Short Creamer Poems

Short Creamer Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Creamer by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Creamer by length and keyword.


Walking Dreamer

they walk around up and down
head hanging down
some look like a clown
 by there look
you get hook
 as eyes look creamer
WALKER  DREAMER


Day Sex Dreamer

its always in my mind
about our last time
we did it alnight
holding each other tight
can't forget am so wet
my soul like a sex creamer
am
DAY  SEX DREAMER

Dreamer Out of Coffee Creamer

A Dreamer Out of Coffee Creamer

God our redeemer
of coffee are big dreamer
ran out of creamer.

Jim Horn

Wonder if God is
and Christ are 
constant coffee
drinkers?
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Haiku

With a Controversay

With A Controversy 

People can come up with a controversy;
How horrible it is to have some heresy;
Read poem that appears;
Will overcome all fears;
Coffee we drank was full of chicanery.

Jim Horn

PS. As well as caffeine and creamer.
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Whats the Shtick With Coffee

What’s the shtick with coffee?
Why can my love, grow so cold, so fast?
Before microwaves, we’d keep to a tiny cup at a time
with no creamer. A little bit of the grind to warm us up-
a love so strong, kept on the fire. Cool beans*

2/14/203

*Sounds good
Form: Narrative


Coffee

I drink it daily,
the usual dark roast
with creamer 
and sweet and low

savor every sip
its bittersweet taste
linger on my tongue
till the last drop

Empty cup in hand,
I reminisce the candy 
of your breath
the poetry of your words

preserved in my diaries
my vocabulary
along with my youth
during your absence

Tripple Tripple

Double Cup my Tripple Tripple
And don't stir in a milk
Sugars 3 and creamer 4
I'd like to make a stilk

Horny steamered fattened slupe
Hands a clamoured cloupe
Barion blatter to uncouth
Bairked of plaiten mineral sluth

Made for ware on tathiered tooth
Closht decay on perished truth
Smiling draught to terrify
What all left gawking stare at WHY?
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member The Sweetener

As sweet as the coffee with sugar, creamer and milk
Words from the mouth are said
As the well-sweetened coffee is soothing to the taste buds
Words are nice to the ears
And heartwarming to the heart
But too much sweetener will cause toothache
And too much praises may block the melodies of life from the nature
Too much complement may make one proud and lazy

Coffee Creamer

I awoke in a fright
From my sleep last night
It must have been a bad dream
Could we possibly be out of coffee cream

Oh no, say it ain't so
But it appears as though
My wife went to Walmart
and had a big  brain fart

Please rectify this my dear
I want coffee creamer, not beer
My coffee is bad
without adding a tad

Please bring creamer for the refrigerator
and I will see you a bit later
Drive safely my dear
and don't hit a deer in the rear.
© Bob Beaman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member 30 Degrees Below Compassion

30 below 

Thinking about that homeless man
as I caress a cup of 
designer coffee.

In a snowflake I see his frozen face
as vanilla creamer slides down my throat.

Saw that homeless snowman 
three days in a row
nesting on the same corner
begging for a bowl.
but I never invited him home
for a bit of warmth
a crumb
to hear his yellowing stories.
 
Karma is barking at the foothills of my soul.
"You may be homeless someday
homeless
cold
forgotten."

Premium Member Uprush

"Give me coffee and no one gets hurt"   Jim Davis's Garfield, the cat


I just woke up; it’s coffee time.
I’ve craved strong brew for fifty years.
With flavored creamer—Umm, sublime!
I just woke; it’s coffee time.
I’d lose my rhythm and my rhyme
without this serum that endears.
I just woke up; it’s coffee time.
I’ve craved strong brew for fifty years.



November 1, 2022

for the Writing Challenge--Unburden a "U" Word--Poetry Contest   Placed 2nd

Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
Form: Triolet

Love Is Another Thing

Love Is Another Thing

Sitting at the table
spinning the creamer 
running her fingers through sugar
the kids spilled at supper, Sue

suddenly says, “Don, 
love is another thing.” 
Since love is another thing 
I have to go rent a room, 

leave behind eight years, 
five kids, the echoes of me
raging at noon on the phone, 
raging at night, the mist

of whose fallout ate her skin, 
ate her bones, left her a kitten 
crying high in an oak
let me free, let me free 

Donal Mahoney

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