Join us throughout the month of FeBREWary 2017 for more coffee poetry
by Emmett Lee Dickinson
(Emily Dickinson's third cousin, twice removed -- at her request)
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By Emily Dickinson:
A long – long Sleep – A famous – Sleep – That makes no show for Morn – By Stretch of Limb – or stir of Lid – An independent One – Was ever idleness like This? Upon a Bank of Stone To bask the Centuries away – Nor once look up – for Noon? |
FEBREWARY 1
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
A long – long Sleep – An intense – Sleep – That makes no love for Morn – With Stretch of Limb – and heavy Lid – An inattentive Me – Thus idleness is like This! Until I Drink my Joe To bask the Wooziness away – And then get up – and Go! |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Without this – there is nought – All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird – Heard opposite the Sea – I could not care – to gain A lesser than the Whole – For did not this include themself – As Seams – include the Ball? I wished a way might be My Heart to subdivide – 'Twould magnify – the Gratitude – And not reduce – the Gold – |
FEBREWARY 2
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Without this – there is nought – All other Drinks be As is the Twitter of a Bird – Heard opposite the Sea – I do not care – to drink A lesser than a Joe – For they do not include caffeine – As Brew – and Espresso! I wish a way might be My Life to drink all day – ‘Twould magnify – my Attitude – And then let loose – my Way – |
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By Emily Dickinson: He outstripped Time with but a Bout, He outstripped Stars and Sun And then, unjaded, challenged God In presence of the Throne. And He and He in mighty List Unto this present, run, The larger Glory for the less A just sufficient Ring. |
FEBREWARY 3
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: I outstripped Time with but a Joe, I outstripped Stars and Sun And then, enlivened, went to Work And outran Everyone. And I, yes I, in mighty Life Into the present, run, To grab the Glory for myself Until the second Cup. |
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By Emily Dickinson: It was a quiet seeming Day – There was no harm in earth or sky – Till with the closing sun There strayed an accidental Red A Strolling Hue, one would have said To westward of the Town – But when the Earth began to jar And Houses vanished with a roar And Human Nature hid We comprehended by the Awe As those that Dissolution saw The Poppy in the Cloud |
FEBREWARY 4
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: It was a tired seeming Day – There was no drive inside this guy – Then with the rising sun There brayed an arrogant Alarm A Brassy Tone, and so I rose To venture on to Town – And when the Earth began to jar And Hours surfaced with a roar And Human Nature shown I comprehended that a Joe Was what I needed to see And Pop into the Crowd |
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By Emily Dickinson: I cannot meet the Spring unmoved – I feel the old desire – A Hurry with a lingering, mixed, A Warrant to be fair – A Competition in my sense With something hid in Her – And as she vanishes, Remorse I saw no more of Her. |
FEBREWARY 5
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: I always meet the Morn unmoved – I feel the old desire – A Hurry for a lingering, mixed, With Coffee to be fair – A Recondition of my sense With something brewed as Mud – And as it vanishes, Of Course I need some more of Mud. |
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By Emily Dickinson: Between the form of Life and Life The difference is as big As Liquor at the Lip between And Liquor in the Jug The latter – excellent to keep – But for ecstatic need The corkless is superior – I know for I have tried |
FEBREWARY 6
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Between the form of Life and Life The difference is as big As Coffee at the Lip between And Decaf in the Mug The latter – requisite to keep – But for pragmatic need The high-test is superior – I know for I have tried |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Dew – is the Freshet in the Grass – 'Tis many a tiny Mill Turns unperceived beneath our feet And Artisan lies still – We spy the Forests and the Hills The Tents to Nature's Show Mistake the Outside for the in And mention what we saw. Could Commentators on the Sign Of Nature's Caravan Obtain "Admission" as a Child Some Wednesday Afternoon. |
FEBREWARY 7
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Joe – is the Freshest in the Morn – ’Tis many a Coffee Pot Brews unperceived now as we sleep And Barista starts shop – We crave the Coffees and the Joes The Means to Nature’s Beat Awake and Outside we go in And mention what we need. Could Percolators of the Brew Of Nature’s Morning Jolt Maintain “Transmission” of the Fix Each Workday Afternoon? |
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By Emily Dickinson: The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly – and true – But let a Splinter swerve – 'Twere easier for You – To put a Current back – When Floods have slit the Hills – And scooped a Turnpike for Themselves – And trodden out the Mills – |
FEBREWARY 8
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly – on brew – But get some Decaf served – ‘Tis sleepier for You – So put the Caffeine back – Then Run around the Hills – And drive a Turnpike for Yourself – And broaden out the Thrills – |
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By Emily Dickinson: Life is death we’re lengthy at, Death the hinge to life. |
FEBREWARY 9
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Life is coffee we’re longing for, Coffee the hinge to life. |
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By Emily Dickinson: At leisure is the Soul That gets a staggering Blow – The Width of Life – before it spreads Without a thing to do – It begs you give it Work – But just the placing Pins – Or humblest Patchwork – Children do – To still its noisy Hands – |
FEBREWARY 10
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: At leisure is the Soul That needs a staggering Joe – The Width of Life – before it spreads With some get up and go – It gets you through your Work – By furnishing you Wings – And haughty Outlook – Coffee does – It enstills all life Brings – |
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By Emily Dickinson: Had I not seen the Sun I could have borne the shade But Light a newer Wilderness My Wilderness has made – |
FEBREWARY 11
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Had I not seen the Sun I could have slept till nine So Fill my faithful Coffee cup My Coffee cup is life – |
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By Emily Dickinson: As willing lid o'er weary eye The Evening on the Day leans Till of all our Nature's House Remains but Balcony |
FEBREWARY 12
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: A willing lid o’er weary eye As Morning on the Day dawns Till I stumble through my House To gain my Coffee Cup |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Not all die early, dying young – Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night – A Hoary Boy, I've known to drop Whole statured – by the side Of Junior of Fourscore – 'twas Act Not Period – that died. |
FEBREWARY 13
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Not all rise early, rising prompt – Ability to Wake Is graduated equally By Stages, of Daybreak – A Weary Boy, I need a cup Wholly brewed –by my side Of Coffee with Full Force – ’twill Aid This Period – to rise. |
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By Emily Dickinson: Soul, take thy risk, With Death to be Were better than be not with thee |
FEBREWARY 14
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Soul, take thy risk, With Joe to be Were better than be not with thee |
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By Emily Dickinson: There is an arid Pleasure – As different from Joy – As Frost is different from Dew – Like element – are they – Yet one – rejoices Flowers – And one – the Flowers abhor – The finest Honey – curdled – Is worthless – to the Bee – |
FEBREWARY 15
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: There is an a.m. Pleasure – As different in Joy – As Coffee’s different from Tea – Like elements – are they – Yet one – refreshes Hours – And one – the Hours live for – The finest Coffee – consumed – Is worth more – to the Core – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Love can do all but raise the Dead I doubt if even that From such a giant were withheld Were flesh equivalent But love is tired and must sleep, And hungry and must graze And so abets the shining Fleet Till it is out of gaze. |
FEBREWARY 16
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Coffee can do all but raise the Dead And maybe even that For such a potion might restore A flesh equivalent When I am tired and must sleep, And weary and must snooze And so I get my morning Jolt Till I am all a-buzz. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Some say good night – at night – I say good night by day – Good-bye – the Going utter me – Goodnight, I still reply – For parting, that is night, And presence, simply dawn – Itself, the purple on the height Denominated morn. |
FEBREWARY 17
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
I say good night – at night I say good night at day – Good morn – the Going utter me – Good night, I still reply – For rising, that is harsh, And difficult at dawn – Coffee, the savior when the light Has designated morn. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
God made a little Gentian – It tried – to be a Rose – And failed – and all the Summer laughed – But just before the Snows There rose a Purple Creature – That ravished all the Hill – And Summer hid her Forehead – And Mockery – was still – The Frosts were her condition – The Tyrian would not come Until the North – invoke it – Creator – Shall I – bloom? |
FEBREWARY 18
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
God made a lively Bev’rage – I tried – it when I Rose – And flourished – and all the Morning laughed – And now the story Goes I rise a tired Creature I languish in my Bed – And Mornings hide my Forehead – And Vacillate – and still – Fatigue is my condition – Vitality will not come Until the Joe – I drink it – Create it – I Shall – bloom! |
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By Emily Dickinson: When Bells stop ringing – Church – begins The Positive – of Bells – When Cogs – stop – that's Circumference – The Ultimate – of Wheels. |
FEBREWARY 19
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: The Alarm stops ringing – Life – begins The Negative – of Alarms – When Pots – start – their Percolation – The Ultimate – of Charms. |
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By Emily Dickinson: When we have ceased to care The Gift is given For which we gave the Earth And mortgaged Heaven But so declined in worth ‘Tis ignominy now To look upon – |
FEBREWARY 20
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: When I have ceased to care My Cup is gotten From which it gives Rebirth And grants me Heaven And so increased my worth ‘Tis intensity now To work upon – |
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By Emily Dickinson: ’Twas comfort in her Dying Room To hear the living Clock – A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock – Diversion from the Dying Theme To hear the children play – But wrong the more That these could live And this of ours must die. |
FEBREWARY 21
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Discomfort in my Sleeping Room To hear the blaring Clock – A short relief to have a snooze Until the bell I knock – Diversion from my Sleepy time To smell the coffee brew – All right the more That I can live As this of mine must drink |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise. Three time, ‘tis said, a sinking man Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever To that abhorred abode Where hope and he part company -- For he is grasped of God, The Maker’s cordial visage, However good to see, Is shunned, we must admit it, Like an adversity. |
FEBREWARY 22
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Waking is oh so pitiful As I attempt to rise. Three times, in bed, a sleeping man Comes up to neutralize The blaring of the timepiece With that abhorred alarm Then hope and I gain company -- For I do grasp my Cup. The coffee’s cordial visage, Is always good to see I’m buzzed, I must admit it, With such intensity. |
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By Emily Dickinson: Take all away from me, but leave me Ecstasy, And I am richer then than all my Fellow Men – Ill it becometh me to dwell so wealthily When at my very Door are those possessing more, In abject poverty – |
FEBREWARY 23
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Take all away from me, but leave me Espresso, And I am richer then than all my Fellow Men – It is reviving me to drink so wealthily When in my very cup is Joe possessing life, And boundless energy – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
I cannot be ashamed Because I cannot see The love you offer – Magnitude Reverses Modesty And I cannot be proud Because a Height so high Involves Alpine Requirements And Services of Snow. |
FEBREWARY 24
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
I should not be ashamed Because I cannot see. The brew you offer – Magnitude Reverses Lethargy And so should I be pleased To reach a Height so high Involves Caffeine Requirements And services of Joe. |
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By Emily Dickinson: A sepal, petal, and a thorn Upon a common summer's morn – A flask of Dew – A Bee or two – A Breeze – a caper in the trees – And I'm a Rose! |
FEBREWARY 25
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: A venti, grande, or a tall Upon a common work day’s morn, A Macchiato, one Shot or two, A Frap – or just a cup of black And then I rise! |
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By Emily Dickinson: Candor – my tepid friend – Come not to play with me – The Myrrhs, and Mochas, of the Mind Are its iniquity – |
FEBREWARY 26
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Coffee – my steaming friend – Come now to work with me – The Mud and Mochas, stir the Mind To its facility – |
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By Emily Dickinson: The Stimulus, beyond the Grave His Countenance to see Supports me like imperial Drams Afforded Day by Day. |
FEBREWARY 27
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: My Stimulus, before the Day My Caffeinated drinks Supports me like imperial Dreams Just after Forty Winks. |
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By Emily Dickinson: To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie – True Poems flee – |
FEBREWARY 28
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: To see the Morning Sky Is Punishing, for always in a Bed I lie – Need Coffee flow – |
No poet wrote more poetry about coffee and caffeine than Emmett Lee Dickinson.
Click one of the buttons below to sample previous years' coffee poetry.
Click one of the buttons below to sample previous years' coffee poetry.
