Somewhere, a computer buzzes
Mechanical ignorances in spite
Of matriarchal indulgences,
Pretty glasses preceding ugly
Attacks upon the commercial
Disaster, a master of stirring
Deep loathing for all the many
Morning misers, dawning dreads.
Coffee in cavalry, busy bayonets
Surrender to social sabres, and
Afternoon is upon them again.

Sometimes, sound sin married
Found fortitude, a strength no
Sunday sermon could abide
Within the symphonies of the
Damned, saved holy grace sighs
Sweetly at such a thought, but
Untouched dust gathers touched
Tomes quicker than the cries of
Hellish kindles to fresh sinners,
And Dante once again dies to destitute days of afternoon aids.

Somehow, even the harmonies of
Heresy, all ablaze and all drowning,
Put away the playings of patriarchal
Palaces in retrograde rendering to
Something louder than the mean
Mechanics threatening the worker,
And a faith demanding force that
Brings Olympus to Athens, Athens
To ash, for there is nothing more
Demanding than the turning
Trebuchet of afternoon antics.
Perhaps I shall make changes to this when I am not so tired, but enjoy this late night writing.
mid saturday morning
drowning in coffee
lost in thought
alone again
Here a creature lurks below
In shadows of evergreen
Constantly surrounded
By trees, rocks, and green

This creature lives in solitude
As below the sky it thrives
It grows in height and grows in age
It grows in antler size
But most of all it grows up inside
As it grows with morning dew

This creature is no antelope
Or moose of the great up north
It simply is a caribou
A traveler of abroad

The caribou is in the green
It has aged an awful lot
So in the green it finds a tree
And its antlers it will shed

Here is a creature in the Green
The green of forest groves
It lives in peace and eats its cloves
As in the forest it grows

This creature grows tall and strong
As is grazes on the grass
It lurks below the shadows
As forever it will last

Unoticed by most who pass on by
Unseen by those you don't care
So lurking in the deep dark green
A lonely life it will share
I was,inspired,ro write this poem while,at caribou, meeting up with a friend.
Aaina khan Jun 21
Always I unliked the Taste of Coffee.
Due to the Bitterness that comes with It
Until,I added more Sugar to it,to Override the bitterness,
And now it was Sweet Enough for Me.

LIfe, Well life is like a Cup of Coffee.
With lot of Problems in it, making it bitter
So Dont Hate your Life or Lose Hope.
Just Add some Sugar in your Life in the form of Love from the people who love you,
In the form of those laughs with your friends,
In the form of things that make you smile.
And no matter What,Always Stay Positive.
It won't make the Problems Disappear.
But It will definitely give you the Strength To
"Walk the extra Mile with a Smile:)"
I still don't love coffee so much but yess i dont hate it anymore.
I never doubt when I close
my eyes that I'll awaken
               to those eyes shut
waiting for the words
                          "I love you"

That cheeky smile yawning,
        stretching into a new morning.
And your first words are
Her first love, then me.

I never wish the days away,
   but I look forward to opening
my eyes after every sunset.
   for when the morning
      awakens I see you before my sight
Lily 6d
I think of you whenever
I pass a donut shop.
I see you making coffee
And hovering over the dozen,
Making a game out of picking a donut.
I think of you whenever
I put up Christmas lights.
I see you in front of the church,
Stringing lights on the cross with
The agility of someone half your age.
I think of you whenever
I sit in Bible class.
I see you with your legs
Sprawled out on the pew,
Asking great questions and
Leading thoughtful discussions.
I think of you whenever
I see your grandchildren
Running around in the sun,
Enjoying the life that you gave them.
I think of you whenever
I think of heaven, and I know
That’s where you are, having
Coffee and donuts up in heaven
With your Maker.
Written in memory of my friend Pat, who recently suffered a fatal heart attack.
When the moon sets,
And the eyes of the world open,
I watch as true innocence dies,
And beauty awakens
In the form of smoke
And steam
Dancing with one another
Before fading
Into the endless ocean of
Dreams and clouds
About now she is having her first cup
in her java ritual of waking up
starting the day by feeding the birds
who swoop too eat and hear her words.

St. Francis is smiling up there
seeing her quiet presence and care
presence to what is real
in the moment and what it reveals.

The creator is in his or her creatures
in shape, contour and natural features.
I don’t need TV, booze, caffeine
or any other fix to intervene.

And it is good to have friends who are kind
who help the helpless and the blind
who feed birds and spirits of the down
not looking for applause or renown.

Knowing and loving and being there
for others, taking time to care.
Having friends like this - a treasure
impossible to repay or measure.

So when I’m tempted to medicate
in any fashion, let me meditate
or be present to friends or birds in flight,
let me abide in their darkness and their light.

Written 07/08/2018
Dedicated to my friend and fellow poet, Elizabeth Hobbs.
Ron Gavalik Jul 5
A young writer
sat in my regular chair
inside the bookstore cafe.
He banged at the keys of his typer,
angry and without mercy.
Once he drained his coffee cup
the writer kept sucking at the rim
for a few remaining drops.
After staring blankly at the wall
for several minutes, the writer packed up
his supplies into a ratty backpack,
and walked out of the joint.
Finally, I figured, my chair had enough
of the games. It felt my presence
nearby and thus decided
we had sins to paint.

-Ron Gavalik
If you dig my work, please visit my Patreon.
Aly Jul 2
I’m partial to sleep,
but there’s something romantic
about coffee.
The way its steam
mists my glasses,
mug muggy,
a warming clemency
to the night worn
sand still stuck in the facets
of tired eyes.
Oh daily savior,
mighty on high.
Some opinions
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