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Dog Years Feb 2017
I'll have a large coffee please.
Give it to me black,
give it to me bitter.
Let the beans do their thing
let the coffee keep it's zing.
No need to make it sweeter,
I want
what most people consider
a one hitter quitter.
Unadulterated,
unaltered,
night colored coffee at it's best.
I want to feel my heart beat out of my chest,­
stay up all night long
with the taste of the earth on the tip of my tongue­
I want  it darker,
I want it bolder.
Flavor stays long,
the coffee bites strong.
Do not **** my coffee
with sugar and spice
or anything nice.
You sweet-toothed zombie.
Haven't you heard?
Truth be told,
when it comes to coffee...
fortune flavors the bold.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
I most certainly did know Joe
He was my friend you know.
I knew him for a decade or so.
I always enjoyed the Joe Show.

Joe was rather different,
Sometimes even diffident.
He got in some predicaments,
But I was his instrument.

I called it the Joe Show because
Joe was sort of like Santa Claus.
When he came into a room
He would disspell all the gloom.

It was hard to outshine Joe;
The coolest guy you could know.
He was the best of friends, so
I should have told you, Joe don’t go
But I was clueless, I didn’t know.

All of the good times we once knew
All of the silliness we went through.
So many memories of me and you.
Who can predict what fate will do?

Joe made me feel special,
Like I was living in a serial.
He was usually amenable.
Sometimes ministerial.

Now I have no more time to go
I never told you I’d miss you so.
I just couldn’t because I didn’t know.
I never got to tell you, Joe don’t go.
Alan W Jankowski Feb 2016
She’s hot and wet when she greets me in the morning,
I know of no better way to wake up.
And when I need her she is always there,
She fills my loving cup.

It is an affair that has been going on for years,
And she will continue to comfort when I’m old.
When I am down she perks me up,
She warms me when I am cold.

Dark and bold she comes to me,
More beautiful than any sunrise.
Like a gypsy with her magic charms,
She has the power to open tired eyes.

Though some folks may criticize her,
Pointing out her mother’s a Columbian nut.
And yes, those South Americans are a bit hot-blooded,
But I just smile and say “So what?”

For coffee and I are partners in life,
From her I will never stray.
And should anyone try to get between us,
They will surely rue the day.

10-01-15.
I believe that more than a few here can relate to this one...
SøułSurvivør Jan 2016
Thought I'd have a cuppa
to assuage my carnal thirst
I didn't know what I should drink
who I should have first

I thought of my friend Jack
Daniels to his friends
Life of the drunken party...
But it's only 9am

Then I thought of Harvey
who'd come in from the coast
But i really do not like him
'coz he's a milquetoast

Ah! I know who's perfect!
Tho I could be wrong
But he's tall, dark n handsome!
So very hot and strong!

He's uplifting! RICH!
He makes my heartstrings tug
He is bold yet mellow...
... and that good lookin' MUG!

Yes. I think I'll try him
he's got get up and go
He's the deep and "brew"ding type

he's my cuppa joe!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/23/2016
For a friend... to liven up her day!
Timothy Yan, that was his name
I miss him, still, 71 years later
I don't know if he's alive now
Nor, really did I know then in 1942
We were kids, he was 11 and now
would be 82 or 83
I don't know if he'd remember me
But, I remember him
and will forever
He was Canadian
He was my best friend
His family was Japanese
We'd come from Ontario, Burlington
Work brought dad west
So, we settled in a suburb of Vancouver
Tim's family had been here for a few years
There weren't a lot of Japanese in Canada
He was the first one I saw
We didn't have any in Burlington
So as I know
We lived on the same street
Went to the same school
He was Canadian
We played baseball, road hockey
football, we were brothers
blood brothers, we were a team
We moved west in 1938
I met him that fall in school
We were instant friends
The day I saw that St. Louis Cardinal hat
stuck in his pocket, all rolled up
He'd be Stan The Man, I'd be Red Russer
He was Syl Apps, I was Sam LoPresti
I was Turk Broda, he was anyone he wanted to be
We were both Joe Di Maggio
We were brothers
I remember the noise first
Great big Army trucks,
Olive green
All up the street
Not just at the Yan place
The Yokishuris, Wans, and Timmy's Aunt too
Soldiers, loading the trucks
We weren't allowed out to see
Notices had been posted though the door
We could only watch and wonder
They were being moved
They scared the powers that be
Little Japanese families
Many born here
Scared the powers of  King in Ottawa
And they had to be moved
Inland, to the Okanagan Valley
To Camps, in Canada, their country, Camps
Canada was at war
With it's own people
With 11 year old Timothy Yan
Ever since Pearl Harbour
Ottawa got scared
Japanese fishermen in the west
Japanese fighter planes from the east
There had to be spies in British Columbia
Tim Yan was apparently one of them
They were told their property was safe
All their goods in storage
They were lied to
A month after they left
The auctioneers came in
Everything was sold
Everything...
I hope he kept that hat
Dad bought what he could
So did other neighbours
I still have the boxes
Never opened
Waiting for the Yans,
I miss Joe DiMaggio
I didn't understand it then
And I don't now
My teachers couldn't explain it
My minister said it was the best
That didn' t help either
What best?
Who decided what was best?
Best for who?
It wasn't best for me, or Tim
Nobody asked us
He was just gone
I spent years looking for him
He never came back after the war
They were moved further east
They were sent to Japan
He was from Canada
Why would they send him to Japan
He was gonna be the first Japanese big leaguer
I hope he made it
I grew up and became a lawyer
A citizenship lawyer
This was not going to happen on my watch
To anyone again
Not while I was around
I miss him
He went to war
And never fired a shot
He went to war
And never knew why...
Ottar Feb 2015
tanked, no tide
fins fiddle, quiver so
to stay still and float,
territorial
fish bowl acre,
feeding frenzy for
one,
plastic plants placed
on rocks ranging in the round with rainbow
hues,
with unattractive algae, be-
ginning to creep up the glass
of once was a clear quartz cookie
jar, Joe is contained,
             no complaints,
he gets three free meals a day,
and is right now hearing the strains
of Cello Suites one through six,
light shining
into his ocean tide
pool,
waiting on me for his last
feeding of the day, then darkness
will fall and the false moonlight
will let him him be to play
or sleep...not knowing his
body of water is not the only
one!
Sabbathius Jan 2015
I've read some of your encouraging words
Like the music of a thousand pretty songbirds
They helped me making it through the day
My troubles and worries, they swiftly cast away

You've stopped the bleeding of my heart
With that truly marvelous written art
I beseech you to never stop writing
To keep hope in all our hearts lighting
This is my take on the latest challenge from Mr. Joe Cole, just writing to a friend :D
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1035793/this-is-just-a-bit-different/
Ezra Nov 2014
Joe's father died one day,
Like most, he left loose ends untied,
So, like some, Joe went to see a fortune-teller.

She said, go to the graveyard,

Knock some ashes off the mausoleum.

So Joe went and made cinders fly,
He looked in the distance, out-of-focus,
All he could see was his father,

Then the wind blew back,
And the embers swooped in his eyes,
Joe was blind.

*Was Joe happy, or was he sad?
Matthew Harlovic Nov 2014
If independence is intended
for the masses is the Average Joe
as abnormal as the status quo?

© Matthew Harlovic
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