Bookish Coffee Tag- Tuesday Morning Joe!

Good Morning!

I wasn’t tagged by anyone but I recently started following the amazing Stephen @ Stephen Writer  you can also find him on twitter (@Stephen1308). Please check him out. He’s an amazing part of The Write Reads community, all around amazing guy, let alone blogger and he did awesome tag that I told him I’m stealing!

Now that it is fall, coffee season starts (once St. Louis realizes it is fall and stops with the stupid hot 100 degree weather) see I’m not a year round coffee drinker– but definitely a fall/winter coffee drinker and yes one of THOSE pumpkin spice EVERYTHING people.

So with the hopes that this tag might push St. Louis in the right direction before my move to Colorado…

Black Coffee | Name A Series That’s Tough To Get Into But Has Hardcore Fans:

Anyone who has been paying attention knows where this one is going and it isn’t even a series… it is an author and pick any series by said author. Mr. Kristoff… you and I have some reckoning to do. And you all know it isn’t even a matter of him being “hard to get into.” Actually. Now that I think about it? This is another whole post onto itself. Yes. Maybe I will do that post. I’ll see.

But long short of it- it has absolutely NOTHING with not wanting to read it although this whole thing with him dominating my TBR has gotten WAY out of hand AND you all literally mentioning him in EVERY post- sometimes more than once in a post is just- I’m starting to wonder if it is planned… it is becoming like a Hitchcock movie. But I made a promise- the fandom made a choice. And I will stick with it


Peppermint Mocha | Name A Book That Gets More Popular During the Winter or A Festive Time of Year:

Huh. This is a tough one because I’m not sure that there is one, yearly. But I know there are two for this year for sure. Although they might be more fall/late fall. But I’m going to go with them. Because they are both wrapping up two of the most successful series going. Yes I’m side-eying you Left Bank Books…

 

Less than three miles away from me and they can’t give a girl a break? I can sign it in blood that I wouldn’t say a word. You think I would risk the Thunderhead? GOD NO. I FEAR NOTHING. The Thunderhead? ALL THE FEAR.  Cover Reveal of The Toll Post

Hot Chocolate | What Is Your Favourite Children’s Book?

If we are really going to talk about children’s book, than I’m going to go back to when I taught second grade for eight years, which leads me to one book.

Do You Have My Purr

OH MY! How I loved this book- it was a perfect touch-stone text. It can be utilized for teaching sequencing, drawing conclusions and the list goes on and on and on. I had a student once- Dominique- god bless this little girl’s heart… I asked a question to the class during the read aloud that I pretty much asked every year (and mind you the principal was in the room because BUT OF COURSE SHE WAS).

OH! Wait – context:

Little Kitten can’t find her purr! She asks Dog if he has it, but he has only his woof. She asks Cow, but Cow has only her moo. Pig, Duck, Mouse, and the other animals do not have Little Kitten’s purr, either. Does Mommy know where it is?

But of course kitten doesn’t want to listen when mom first tells her at the beginning of the book that her purr will come because it is inside of her…

Me: What do you think about kitten going all over the farm asking if the animals if they have her purr? (Me the “all-knowing” teacher expecting the typical response and feeling oh so confident that my principal is sitting there)

Dominique: I think that mama is crazy.

Me:

Principal:

Me:

Principal: Stares at me

Me: Dominique, what did I read that makes you think that?

Dominique: Seriously, Ms. Crosby. What mother lets her baby out roaming around a huge farm with all those big animals asking for something when her mama knows that she will purr when she’s happy? That isn’t being a good mom. Someone needs to come and take that baby away.

Me:

Me: You know what Dominique? That is excellent thinking. I love how you used the evidence from the text and what you know about the world to make an inference.

Principal:

Dominique: Sits down with a look a supreme satisfaction

Principal: Walks out because she’s got NOTHING.

Double Shot of Espresso | Name A Book That Kept You On the Edge Of Your Seat From Start to Finish:

Oh MY! There are SO SO MANY. We would be here forever and considering the length of the last answer I don’t think that is a good idea. So I’m going to give you two from the Summer Fling. Turn Of The Key Review  Dear Wife Review Q And A with Kimberly Belle

 

Starbucks | Name A Book You See Everywhere:

Nope. Not a book. Calling Mr. Kristoff, Mr. Jay Kristoff. If you could just send me your entire back catalog? That would be fan-fucking-tastic! Thanks! 

Maybe since it is all YOUR faults anyway- you should start a petition!

The Hipster Coffee Shop | Give A Book By An Indie Author A Shout Out:

Does Indie mean they have to be self published? I’m not sure so I’m going with two:

 

Ben Galley and SJ Hartland

Aannnnnnnnnnnnnd the reviews:

19th Bladesman Shadow Sword Series Book 1

Last Seer King Shadow Series Book 2 Author Q and A (SJ Hartland)

The Written (Emaneska Book 1)- Ben Galley

Bonus! They are all really cheap to free in one format or another and The Last Seer King is a read now if you are on NetGalley

Image result for read the book gif

Oops! I Accidentally Ordered Decaf | Name A Book You Were Expecting More Of:

The Gossamer Mage by Julie Czerneda- and although that seemed to be the prevailing thoughts of many, it didn’t make me feel any better about it. Review

The Perfect Blend | Name A Book Or Series That Was Both Bitter And Sweet, But Ultimately Satisfying:

OH FFS- It isn’t even five AM and you are going to do this to me NOW? Because. My. Heart.

Image result for they both die at the end

Chai Tea | Name a Book Or Place Series That Makes You Dream Of Far Off Places

Someday I’m gonna get through a tag without everyone Starking me. But go ahead. Stark away

six of crues

I want to credit this picture but I’ve searched and searched and can’t find who created it. If you know, please tell me.


Earl Grey | Name Your Favourite Classic:

Heh. Oedipus.

Image result for Oedipus Rex

 

The Highwayman
By Alfred Noyes

Part One
I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding, riding-riding. The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber sayV
“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i’ the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.
Part Two
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o’ the tawny sunset, before the rise o’ the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching, marching-marching. King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
“Now keep good watch!” and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say. Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love’s refrain.
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs
ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did
not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him – with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i’ the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.
* * * * * *
X
And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding, Riding-riding. A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding, Riding-riding. The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say

V
“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i’ the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

Part Two
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o’ the tawny sunset, before the rise o’ the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching, marching-marching. King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
“Now keep good watch!” and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say, “Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!”
IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love’s refrain.
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs
ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did
not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him – with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i’ the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.
* * * * * *
X
And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding, riding-riding. A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

 

Tag:

Everyone who wants to have a go at this tag!

 

TALK TO ME ABOUT THIS TAG!

Do you like the tag? Would you do the tag? What would some of your answers be (unless you are going to do it yourself, of course!) What do you think of my answers? Like them? Hate them? Would you add to them or change them?!

21 thoughts on “Bookish Coffee Tag- Tuesday Morning Joe!

  1. fun tag! my hubby is also “one of THOSE pumpkin spice EVERYTHING people.” 🙂

    a totally agree about Kristoff! OMG I can’t

    I got my first Ruth Ware book last week and I’m hoping to make Turn of the Key my second one 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. HAHA! Its funny I was in the grocery store yesterday and there’s pumpkin spice nothing out yet and I was SO confused. I was like in a complete loss… I felt like calling my mom and being like– it is September, right? Did I miss something… even the Christmas creamers were out… but no pumpkin. That’s blaspheme!

      TOTK is just a mess-a-something! Five hours straight I devoured that book! I can’t wait to hear what you think of it!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Would You Rather Book Edition – Siobhan's Novelties

  3. Ooh wow, this is an awesome tag. The Kristoff angst comes even more into context now. Don’t let the hype get to you. I mean, yeah, I only started reading him recently and honestly LOVE HIM, but I think when the time is right, you’ll pick him up haha 😂Loved reading your answers!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It isnt angst lol.. it’s just hysterical to me how much he has permitted the world. I wonder sometimes if everyone sees it. I feel like I see it on so many blogs everyday but I dont know if everyone else does lol

      Liked by 1 person

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