"coffeemaker" poems - Hello Poetry

A black and white film About an old man and his dog. There is no dialogue. Just ambient sounds - First, of the alarm clock’s monotonous song. Followed by an abrupt cutting silence as his hand slams down on the snooze button Then, the sound of a coffeemaker spitting and burbling. The coffee, pouring into a chipped mug. Sugar, then milk, the clink of the spoon against the ceramic as he stirs the long first sip As the man looks curiously at something on the fridge, just out of frame. A bag of dogfood opening. hard kibble ringing against the metal dish. The dog grumbling - impatiently waiting. Tupperware opening The hum of a microwave, and the beep. Last night’s stew poured into a bowl the rest, over the kibble. The closed caption reads: [Enthusiastic, sloppy eating noises] The sound of water running as the bowls are scrubbed clean. The door closing as the two leave for their morning walk. The old man and the dog are now sitting on a park bench. The grass, still wet from the morning dew. There is a beautiful sunrise over the nearby lake. The camera pulls away, as music overtakes the diegetic sounds of nearby parkgoers, birds and runners, and teens playing hooky. The camera cuts back to for a beat to the kitchen in the empty house. The camera zooms in on a weathered and well loved piece of paper held up by a rainbow magnet on the refrigerator door. Fade to a black screen, with white letters: Fin.

0

Sep 12, 2022

Sep 12, 2022 at 9:43 PM UTC

jm-romig-1

Picture This

A black and white film About an old man and his dog. There is no dialogue. Just ambient sounds - First, of the alarm clock’s monotonous song. Followed by an abrupt cutting silence as his hand slams down on the snooze button Then, the sound of a coffeemaker spitting and burbling. The coffee, pouring into a chipped mug. Sugar, then milk, the clink of the spoon against the ceramic as he stirs the long first sip As the man looks curiously at something on the fridge, just out of frame. A bag of dogfood opening. hard kibble ringing against the metal dish. The dog grumbling - impatiently waiting. Tupperware opening The hum of a microwave, and the beep. Last night’s stew poured into a bowl the rest, over the kibble. The closed caption reads: [Enthusiastic, sloppy eating noises] The sound of water running as the bowls are scrubbed clean. The door closing as the two leave for their morning walk. The old man and the dog are now sitting on a park bench. The grass, still wet from the morning dew. There is a beautiful sunrise over the nearby lake. The camera pulls away, as music overtakes the diegetic sounds of nearby parkgoers, birds and runners, and teens playing hooky. The camera cuts back to for a beat to the kitchen in the empty house. The camera zooms in on a weathered and well loved piece of paper held up by a rainbow magnet on the refrigerator door. Fade to a black screen, with white letters: Fin.

51

Sit, sneak a look at what’s left of nothing, a tree alone, a blur of nimbus and fire above no one, a diminished frequency of fury. Sketch my black coat. Two bucks at the Goodwill, it confides in the dead, celebrates mother with a seance. Ah, do you hear that? The coffeemaker is the Atlantic. It wants to wear hues, to be a limbless body in someone’s dream, gestures with white light, and never sleeps as it studies the moon. Let’s not talk about that anymore. It feels like spiders in my ear canal, yesterday does. Stay a little longer. But don’t look at me. Look at yourself in the mirror, and I will grin back at you—ah, feel that? That’s what it’s like to wake up as Mark Landis.

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Aug 25, 2013

Aug 25, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC

michael-tobias

Forged and Undone

Sit, sneak a look at what’s left of nothing, a tree alone, a blur of nimbus and fire above no one, a diminished frequency of fury. Sketch my black coat. Two bucks at the Goodwill, it confides in the dead, celebrates mother with a seance. Ah, do you hear that? The coffeemaker is the Atlantic. It wants to wear hues, to be a limbless body in someone’s dream, gestures with white light, and never sleeps as it studies the moon. Let’s not talk about that anymore. It feels like spiders in my ear canal, yesterday does. Stay a little longer. But don’t look at me. Look at yourself in the mirror, and I will grin back at you—ah, feel that? That’s what it’s like to wake up as Mark Landis.

18

waking on a summer morn has always made me somewhat sad at least since I've been grown foreboding in the mind and weighty remnants of bizarre dreams coffeemaker fills my morning cup clears my head a bit but as the day matures humidity settles in the air feels thick and heavy seems a struggle for lungs to take it in you can see the heat waving in ripples as it rises in that smoldering heat some are in their element yes it's true some do like it hot not me I don't enjoy "sunbaking" brutal heat is not my friend nor is the sun at least not for long so close I know its rays are more than pale skin will stand and what about the flora unless the heavens bless the earth with frequent soaking rain the heat will be a strain on the plants I dearly love if I remember to water thoroughly when they need they'll stay green and lush but my wallet's green will shrink still summer has its good points and amusing things to do ice cream cones evening drives picnics at the park swimming pools water parks and just the garden hose can help to cool you off backyard cookouts fireworks iced tea and lemonade vacation if you can afford if not stay-cation's the latest thing maybe best part of summer though is what is coming next those cool clear days of autumn to refresh the air renewing mind and body too

0

May 10, 2018

May 10, 2018 at 11:26 PM UTC

WingedPoet

The Dread of Summer

waking on a summer morn has always made me somewhat sad at least since I've been grown foreboding in the mind and weighty remnants of bizarre dreams coffeemaker fills my morning cup clears my head a bit but as the day matures humidity settles in the air feels thick and heavy seems a struggle for lungs to take it in you can see the heat waving in ripples as it rises in that smoldering heat some are in their element yes it's true some do like it hot not me I don't enjoy "sunbaking" brutal heat is not my friend nor is the sun at least not for long so close I know its rays are more than pale skin will stand and what about the flora unless the heavens bless the earth with frequent soaking rain the heat will be a strain on the plants I dearly love if I remember to water thoroughly when they need they'll stay green and lush but my wallet's green will shrink still summer has its good points and amusing things to do ice cream cones evening drives picnics at the park swimming pools water parks and just the garden hose can help to cool you off backyard cookouts fireworks iced tea and lemonade vacation if you can afford if not stay-cation's the latest thing maybe best part of summer though is what is coming next those cool clear days of autumn to refresh the air renewing mind and body too

97

A dim shade blankets the black scratched breakfast table Some gloom hangs over the coffeemaker And death cools down in the oven As the sinking furnace burns beneath Blood breaking vessels Dries on skin like paint Paint the wall again pale as red becomes you dawn And the hardwood stained wine wallow wasted winter Again and again Slurs, apologizing for christmas plans

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Nov 13, 2014

Nov 13, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC

samuel-sprague

Adae

A dim shade blankets the black scratched breakfast table Some gloom hangs over the coffeemaker And death cools down in the oven As the sinking furnace burns beneath Blood breaking vessels Dries on skin like paint Paint the wall again pale as red becomes you dawn And the hardwood stained wine wallow wasted winter Again and again Slurs, apologizing for christmas plans

11

I live in 2300 square feet of dark cold house. there are steel canisters of fresh ground coffee. there is a coffeemaker that is old but working. there is a cedar box full of discount cigars. there is a wooden rack stocked with cheap varietals. there is a media player with hours of blues tunes. there is a desk with pens and reams of lined paper. take those away from me and I will have nothing.

0

Jul 30, 2018

Jul 30, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC

RickAdamsPoetry

all that I own

I live in 2300 square feet of dark cold house. there are steel canisters of fresh ground coffee. there is a coffeemaker that is old but working. there is a cedar box full of discount cigars. there is a wooden rack stocked with cheap varietals. there is a media player with hours of blues tunes. there is a desk with pens and reams of lined paper. take those away from me and I will have nothing.

16