Coffee and Tea

Rain Rain Rain

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Rain, Rain, Rain, come again and again,
In the winter, in the summer and in spring,
Come with joy, fall with happiness and go with sorrow,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.

Rain, Rain, Rain come to relive earth’s pain,
Rain, Rain, Rain come to make nature happy,
Rain, Rain, Rain come to make livings happy,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.

Rain, Rain, Rain don’t go away,
Rain, Rain, Rain i hope you will stay,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.

Vikram Pratap Singh

http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk

rain

Cuppa Coffee Anyone?

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I think it’s time to meet
People from outside my bubble
The loneliness is building inside
My mind is drowning in trouble

Sit in a cozy quiet corner
Fancy it need not be
A cuppa coffee and conversation
Would be enough for me

Pour some in a thermos
We’ll take a walk
Stop and picnic somewhere
Just sit and talk

I don’t like drama
I’m as peaceful as can be
Would you please have a
Cuppa coffee with me?

– Teresa Harr-Pena

If you have a coffee related poem you’d like to share, please do!

http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk

cup of coffee

Did You Know…

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Did you know…

When we think of coffee growers, we tend to think of the traditional countries – Brazil, Sumatra, Indonesia, parts of Central Africa etc.
However, Australia, also has a growing coffee industry!
Coffee farmers in parts of Queensland benefit from their geographical position on the edge of the “coffee belt” to grow quality product, and have done well lately, largely due to the drought in Brazil – which has made buyers look elsewhere, and pushed prices up by as much as 9%!
However, those Aussis who think that they will soon be enjoying a brew of the home gown stuff, no such luck. The vast majority of Australian coffee lands in in Europe.

http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk

coffee beans

Today

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Today

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day

– Billy Collins

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Oh, Coffee!

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“Oh Coffee, you dispel the worries of the Great, you point the way to those who have wandered from the path of knowledge. Coffee is the drink of the friends of God, and of his servants who seek wisdom.

…No one can understand the truth until he drinks of its frothy goodness. Those who condemn coffee as causing man harm are fools in the eyes of God.

Coffee is the common man’s gold, and like gold it brings to every man the feeling of luxury and nobility….Take time in your preparations of coffee and God will be with you and bless you and your table. Where coffee is served there is grace and splendor and friendship and happiness.

All Cares vanish as the coffee cup is raised to the lips. Coffee flows through your body as freely as your life’s blood, refreshing all that it touches: look you at the youth and vigor of those who drink it.

Whoever tastes coffee will forever forswear the liquor of the grape. Oh drink of God’s glory, your purity brings to man only well-being and nobility“

– Sheik Ansari Djezeri Hanball Abd-al-Kadir, 1587

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Christmas Trees

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The city had withdrawn into itself   And left at last the country to the country;   When between whirls of snow not come to lie   And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove   A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,   Yet did in country… fashion in that there   He sat and waited till he drew us out   A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was.   He proved to be the city come again   To look for something it had left behind And could not do without and keep its Christmas.   He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;   My woods—the young fir balsams like a place   Where houses all are churches and have spires.   I hadn’t thought of them as Christmas Trees.   I doubt if I was tempted for a moment   To sell them off their feet to go in cars   And leave the slope behind the house all bare, Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.   I’d hate to have them know it if I was.   Yet more I’d hate to hold my trees except   As others hold theirs or refuse for them,   Beyond the time of profitable growth,   The trial by market everything must come to.   I dallied so much with the thought of selling.   Then whether from mistaken courtesy   And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether   From hope of hearing good of what was mine, I said, “There aren’t enough to be worth while.”   “I could soon tell how many they would cut,   You let me look them over.”
“You could look.   But don’t expect I’m going to let you have them.” Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close   That lop each other of boughs, but not a few   Quite solitary and having equal boughs   All round and round. The latter he nodded “Yes” to,   Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one,   With a buyer’s moderation, “That would do.” I thought so too, but wasn’t there to say so.   We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over,   And came down on the north. He said, “A thousand.”
“A thousand Christmas trees!—at what apiece?”
He felt some need of softening that to me: “A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.”
Then I was certain I had never meant   To let him have them. Never show surprise!   But thirty dollars seemed so small beside   The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents   (For that was all they figured out apiece),   Three cents so small beside the dollar friends   I should be writing to within the hour   Would pay in cities for good trees like those,   Regular vestry-trees whole Sunday Schools   Could hang enough on to pick off enough.   A thousand Christmas trees I didn’t know I had!   Worth three cents more to give away than sell,   As may be shown by a simple calculation.   Too bad I couldn’t lay one in a letter.   I can’t help wishing I could send you one,   In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.
– Robert Frost
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tree

Coffee People

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“Coffee is a lot like people. In many ways, it’s deceiving. The sweetness that you smell as it brews is more often than not a fallacy. The scent of a dark roasted coffee bean promises you rich flavors with hints of chocolate and hazelnut, but if you’re not used to coffee’s deceptiveness, you’re left with a bitter aftertaste dangling at the back of your throat. To those of us who are used to it- we’ve grown a fondness for that bitter taste. It’s complex. It’s teasing. It reminds us that most things in life are not consistently sweet with every sip. One morning, your coffee might brew mild with just a flirtation of nutty undertones, And the next morning, it might be pelting you in the face with those same nuts, leaving little stinging marks with each sip. It’s moody. It’s not easy to perfect. But when you get the perfect brew, it’s rewarding. And that same perfection is not guaranteed tomorrow just because you managed it today.”

― Katana Collins, Soul Stripper

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