bad cough,
this soup gives me great relief in times tough.
Savoring it piping hot bowlful at dinner with delight,
makes me feel warm and cozy in chilly winter night.
I'll take you on a floatplane ride
I know some quiet lakes
We'll land and in the marshes hide
Drift where the current takes
We'll moor along the shoreline
I'll provide the gear
We'll set up camp then light a fire
And spend the evening here
We'll talk until the sun goes down
Then snuggle in the tent
The great outdoors gets cold real quick
Once the day is spent
But that's ok, the night is long
We'll find something to do
Inside the sleeping blanket
Alone, just me and you
At sunrise I'll get up and make
Fresh coffee, piping hot
Then go and catch our breakfast
And cook it on the spot
I'll wake you with a gentle kiss
While whispering your name
And when those blue eyes open
I'll kiss you once again
Come out now, all's prepared for you
A feast made for my queen
All done to perfection
A picture perfect scene
Then when the morning slips into
The early afternoon
I'll pack the gear and load the plane
And one last time I'll swoon
My little dove, I'll shower you
With kisses from my heart
And right before we take off,
Once more,
Then we'll depart
Every morning it’s my habit not so new
of drinking from a brimful cup,
the piping hot reviving brew,
as from bed I listlessly get up.
I try various types of tea and their progeny,
herbal, green, brown and even spicy,
get the satisfaction of a low degree,
often the sip becomes dicey.
Gaining simple pleasure from concoction,
I get to think is not my cup of tea,
until in the Himalayan hill station,
I taste the famous Darjeeling delicacy.
The aroma of golden liquid delights my sense,
drives me to go on a drinking spree,
turns me into an addict of its pleasure hence,
enthuses me to drink everyday a cup of this tea.
_______________
February 10, 2023
Contest : A Simple Pleasure
Sponsored by : Julia Ward
A mug of steaming tea
Piping hot, so warm
The perfect remedy
For a winter storm
Or a cold and rainy day
Like it is today
A cup of brew
And thoughts of you
Take all the chill away
It was 45 degrees in the mountains this morning…I did a temperature check
but I wouldn’t let that stop me from having my breakfast on the deck.
For a chance to eat outdoors….a little cold weather I wouldn’t let my resolve dent
so I bundled up…grabbed my piping hot bowl of oatmeal and out the door I went.
And there I sat watching and listening as the morning came alive…for it didn’t take too long…
before the birds began to gather and sing their morning songs.
Soon the leaves began to softly sway…back and forth among the trees…
laughing at a joke, perhaps, whispered by the breeze.
With the blue sky of the morning acting as it’s canvas…it’s backdrop…
the sun began it leisurely journey across the mountain tops.
It was such a wonderful feeling…so many sights and sounds to savor…to behold…
That it didn’t matter at all to me…my oatmeal was getting cold.
In fact in the cold of the mountain morning…I felt I was the lucky one…
because even cold oatmeal tastes better
when you share it with the birds,
the breeze…
the sun.
Tasty newcomer, taco pizza is found only one place in our town
Once discovered, many of our teenagers ran there on Friday nights
Their tag-along-younger-brothers-and-sisters watched the cooks
Through a pass through window, which had them exaggerating efforts
We could smell them before they came out of the oven
Golden brown and piping hot. The cooks sprinkled them with cheeses,
And bits of freshly cut lettuce, tomatoes, and we salivated, waiting
Like dogs who had not been fed from Monday to Thursday
Our town is small; we were lucky to get one pizza parlor; we had two.
They both closed their doors, because the teens stopped going
They could not compete with the prizes at the gas station,
Which was also the only place we could purchase a taco pizza.
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