Learn more about other poetry terms

Rain pours, the dogs sleep, and Pandora shuffles my music. From a mason jar I drink my tea. Weather reflects one's mood. Loneliness, longing, insatiable "hunger" and depression burn within; my heart roasting.
I am, with out a doubt, a different kind of morning person. I can guzzle 6 cups of coffee and never wake up, But when you present me with valid brew I undoubtable connect the theme of the day, To you.
I tiptoed on the patio to keep my feet warm I unfolded my book and began to read Just as I spotted a red leaf in the tree It's a metaphor, you see That one little leaf I tucked my knees into my chest
The white, Aromatic, Dry, tea packet Is consumed by the boiling water in my mug. It slowly creeps up Along the bottom The corners
I am a politically conscientious, theater-obsessed English nut, An extrovert with anxiety and an unquenchable taste for scary books and movies,
I had the app for the sole purpose of free coffee, Free coffee being the drinks boys would buy for me. Yet, when you messaged me the name of your favorite band,
A plain white wrapper Tightly packed buds  The Sweet and Creamy essence Protrude the packaging and Caress my nose Slowly but surely,The brewer pries apart the leaves.Some points give away easily  But others take more care and PokingTo come apart.A
great uncle:I would like tothank you forTea. It is asimpleitem, yetcomplex in mymind,Tea.
I have run from fearsFor too many yearsNot knowing if you careBut say that, I don’t dare With lies people spit outI am beginning to doubtI don’t know what to doWhen the hurt seeps through
Inside me is a  boiling brass kettle screaming on a hot stove.  As if a frantic teapot Could be contained  without spilling over.  As if the shrill cry of a  steaming pot bawling 
Soft blankets hug me in their vice grip. I have no desire to leave my bed; our home. Only one thing can grasp me with her loving little hands and convince me to rise: Lady Grey.
Some like you hot, others cold,  Either way your taste is bold.  I love the warmth in my hands and the hint of honey I taste.  So sweet and warm with flavors galore, not a drop of tea I would waste.  
My alarm goes off The sweet sound of the ukulele jingle wakes me from my slumber As I embrace my gray plush blanket, I hit ‘dismiss’ and consider remaining in the warm, cozy fuzz of blissful sleep
Listen to that pitter-patter a chill rain hits my window sill. I sit here criss-cross applesauce drowning my stress as the steam from my tea brushes against my face. Here I am happy,
Simplicity embarks my veins A voyage of bittersweet delicacy Entrapped in the fragile estate of a porcelain cup There I take a sip
The axis of the world spins,  and with that goes the heat of the summer. My time of happiness has finally come. Trees begin to shed their coats, and with that animals grow new ones.
Tea Day   Look at her in pretty dress cream bright drapery in her teeny waist with red flowers blending in the papery.   Look at her in pretty hat, red as her lips
Raising sons full of ire, Restraint is no longer their friend. With news, IT builds a fire. In only destruction it will end.   You did this, you did that, Three hundred years of accusation.
Lipstick on the lisp, from taking sweet sips of tea. Unwinding after a long day even making it is therapeutic boil the water, steep the tea,
I drink it to rememberthe night that we first met,for the many nights there after,for the nights you'll soon forget. Remembrance of there was,but more importantly what might have been,will never stopped these fantasiesfrom running in my head  You
Sweet Tea Better than coffee That smooth taste With a honey color That ensares my taste buds Tea brewed so fresh That I just can't resist Drinking every drop  Of that ice cold sweet tea
My world spins for you Your love I can't comprehend I won't challenge it   It's not that easy To find devotion like this But yet here you are   All the work you do
The warmth you engulf me in. The floral scents as they fill the air. Boiling in the that pot made of tin with your rising steam, such beauty and fair.   The heart rises up.
I could live without, but I don't want to. I couldn't start my day right, and my nights wouldn't be the same. The heat wouldn't run through my veins, not through me at all. Life would drag,
She took her tea with sugar this timeand waited for him to call.The gate made creakings on its hingesbut he made no sound at all.
to drink is good; good for the soul, though only if, you lack self control.   imagine this; picture it quick; you've drunk until you're not quite sick,  
Have you ever fallen in love with a simple routine? Waking up to the warm glow of the sun, Slipping out of bed with a whisper and a yawn, Feet touching the lovely cool floor.   It’s such a simple act,
(2/13/14 3:50 P.M)   The sun froze
I am a teapot That can never stop pouring And never run out   I pour my dreams I pour my thoughts I pour my memories   But where do I put them...?  
Zimmerman shot the gun before he could think.
you're warm
rose scented tea wafting from the cup placed so gently on the maple table top porcelain pot and sloping sides of a gentry type delicate and prim the amber brown and tinted gold
Sitting in a room in the dark with the shades up quietly absorbing the vibrations gently rocking the penthouse, I am still.   Basking in the intermittent, fleeting flashes of fluorescent 
The most mundane things are perfect Like the making of tea. Dead flower crumple of the tea bag Scoop the sugar in with the tink-tink of the spoon. Just add water, Grains dissolving
Sacrifice a pleasant morning  For a fucked up night? I think no but it's nice to have  your share of  afternoon delights strictly Starland- I don't get the concept of 
The time I  had a fever of a hundred-and-three, was when Ariel went out to sea. I was discussing with Prince Eric and Ursula about tea. The Mad Hatter's party was fun as can be, but the only thing horrid was the tea.
The time I  had a fever of a hundred-and-three, was when Ariel went out to sea. I was discussing with Prince Eric and Ursula about tea. The Mad Hatter's party was fun as could be, but the only thing horrid was the tea.
The time I  had a fever of a hundred-and-three, was when Ariel went out to sea. I was discussing with Prince Eric and Ursula about tea. The Mad Hatter's party was fun as could be, but the only thing horrid was the tea.
The time I had a fever of a hundred-and-three, was when Ariel went out to sea.                                     I was discussing with Prince Eric and Ursula about tea                                                                          The
The crinkle of opening the packet sounds also of a kettle crying to be turned off Hot water poured releases sweet fragrances that erase any remaining remnant of sleep
My friends Sit at the checker top table Play chess while sipping tea Intent on winning Our culture whispers down our spine: that is the goal.
A hug in a cup, The steam rises, Soothes my soul, Calms my fears which never leave As I hope for tomorrow, My lips at the brim, The warmth rushes and hydrates, Replenishing the comfort,
The tea is piping hot and smells of spice, the soft aroma of forests distant and fields, bristling in the morning wind. A sip would fasten to your tongue and settle there, in tiny cottages,
Subscribe to tea