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Posts Tagged ‘poem’

Ode to Coffee

I was bored awhile back and in the mood for coffee. I decided to write a poem about it, it was just something little and fun to do. I don’t usually write rhyming poems but it felt right in this case. Also, I haven’t messed with it all so some parts are a little meh.

 

Oh coffee, so black and bitter.

How do you satisfy my inner

artistic craving for energy

So entirely perfectly?

Without sugar and without cream,

You cannot fulfill my coffee dream.

I need you fattened up with spice,

Thickened with flavor is always nice.

I like to drink you cold or hot,

Sometimes blended, sometimes not.

Iced is good, but I’ll always take

Any combo, as long as you’re not fake.

You have to be ground and brewed,

No instant packets of grainy glue.

I need you every day to wake,

Without you, coffee, my head will ache.

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-For Laura Jean Sluder

My mother had a child a year before me. She was full-term and died the day she was due. Growing up, I often pretended that she was with me. When I was 18, I wrote a poem about her.

1.

My breath escapes my chest too quickly

For me to keep up. Pillows of clouds

press on me, pushing me closer. I am only seven.

I wish for time to undo the truth.

She was an infant,

Hardly plucked from the womb

and buried already.

The grass expands all around me,

stick straight,

like a fringe wall, and I talk to the sky.

Our private playground.

 

2.

I grew up the way life intends.

She grew up with me, but she’d never know.

I’m 18 now, I visit her grave

On her birthday. All around us; thick,

thick rosebushes bloomed,

spreading their petals like morose lyrics.

These are our protectors.

Her grave is flawless.

I lay flowers on the petite marble square.

She should be eating cake today.

She should be doing many things today.

The sky called to me in a silent song.

Today was her birthday,

but she would never know.

 

3.

It is still up there, our private playground.

It is still attached to a wisp

of a cloud, floating, floating.

Sometimes I can see above the swings,

Two little girls separated

before they even knew

one another.

Still, the vacancy is there,

clapping in my ears.

The stars give her an ethereal

body and suddenly the sky seems so painless.

She would be beautiful tonight.

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