Tuesday, March 18, 2014

The Poetry of Coffee

(Disclaimer: Let me state, this is NOT my poem. It is penned by an interesting writer, Carole Holliday. It was a Google random-find, and attached to the picture below. I merely retyped the exact text in this entry so that it could be readable and enjoyed for its creativity and humor)

by Carole Holliday

There is a cult of coffee
I do not understand:
It cannot bail you out of jail
Or even hold your hand.
There are those who belong to it
And love it quite a lot.
They do not care if coffee’s cold
Or if their coffee’s hot.
They love it like one loves a child
I don’t exaggerate
And those who do not share this love
They do not tolerate.
This brown and bitter water
Has them tightly in its thrall
And if their coffee were a god
they’d say I surrender all! 
A day can’t pass without its sip
a glug
a swish
a swallow
Without their coffee in a cup
They feel so lost and hollow.
They ache they moan they twitch they growl
And in their moods most foul
As if an addict hooked on drugs
And lost in depths of sorrow!
And not a judgment do I make
On coffee drinkers here 
For all who walk upon the earth
Obsess on things so queer.
Some are chocolate
Some are booze 
And some are comic books 
So drinkers of a cup of Joe.
They’ll get no dirty looks
And lovers of their java breaks
I promise not to scoff.

Least not before their morning taste.

And then all bets are off! 

No comments:

Post a Comment