Coffee. Wonderful coffee. I cherish it so highly that I wrote two separate (mediocre) poems about it in one year.
© copyright September 18, 2003
If nothing else should come my way
Worth mentioning in rhyme today,
At least the coffee in my cup
Gave me some cheer, and woke me up.
If, when I get to work today,
My tasks fill me with some dismay,
I will remember (as I should)
The coffee that I drank was good!
The experts say, “Give up caffeine.”
Such a proposal is obscene!
When I drink coffee before dawn,
It gives me reason to go on.
Life's little pleasures are the best
And help us, as we meet each test.
Thank God for each day I wake up...
And for the coffee in my cup!
(c) copyright May 22, 2003
Who figured out you could make a brew
To cheer you so, when the day is new?
Who, in Africa, munched a bean
And felt effects of the drug, caffeine?
I’ve read that a man was herding sheep
That ate the berries, then couldn't sleep.
Then monks found out they'd stay awake
If they took a little "coffee break".
Turks were the first to brew the drink
That cheered the heart, and helped them think.
Then Arabs took it for their own:
Its taste and powers became world-known.
Here's to coffee, much maligned...
But a boon to man- (and woman-) kind.
When it's hard to rise and greet the dawn,
My cup of coffee takes me on.