Sip Poems - Poems about Sip

I drank coffee from your cup— still warm where your mouth had been. The rim held the print of your lower lip. Now I taste rust on the edge of every spoon, how your fingers drummed our kitchen counter, restless. In checkout lines I hear your laugh—unique, familiar. I turn to see a stranger buying oranges nearby. For a fleeting moment, I forget you're not here. Time moves like...

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In a city of fog and summerless light, London hums softly, but nothing feels right. Years have withered, your name still flows Mithila, a whisper the morning wind knows. We never danced in moonlit embrace, Nor traced our fingers across time or space. But the dots were sent… three soft ellipses… Spoke louder than touches or lover’s kisses. I heard you, without words,...

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Celebration begins, Charcuterie boards and Chilled bottles of champagne. Chilled champagne poured, served in Coupe, flute, tulip glasses, Creates bubbles and fizz. Cheers, raise glasses and sip. ...

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Put a little cardamom in it. Spice it up! Cloves are great for health. Add that in too! A pinch of cinnamon. Wow, what a robust flavor! Don’t forget Ginger! Peel and feel the texture. Drop it in! Pitch black tea leaves. It leaves you with a strong, but bitter sensation. Hear those bubbles sing and dance while boiling, Steam shoots up in the air out of...

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Like a dried-up fountain, I sip from my shadows, Dusty memories, like forgotten books on shelves of dreams, I swallow my existence, like a sea of silence, And let it flow, spread, dissolve into verses. I would like to open my heart, to sprinkle my blood On the white paper, to write with the venom of melancholy And to see how...

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Betrayed by love, I sip the bitter nectar you provide, A chalice transfigured from black ink, your verse a river, infernal. The burn grows in my throat, no choice do I have, I cannot flee, Each gulp slowly tears from me a sigh, a prayer in a soft decree. Do you watch as my dry lips trace the hourglass...

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QUAFF OR SIP In days of old one drank from a flagon Some were even embossed with a dragon Yet more recently, mugs then emerged And demand for matching items surged Whether in tin, porcelain, or plain china Some potteries’ items could not be finer Later, tea drinkers in the Victorian era Affected, bought cups that were dearer Like doll house items, cups got...

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Sheer mere pure simple I feel that my solely only Perceptive beloved read me...

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I need to keep sipping. Water, and it needs to touch my tongue first. So that I can feel the water flowing inside me. Which brings life to my fingers and toes. As if the water is blood within me. And cools the numbness that is normally what flows through my veins. Sometimes, I need coffee. We all need coffee sometimes. In...

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Eyes that have alluring Shine, There intoxicating be filled with Wine , Those crimson marks on the glass..; which the lips touched.... felt like a sip of kiss | @brokenangel03...

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Right now I'm struggling and my heart is hurt I'm trying to find a way to get my scars to reverse I'll pour a glass of brandy to calm my nerves Will it make me feel better or will it disregard my worth? As I pour you into the glass I'm hoping you make me feel better...

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For such a large intimidating dude, he has a dainty sip. We were tiptoeing around him, hoping none of us would slip. He is a bruiser of a bear, probably weighs eight hundred and two. He’s been nursing that martini for an hour whispered my cousin Sue....

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i sip those coffee irises which beckon my core sans a resounding wave or bawdy utterance the strong, robust urge a breathless yearning i stir that drink with a flirtatious cream i lean into his cup the grind of healthy soil a tasty, deep, romantic bean those eyes ~ my twinge a loving cup pours into every kiss the slide of lips the palming caress oh how those eyes dance in throes the...

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A love story in an Andalusian grove that belongs now as a last look at a cat-scan. Beneath that olive bower, she sips a glass of La Rioja Alta. He looks at the scan. He keeps looking at the scan hoping to see vineyards. The fruit he sees is dark and the vine pale. He raises a last glass of wine to her....

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Our gossipy lips Have a shutting zip: The flying words we quip We can their wings clip And the speeches we hasten On some muteness fasten … Come the killing desire to gossip Find some diverting juice to sip Or restraining wisdom grip, So that our tongues wouldn’t slip. Our lips Gossips richly moisten, As listeners’ eyes fully glisten: But victims empower to raise hell By hundred times...

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