Into bitter molten depths Treacle-dark and aromatic Swirled a creamy linen light Tantalising, limbs ecstatic Weak and trailing, meek and gentle Doomed at first to dark absorption Probing, twirling, infiltrating Spiralling with limp contortion Mild, yet purposeful and sure Edging, blending round the metal Creamily insinuating Gentle letting turmoil settle Till at last a smooth aroma Fills the air and taste invites Stilled to golden caramel The goblet offers pure delights
I can't remember when I didn't write poems but as I've got older, I find they spill into my head, often at inconvenient times of the morning! I use to write them on my way to work, hence the title of my blog, but now I've given up to go trekking around in a campervan with my husband. Plenty of time to reflect on the world, though I don't claim to understand it any better....
Coffee// By: Fareed Ghanem **** Here I am, just a handful of water taken from the last raining season. Since the last Bedouin had poured me into his pot, which had been dyed by sand and smoke, and laid over
Mince Pies and Clotted Cream go together like a dream. Like Jelly and Ice Cream Like Green and Red are Christmas colours Like Crackers go off with a bang Like Christmas lights all shiny and bright Like Carols sung at
They minded their conversation, The ants that came marching in. Extra sugar. A little less cream. The foam from their latte circled their mouths, Disfigured steam still rising from their small cups. A light comfort found after a hard day’s
Sunday, the ‘Holy Day’, declared by the ‘Old Testament’ After the hard work of the universal creation, for six days, Continuously from Monday to Saturday, fulfilling everything, From a ray of light, sea, sky, earth and all living and nonliving