FEBRUARY 2021

Is the word "COFFEE" music to your ears?  Or is it more like poetry?
In either case, join us throughout the month of February 2021 --
or "FeBREWary" as we like to call it --
as we post more of the coffee poetry of Emmett Lee Dickinson
(Emily Dickinson's third cousin, twice removed -- at her request).
For each date of the month, we will post one of Emmett Lee Dickinson's poems about coffee on the left.  Dickinson's poems inspired third cousin Emily to pen some of her poetry, and those poems will be posted on the right. 

FeBREWary 1

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

For each frenetic instant
I must a coffee buy
In keen and quivering ratio
To my destiny –
 
For each untimely hour
When I stir from a Dream –
Better consist of cravings –
Of Coffees heaped with cream!
By Emily Dickinson:

For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy –

For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of Years –
Bitter contested farthings –
And Coffers heaped with tears!
​

FeBREWary 2

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

I taste a coffee richly brewed,
In coffee cups to go;
For all the pots upon the Flame
Yield such a robust joe!
 
In need of energy am I,
A zombie at the dawn,
Reeling, through mindless work-week
​          daze
Throughout with stifled yawn.
 
When bosses turn the worker bees
Into their cubicles,
When working stiffs recount
​          their dreams,
I shall but drink the more!
 
Till punch clocks ring their daily bells
And serfs to suburbs run,
I’ll down a little coffee
Driving into the sun!
By Emily Dickinson:

I taste a liquor never brewed,
From tankards scooped in pearl;
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an alcohol!

Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer
​          days,
From inns of molten blue.

When landlords turn the drunken bee
Out of the foxglove's door,
When butterflies renounce
​          their drams,
I shall but drink the more!

Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,
And saints to windows run,
To see the little tippler
Leaning against the sun!

FeBREWary 3

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

There is no Frigate like a Cup
To wake me Every day
Nor any Bracer like a Brew
Of piping hot black Joe –
This Pick-me-up the pooped-out take
With just a minor Toll –
How fugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human soul
By Emily Dickinson:

There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry –
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll –
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human soul
 

FeBREWary 4

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

My Room is in the dark!
I cannot see the clock
Yet know its ticking hands
Go round and round.
 
It’s buzzer’s right on Time!
A very frequent plight –
Yet have all plights
A brewing at the light –
 
Some are resigned to Gloom –
Some in a busy room
Find fixed employ –
 
Some with fresh—sav’ry brew –
Pass daily through the morn –
Flinging off problems as
The day goes by!
 
By Emily Dickinson:

My Wheel is in the dark!
I cannot see a spoke
Yet know its dripping feet
Go round and round.
 
My foot is on the Tide!
An unfrequented road –
Yet have all roads
A clearing at the end –
 
Some have resigned the Loom –
Some in the busy tomb
Find quaint employ –
 
Some with new – stately feet –
Pass royal through the gate –
Flinging the problem back
At you and I!
 
 

FeBREWary 5

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

My friend must be a Brew –
Because it spurs!
Potent, my friend must be,
Because it stirs!
Force has it, by Degree!
Ah, glorious friend!
Thou sustainest me!
By Emily Dickinson:

My friend must be a Bird --
Because it flies!
Mortal, my friend must be,
Because it dies!
Barbs has it, like a Bee!
Ah, curious friend!
Thou puzzlest me!

FeBREWary 6

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

I rise myself within the hour,
That waking of the Days –
I – resurrecting – brew for me –
A Joe – a stimulus –
By Emily Dickinson:
​
I hide myself within my flower,
That fading from your Vase –
You – unsuspecting – feel for me –
Almost – a loneliness –

FeBREWary 7

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

A something in a workweek’s Day
As slow its hours burn away
Which solemnizes me.
 
A something in a workweek’s noon –
A cup – of Coffee – a commune –
Transcending ecstasy.
 
And still within a workweek’s night
A decaf transporting delight
I clasp my mug to drink –
 
Then quell my disconnecting brain
In such a subtle – simmering gain
Slumber all night for me –
 
The sandman always hands me rest –
The pillow soft within my nest
Still drapes my narrow bed –
 
Then near the East her amber Flag –
The sun still slides along the Crag –
Its daily Span of Red –
 
So ticking on – the night – the morn
Concludes the stars’ array –
And I rise, downing all the joes
Another workweek’s Day!
By Emily Dickinson:

A something in a summer's Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer's noon –
A depth – an Azure – a perfume –
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer's night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see –

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle – shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me –

The wizard fingers never rest –
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes its narrow bed –

Still rears the East her amber Flag –
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red –

So looking on – the night – the morn
Conclude the wonder gay –
And I meet, coming thro' the dews
Another summer's Day!

FeBREWary 8

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

We sleep – because we wake –
Toilers --  unrelenting who –
Drink their joes again!
By Emily Dickinson:

We lose – because we win –
Gamblers – recollecting which –
Toss their dice again!

FeBREWary 9

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

If this is “waking”
Oh let me immediately “wake”!
If this is “rising”
Angle – me, with shares of joe to take!
If I must “sleep,”
On such a night
How prompt to shut my eye!
Good Morning, gentle Fellow men!
Coffee is soon to fly!
By Emily Dickinson:

If this is "fading"
Oh let me immediately "fade"!
If this is "dying"
Bury – me, in such a shroud of red!
If this is "sleep,"
On such a night
How proud to shut the eye!
Good Evening, gentle Fellow men!
Peacock presumes to die!

FeBREWary 10

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

When there really is a “Morning”!
When there’s such a thing as “Day”!
I must see it with a coffee
To start along my way!
 
Gives me feet like swift Achilles!
Gives me flight just like a Bird!
Roasts are brought from famous
​          countries
Of which I’ve always heard!
 
Oh some Latte!  Oh some Mocha!  
Of some French Press from the grounds!
Please to stir a little Pilgrim
When the place called “Morning” sounds!
By Emily Dickinson:

Will there really be a "Morning"?
Is there such a thing as "Day"?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous
​          countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Men from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called "Morning" lies!

FeBREWary 11

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

The Sun kept rising – rising – high!
And I to meet him rose!
On his side, what Transaction!
On my side, what of Joes!
 
Wider and wider grew the rays
Upon the window pane –
Quicker and quicker ticked the hands
Amid the Clock’s campaign
 
Was clouded dense with Pressures –
So gray, so Unaware –
That I got coffee brewing
At once to end Despair –
 
Changed from my chummy coffee –
And Suddenly was there!
By Emily Dickinson:

The Sun kept stooping – stooping – low!
The Hills to meet him rose!
On his side, what Transaction!
On their side, what Repose!

Deeper and deeper grew the stain
Upon the window pane –
Thicker and thicker stood the feet
Until the Tyrian

Was crowded dense with Armies –
So gay, so Brigadier –
That I felt martial stirrings
Who once the Cockade wore –

Charged from my chimney corner –
But Nobody was there!

FeBREWary 12

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

I think just how my shape will rise –
When there is no “guarantee” –
My Hair – my Eyes – my timid Head –
Are out of sight – till Coffee –
 
I think just how my lips will taste –
With ageless – quivering – prayer –
The Joe – that quick – “Delivers” me –
The “Fellow” in its Care
 
I mind me that by Angels – sent –
Some cups are brewed each day –
Before I leave the house for – work –
And why not more – I pray!
 
And so because there’s no –
​          “guarantee” –
Until – caffeinated – borne –
By my deep cup – and deeper – trust –
I lift my Heart – enlivened!
By Emily Dickinson:

I think just how my shape will rise –
When I shall be "forgiven" –
Till Hair – and Eyes – and timid Head –
Are out of sight – in Heaven –

I think just how my lips will weigh –
With shapeless – quivering – prayer –
That you – so late – "Consider" me –
The "Sparrow" of your Care –

I mind me that of Anguish – sent –
Some drifts were moved away –
Before my simple bosom – broke –
And why not this – if they?

And so I con that thing –
​          "forgiven" –
Until – delirious – borne –
By my long bright – and longer – trust –
I drop my Heart – unshriven!

FeBREWary 13

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

No Joes, so felt myself a’gloom,
No Brew – so had a Sleeper –
By Emily Dickinson:

No Rose, yet felt myself a’bloom,
No Bird – yet rode in Ether –

FeBREWary 14

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

God permits industrious Angels –
The mornings – to rise –
I’m not one – forget my Workmates –
Joes – for Me – full size –
 
God calls home – the Angels –
​          promptly –
At the Setting Sun –
I need more – so weary – Coffees –
Before starting Home!
By Emily Dickinson:

God permits industrious Angels –
Afternoons – to play –
I met one – forgot my Schoolmates –
All – for Him – straightway –

God calls home – the Angels –
​          promptly –
At the Setting Sun –
I missed mine – how dreary – Marbles –
After playing Crown!

FeBREWary 15

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

How dare the robins sing,
When men and women wake
Who since they went to sleep quite late
Will need a coffee break –
In all the life they’d learned
In one consummate cup
They now drink up what life can do
Before the day burns up.
Unyielding is the sun
To those who wince at light
Consumed of all their energy
Before return of night.
Delight be every cup
A difference for them
Who need caffeine each day to,
At daybreak overcome!
 
By Emily Dickinson:

How dare the robins sing,
When men and women hear
Who since they went to their account
Have settled with the year –
Paid all that life had earned
In one consummate bill,
And now, what life or death can do
Is immaterial.
Insulting is the sun
To him whose mortal light
Beguiled of immortality
Bequeaths him to the night.
Extinct be every hum
In deference to him
Whose garden wrestles with the dew,
At daybreak overcome!

FeBREWary 16

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

By the returning light
We yawn acuter, quite,
Then by the clock that knows,
There’s something in our flight
That clarifies our sight
A stop for joes.
By Emily Dickinson:

By a departing light
We see acuter, quite,
Than by a wick that stays.
There's something in the flight
That clarifies the sight
And decks the rays.

FeBREWary 17

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

These morning Creatures, –
​          who are they?
Those faithful to the sun
Administer them ecstasy,
Through just their Morning Mud.
By Emily Dickinson:

​Those final Creatures, –
​          who they are –
That faithful to the close
Administer her ecstasy,
But just the Summer knows.

FeBREWary 18

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

The Latitudes of Percolation 
Beget a force
They are the coffee’s real vexations
That refresh me –
The Joes reactivate my actions –
With force to spare
By Emily Dickinson:

The Lassitudes of Contemplation 
Beget a force
They are the spirit's still vacation
That him refresh –
The Dreams consolidate in action –
What mettle fair

FeBREWary 19

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

The pattern of the sun
Can fill me with a groan
For I must have a Joe
To greet the sun
By Emily Dickinson:

The pattern of the sun
Can fit but him alone
For sheen must have a Disk
To be a sun

FeBREWary 20

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

So gray an Hour
Bereaves my mind
And so I need a Joe –
Is Coffee an Addiction – then?
Cognition begs to know –
By Emily Dickinson:

So gay a Flower
Bereaves the mind
As if it were a Woe –
Is Beauty an Affliction – then?
Tradition ought to know –

FeBREWary 21

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

This early – morning – Start
Is freely mine –
I want it with a Joe –
A Daily sign –
 
Intelligibly fair
To him who sees
This Cure-all of the Soul
Is what one needs.
By Emily Dickinson:

This dirty – little – Heart
Is freely mine –
I won it with a Bun –
A Freckled shrine –
 
But eligibly fair
To him who sees
The Visage of the Soul
And not the knees.

FeBREWary 22

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Oh so divine a Gain
We gather from the Bean
Vitality for Brews intense
A cup of Bliss we glean
By Emily Dickinson:

Of so divine a Loss
We enter but the Gain,
Indemnity for Loneliness
That such a Bliss has been

FeBREWary 23

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Me – Wake!  My grizzled face
In such a shining place!
Me – rise! My tired Ear
The sounds of Daybreak – near!
 
Old Pains shall greet
My sluggish feet –
 
My perfect Day, shall be
That I – recover me –
My Paradise – I’ll know
When I – possess my joe –
By Emily Dickinson:

Me – Come! My dazzled face
In such a shining place!
Me – hear! My foreign Ear
The sounds of Welcome – there!

The Saints forget
Our bashful feet –

My Holiday, shall be
That They – remember me –
My Paradise – the fame
That They – pronounce my name –
 

FeBREWary 24

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Mine Morning Joe is growing cold –
I must at least Reheat –
The Pallor of my Face departs –
The dawn is soon complete
 
Let me be quick – with Vital joes –
To start a faded Morn –
Gusto as soon as quenched is live –
From drinking I’m reborn –
By Emily Dickinson:

Mine Enemy is growing old –
I have at last Revenge –
The Palate of the Hate departs –
If any would avenge

Let him be quick – the Viand flits –
It is a faded Meat –
Anger as soon as fed is dead –
'Tis starving makes it fat –

FeBREWary 25

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

How soft this Mattress is
How sweet these pillows are
A Duvet on the King of Down
Invented this repose  
 
My Fate if I must Rise
A mug of steamy Brew
A Coffee but a Heaven is
Reincarnation – Soon
By Emily Dickinson:

How soft this Prison is
How sweet these sullen bars
No Despot but the King of Down
Invented this repose

Of Fate if this is All
Has he no added Realm
A Dungeon but a Kinsman is
Incarceration — Home.

FeBREWary 26

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

How fortunate the Morn –
All Coffee to obtain,
Essential certain, from the first,
Lest Sooner can be gained.
By Emily Dickinson:

How fortunate the Grave –
All Prizes to obtain,
Successful certain, if at last,
First Suitor not in vain.

To check out our past posts of Dickinson's coffee poetry. click the buttons below!