A Brief ode To Coffee

A Brief Ode To Coffee

in two cups

I.

I had two cups

and two cups is enough

if not too much

some people say

but I took more;

what if my stomach roared

or I began to slightly

shake,

 

because O

for quite awhile

I was awake.

II.

Silk vanilla hazelnut,
sweeter than a slipper of champagne,
I had two cups.

Two cups were not enough,
you made it plain.
Silk vanilla hazelnut,

one kiss was not enough
to make it plain;
quicker than a slipper of champagne,

we drank the pot
we brewed, grateful in the main
I had two cups.

~April 2015

posted for

National Poetry Month with Magaly Guerrero
 Write a sensual poem dedicated to coffee or tea or to both. 

I was unhappy with my first effort--not very sensual, and a bit dry for one of the loves of my life, delicious hot fresh brewed coffeee, the elixir of Life, so I rewrote a bit of it and made another cup in the cascade form.  I really wish I could tackle something more ambitious but my April beans are running low.

Image: rock coffee 3D abstract wallpaper, via google,    source

Dining In

Dining In

You looked at me across

the brimming glass. I seemed to see

a butterfly on your plate,

a meal on wings in a web too blue to be.

Serve yourself, you said, as sweet

as summer almond on the spur,
for what you've fluttered for

is blooming here.

Nibbling the small absurd
crustaceans of indifference well-assumed,

followed by a toss of  salad words,

fatigued in vinegar and oil to bite and blur,
till appetite on top at last flicked off
the garnish, two soft-curled buds
beside the tart smooth cream;
wine spilled on scarlet linen stays unseen.

Next there came the twist,
main course surprise,

all salt and sauce and judgement over-ruled--
the steam of it rose humid in our eyes;

in the end we had the dish we each would choose--

brief, delicious, light but quite forgettable,
with endearments for dessert, so green
so indigestible.

~March 2015

posted for     real toads

Weekend Challenge: Poeticizing Out

The multi-talented Karin Gustafson (ManicDDaily) asks us to write something inspired by a meal at a restaurant. I have kind of run a bit wide and wild here, but that's where I started.

Top Image: copyright Karin Gustafson,

Used with permission

Footer: Still Life Of Fruit And A Plate of Oysters, by Osias Beert

Public domain via wikiart.org

The Kitchen Mouse

The Kitchen Mouse

You're in my dreams like mice in a kitchen

when the cooking's over, the cook

is sleeping, the stove is cold.

You make a skitter under the fire-crackle,

shadow warm,

at a noise
gone.

I hear you eat through sacks

and wrappings, small brighteyes;

working your delicate bones

behind blue-painted plates,

alive in the crumbs, stark
on the stones, always

hungry.

Everything's spoiled in the morning

where your dirty feet have

danced, but there's no poison

here, no baited iron jaw. Live
and let live, I say, for
in my kitchen I will have
no death.

~September 2013

posted for     real toads

Challenge: It's All About Place

The ever-sharp eye of the multi-talented Margaret Bednar saw some inspirational potential in a series of  exquisite historical miniature room exhibits at the Art Institute of Chicago, and  kindly brought back pictures for us(see link.) She has asked us to write about the kind of place they might be.

Process Note: No actual kitchens were infested in the research for this poem.

Photo by Margaret Bednar,  used with permission.
(To suit my theme, I have cropped and manipulated her original photo for the header here, so blame me not her for that.)

Love Among The Thistles

Love Among the Thistles

Uncover the hours of the furled artichoke;

nautilus leaves hide the prickle they stroke.

Bring the soft brush of locust lips.

Peel the thorns from nape to hips.

Unpuzzle the thistle that lives

in the deep amethyst heart;

soft choke at the stem

where it all comes apart.

 ~October 2012

Posted  for    real toads

Sunday Mini-Challenge: The Quatrain, continued

Kerry asks us to continue to work in the quatrain form, and rattles the cage a bit by introducing two variants from Chinese poetry. I have strung together a mongrel beast of Western rhyme and meter (aabb couplets, then abxb) crossed with the Chinese Jueju form, a counted-word quatrain intended to create a mood, often erotic, where each line of the quatrain is either five words, or seven words. I did one quatrain of each.

Header Image: Artichokes at Campo de Fiori, by stijn, on flick'r

Footer image: Sicilian Violetta Artichoke, by In Praise of Sardines, on flick'r

Shared under a Creative Commons License