Thursday, September 29, 2016

Happy National Coffee Day (2016)

"Java & Keats"  Original Photo Manipulation Art


I love coffee.  Of course, I drink it every day.  Every.Single.Day.  Yet, I wasn't ever quite fully aware of just how much of a mainstay that coffee (just as poetry) is in my life.  I think I incorporate coffee into my artwork almost as often as I do with my writing.

I wrote the following poem for the weekly Poetry Pantry.  

However, in celebration of National Poetry Month, I've also included some additional photos and links.  So pour yourself a cup and enjoy! 


"Another Cup of Java"

I'm a mid-morning
concoction
of last night's dreams
and Arabic black bean.

You are conversing
with napkins, keeping plight
with the wrinkly-edged leaves
of Fall's new tablecloth.

Everyone's speaking
but I'm too busy
drinking (coffee).

-Stacy Lynn Mar-





The java has
Turned my brain
Into skittish text,
Uncomprehensible.


"I"m a slow motion accident lost in coffee-

rings and finger-prints..."

-Frou Frou-



She’s a 6am fray of fleece slippers, unraveling.  She wears coffee-stains on the left shoulder of her shirt like a metaphorical holster.  Coffee-black and pen poised, words have been haunting her all night.  Syllable by rank, impulsive syllable and thrashed from slumber, they summon her to the click-click of her pen-drip no matter a Wednesday or Sunday. 



A Mocha Iced For Everyday


She always had an appetite for coffee, house blend was her favorite.  A morning cup meant bliss, but, really she'd drink it all day long.  She would enter every cafe she passed, flamboyantly flashing her silver rings and the jangly doo-dads of her bracelets.  She loved the sound of the percolator, a whistling teapot, liquid creamer dripping.





The ice-clink of her coffee calls for drink as she bends her head, a silent prayer to Kerouac and Ginsberg. 

She sits center-seat,
Mess of café-talk and words;
World outside the world.




“I don't know where my ideas come from. I will admit, however, that one key ingredient is caffeine. I get a couple cups of coffee into me and weird things just start to happen.” 
― Gary Larson




She walks slowly,
Feet a leisurely echo
Amidst the earthquake shuffle
Of a morning commute,
She wears her raincoat
Like the robe of Christ,
Coffee stains dangling
Toward her fingers,
early winter wind whipping
A knitted scarf across her face,
Tickling her throat like
The bitter taste of chocolate.


It's already getting chilly here in Kentucky.  Not complaining, though, I love me some Fall weather!



She spills the coffee of herself
All over the room
Like a stubborn stain.




I am sun-bleached book covers,
Blank journal pages and
Colorful magazine clippings
Glued across a notebook at random.
I am insatiable of words and sugar,
Oatmeal and black coffee,




...have consumed my share
Of cappuccinos in village
Coffee shops, dazzled by
The dance of book dust
Amidst candlelight and
Starched linen in fine restaurants
Before driving the evening
Through a fading post-storm twilight...





Inside this room, it’s always evening,
there’s always coffee
On the stove, familiar as old lips.



Night feels like a wet beach towel
Across the back patio, umbrella swimming
The atmosphere like a ghost coming home,
My house smelling of coffee,
Microwave-roasted, and still sublime.
The cinnamon and brown-sugar of a
Sweet roll, my gift offering
To the God of my empty pages.



She bought imported coffee
Stored in fancy porcelain pots
For the unused cupboards,
Filled her desk drawer
With empty notebooks,
Their covers adorned of sheepskin,
And lit candles along the
Edge of a corner stand,
A constellation all her own.



Chestnuts and yogurt
With a side of black coffee,
Street-lights and high-rise windows
Winking like stranded supernovas,







And the coffee-stained pages
We exchange as if sharing secrets:



Coffee, brown mother
Of my daydreams,
She keeps me from my sleep.



My heart full of beach-glow.
I fed it with coffee and cake,
A wormhole void of sacred touch,
Until one day it left me



12 comments:

  1. Wow!! happy Sunday; that was a lot of coffee

    much love...

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  2. What a fun post! I especially like the 6 a.m. fray of fleece slippers, unraveling. LOL. I relate! So nice to see you in the Pantry, Stacy! How've you been?

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    1. hi sherry! i actually moved, lost access to my google account/blogs...finally got resettled and fixed things. i've missed all my fellow poets at the blogosphere! :) i read a lot of books during my absence, though. happy to see you!!!

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  3. That was quite a collection, Stacy! I too enjoy my coffee, but probably not quite as much as you do. Wonderful collection of photos and verse. I am REALLY glad to see you here.

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    1. hello mary! i have missed the pantry and all the creative people. you guys feel like old friends. :) i was away for four months...i relocated but am glad to be back.

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  4. of last night's dreams
    and Arabic black bean.
    ...that's fantastic!

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  5. hmmm...coffeelicious..simply had to love...so nice to see you here Stacy :)

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  6. Oh I love coffee too... you would love Sweden, we are never far from coffee here.. I have such a passion that I for a while roasted all my coffee myself... but no longer alas. Love the thought of being too busy drinking coffee...

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  7. You elevate the humble cup of coffee into an elixir of life.

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  8. Wow. This was fun to read, even though I am not a coffee drinker. You almost made me wish I were!

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  9. interesting how a cup of coffee will but use one's lips to sip and although the taste is wonderful and the affects are hyper, the most important part is that the lips are busy thus the ears can listen and the eyes can see while the nose smells the waft and the taste buds are pleasured. gracias

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  10. Coffee is essential to my life too! I love your celebrations of it.

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Thank you for taking the time to comment, it is so appreciated. Your thoughts and critiques are always welcome! I will be by to visit your blog soon!