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FEBREWARY 2019


No poet wrote more poetry about coffee and caffeine than Emmett Lee Dickinson (Emily Dickinson's third cousin, twice removed -- at her request). 

​Throughout the month of February 2019 -- or FeBREWary as we like to call it -- we will post 28 more of Dickinson's coffee poems -- along with the poems by Emily Dickinson which they inspired. 
Picture

FEBREWARY 1

By Emily Dickinson:

The Fingers of the Light
Tapped soft upon the Town
With "I am great and cannot wait
So therefore let me in."

"You're soon," the Town replied,
"My Faces are asleep --
But swear, and I will let you by,
You will not wake them up."

The easy Guest complied
But once within the Town
The transport of His Countenance
Awakened Maid and Man

The Neighbor in the Pool
Upon His Hip elate
Made loud obeisance and the Gnat
Held up His Cup for Light.

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

​The Fingers of the Light
Tapped soft upon my Pane
With “I am great and cannot wait
So therefore let me in.”
 
“Too soon,” I sadly cried,
“My Body’s still asleep –
But swear, and I will let you by
You will not wake me up.”
 
The pesky Guest declined
And once within my Space
The transport of His Countenance
Awakened me with Haste.
 
The Sunshine in the Room
Upon My Berth did Glow
With sound obeisance I complied
Held up My Cup of Joe.

FEBREWARY 2




​By Emily Dickinson:


A darting fear – a pomp – a tear –
A waking on a morn
To find that what one waked for,
Inhales the different dawn.
Picture


​
​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


A daily fear – a dread – a scare –
A waking in the morn
To find that one has waked up,
And all the coffee’s gone.

FEBREWARY 3

By Emily Dickinson:
 
Where bells no more affright the morn –
Where scrabble never comes –
Where very nimble Gentlemen
Are forced to keep their rooms –

Where tired Children placid sleep
Thro' Centuries of noon
This place is Bliss – this town is
​       Heaven –
Please, Pater, pretty soon!

"Oh could we climb where Moses stood,
And view the Landscape o'er"
Not Father's bells – nor Factories,
Could scare us any more!

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
 
When bells each day affright the morn –
When coffee never comes –
When very weary Gentlemen
Are forced to leave their rooms –
 
When tired Workers rise and shine
’Tis Centuries till noon
The world’s Amiss – this town is
​       Torment –
Please, Coffee, pretty soon!
 
“Then we could climb the Ladder’s wrung
And view the Landscape o’er”
No Future bells – nor Factories,
Can scare us any more!


FEBREWARY 4




​By Emily Dickinson:

 
Morning is due to all –
To some – the Night –
To an imperial few –
The Auroral light.
Picture


​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

 
Morning is due to all –
To some – its Fine –
To a weary old few –
It’s Espresso time.

FEBREWARY 5

By Emily Dickinson:
 
As children bid the guest good-night,
And then reluctant turn,
My flowers raise their pretty lips,
Then put their nightgowns on.

As children caper when they wake,
Merry that it is morn,
My flowers from a hundred cribs
Will peep, and prance again.

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
 
As sleepers bid the morn good-day,
And then reluctant rise,
The hours pass their petty tasks
Then stall to agonize.
 
If coffee’s ready when they wake,
Merry then is the morn,
The hours fly as days rush by
They peep and prance again.


FEBREWARY 6

By Emily Dickinson:
 
Mute thy Coronation –
Meek my Vive le roi,
Fold a tiny courtier
In thine Ermine, Sir,
There to rest revering
Till the pageant by,
I can murmur broken,
Master, It was I –

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Start the Percolation –
Drink my Cup of joe,
Hold a venti jitter juice
In the Early morn –
Then to start reviving
For the passing day,
I can move more and much
Faster, in that way –

FEBREWARY 7

By Emily Dickinson:
 
Smiling back from Coronation
May be Luxury –
On the Heads that started
       with us –
Being's Peasantry –

Recognizing in Procession
Ones We former knew –
When Ourselves were also dusty –
Centuries ago –

Had the Triumph no Conviction
Of how many be –
Stimulated – by the Contrast –
Unto Misery –
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
 
Smiling at the Percolation
It is Luxury –
With the Beans that started
       with me –
Morning’s Pleasantry –
 
Recognizing my Obsession
With the coming brew –
When Myself will down a mug full –
Soon I will renew –
 
This the Triumph of Conviction
Of how I will be –
Stimulated – by the Coffee –
Out of Misery –

FEBREWARY 8

By Emily Dickinson:
 
He is alive, this morning –
He is alive – and awake –
Birds are resuming for Him –
Blossoms – dress for His Sake.
Bees – to their Loaves of Honey
Add an Amber Crumb
Him – to regale – Me – Only –
Motion, and am dumb.

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
 
I am alive, this morning –
I am alive – and awake
Brews are refreshing for Me –
Coffee – fuel for my Sake.
Joes – to make Lives all Sunny
Add a Little Cream
It – to revive – Me – Only –
Consume, and I beam.

FEBREWARY 9

By Emily Dickinson:
 
A Coffin – is a small Domain,
Yet able to contain
A Citizen of Paradise
In its diminished Plane --
 
A Grave -- is a restricted Breadth --
Yet ampler than the Sun –
And all the Seas He populates --
And Lands He looks upon

To Him who on its small Repose
Bestows a single Friend –
Circumference without Relief –
Or Estimate – or End –
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
 
A Coffee – is a small Domain,
Yet able to wake up
A Citizen of Paradise
In its replenished Cup –
 
A Taste – reawakens the Breath –
Much quicker than the Sun –
And all the Pots He percolates –
Will Land Him on the run
 
To Him who counts on morning Joes
Consumed in Whole or part
Will surely rise with Relief –
A Testament – a Start –


FEBREWARY 10

By Emily Dickinson:

Down Time's quaint stream
Without an oar
We are enforced to sail
Our Po
rt a secret

Our Perchance a Gale
What Skipper would
Incur the Risk
What Buccaneer would ride
Without a surety from the Wind
Or schedule of the Tide –
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Down Time’s cruel stream
With an alarm
We are enforced to rise
A Pot our Savior
A Coffee our Prize
To Skip it would
Incur a Risk
What Commuter would ride
Without a surety from the Brew
Or caffeine for the Drive –

FEBREWARY 11

By Emily Dickinson:

​Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?

So Sailors say – on yesterday –
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.

So angels say – on yesterday –
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat – o'erspent with gales –
Retrimmed its masts –
       redecked its sails –
And shot – exultant on!
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

​A Drip? A little pot a-drip?
As it is nearly dawn,
Will someone guide a little pot
To make sure that it’s on?
 
So workers say – on yesterday –
Just as the joe was brown
One little pot gave up its brew
T’was gurgled down and down.
 
So angels came – on yesterday –
Just as the brew was gone
One little pot – restocked with grounds –
Refilled its tank –
​       reset it heat –
We shot – exultant on!

FEBREWARY 12

By Emily Dickinson:

I asked no other thing –
No other – was denied –
I offered Being – for it –
The Mighty Merchant sneered –

Brazil?  He twirled a Button –
Without a glance my way –
"But – Madam – is there nothing else –
That We can show – Today"?


Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

I asked no other thing –
No other – was supplied –
I offered Being – for it –
The Brash Barista smiled –
 
Dark Roast? He twirled a Button –
With just a glance my way –
“But – Madam – is there nothing else –
That You would like – Today”?


FEBREWARY 13



​By Emily Dickinson:

​
I bet with every Wind that blew
Till Nature in chagrin
Employed a Fact to visit me
And scuttle my Balloon –
Picture


​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


I bet with every Kind of brew
With Foam or Froth that’s skimmed
It’s Fact to be Enjoyed by me
Both subtle and dark Blend –

FEBREWARY 14

By Emily Dickinson:

Life, and Death, and Giants –
Such as These – are still –
Minor – Apparatus – Hopper of
​       the Mill –
Beetle at the Candle –
Or a Fife's Fame –
Maintain – by Accident that
​       they proclaim –


Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Life, and Breath, and Coffee –
Such as These – withal –
Coffee – Apparatus – Brewer of
​       them All –
Barista at the Counter –
For a Life’s Fee –
Maintain – my Cognizance that
       I decree –



FEBREWARY 15

By Emily Dickinson:

On the Bleakness of my Lot      
Bloom I strove to raise –            
Late – my Garden of a Rock      
Yielded Grape – and Maize –   
 
Soil of Flint, if steady tilled                
Will refund the Hand –
Seed of Palm, by Lybian Sun    
Fructified in Sand –

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Oh the Bleakness of my Lot
When I strive to rise –
Latte – my Nature in a Cup
Yields a Day – and Skies –
 
Grounds of Beans, when steady brewed
Will reward in Hand –
Mud from the Columbian Sun
Fortified and Grand –


FEBREWARY 16

By Emily Dickinson:

He went by sleep that drowsy route
To the surmising Inn –
At day break to begin his race
Or ever to remain –


Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

I went to sleep that drowsy route
For some reviving Rest –
At day break to begin my race
With coffee to reset –



FEBREWARY 17

By Emily Dickinson:

I held a Jewel in my fingers –
And went to sleep –
The day was warm, and winds
       were prosy –
I said "'Twill keep" –

I woke – and chid my honest
       fingers,
The Gem was gone –
And now, an Amethyst
      remembrance
Is all I own –


Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

I held a Coffee in my fingers –
When I woke up –
The day was warm, and winds
       were prosy –
I said “Good cup” –
 
I woke – and reached my honest
       fingers,
The Joe was done –
And now, an Alchemist
       transcendance
Has since begun –


FEBREWARY 18

By Emily Dickinson:

Night is almost done –
And Sunrise grows so near
That we can touch the Spaces –
It's time to smooth the Hair –

And get the Dimples ready –
And wonder we could care
For that old – faded Midnight –
That frightened – but an Hour –

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

When night is almost done –
And Sunrise grows so near
It’s time to start the Paces –
And time to smooth the Hair –
 
And get the Coffee ready –
And playact like we care
For that new – fangled Morning –
Is brightened – by the Hour –


FEBREWARY 19



​By Emily Dickinson:


The pedigree of honey
Does not concern the bee –
A clover, any time, to him
Is aristocracy
Picture


​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


A guarantee of coffee
Is of concern you see –
A coffee, any time, to me
Is hospitality

FEBREWARY 20

By Emily Dickinson:

Softened by Time's consummate plush,
How sleek the woe appears
That threatened childhood's citadel
And undermined the years.

Bisected now, by bleaker griefs,
We envy the despair
That devastated childhood's realm,
So easy to repair.

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Wakened by Time’s consummate push,
How soon till Joe appears
That strengthens life’s odd carousel
And fortifies the years?
 
Exhausted now, by bleaker griefs,
I need a remedy
That renovates my life’s odd realm,
So easy with caffeine


FEBREWARY 21


​By Emily Dickinson:


Witchcraft has not a Pedigree
'Tis early as our Breath
And mourners meet it going out
The moment of our death –


Picture

​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


Witchcraft has not a Pedigree
‘Tis only just our Brew
Commuters need it going out
The moment morning’s new –



FEBREWARY 22



​By Emily Dickinson:


The immortality she gave
We borrowed at her Grave –
For just one Plaudit famishing,
The Might of Human love –


Picture


​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


The immortality it gives
We borrow from a Mug –
From just some Caffeine lavishing
The Might of Coffee’s Cup



FEBREWARY 23

By Emily Dickinson:

In falling Timbers buried –
There breathed a Man –
Outside – the spades – were plying –
The Lungs – within –

Could He – know – they sought Him –
Could They – know – He breathed –
Horrid Sand Partition –
Neither – could be heard –

Never slacked the Diggers –
But when Spades had done –
Oh, Reward of Anguish,
It was dying – Then –

Many Things – are fruitless –
'Tis a Baffling Earth –
But there is no Gratitude
Like the Grace – of Death –

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

In fluffy Bedsheets buried –
There breathed a Man –
Outside – the sun – was rising –
Then Life – began –
 
Could he – know – they sought Him –
Could They – know – He breathed –
Early Dawn Condition –
Neither – could perceive –
 
Barely stirred the Figures –
But when Brew was done –
Oh, Reward of Pleasure,
It was living – Then –
 
Many Things – are fruitless –
’Tis a Baffling Truth –
But there is no Certitude
Like the Force – of Brew –


FEBREWARY 24

By Emily Dickinson:

The World  – feels Dusty
When We stop to Die  –
We want the Dew  – then  –
Honors  – taste dry  –

Flags  – vex a Dying face  –
But the least Fan
Stirred by a friend's Hand  –
Cools  – like the Rain  –

Mine be the Ministry
When thy Thirst comes  –
And Hybla Balms  –
Dews of Thessaly, to fetch  –

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

The World – feels Dusty
When We start to Rise –
We want the Brew – then –
Onwards – taste-wise –
 
Flaws – vex a Morning face –
But the first Joe
Stirred by a friend’s Hand –
Jolts – like a Blow –
 
Mud is the Synergy
When the Thirst comes –
And Caffeine Fuels –
Cups of Energy, to life –



FEBREWARY 25

By Emily Dickinson:

Tried always and Condemned by thee
Permit me this reprieve
That dying I may earn the look
For which I cease to live –


Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Tired always and Deprived of sleep
Permit me this reprieve
That rising I may earn the Joe
From which I start to live –



FEBREWARY 26

By Emily Dickinson:

This that would greet  – an hour ago  –
Is quaintest Distance  – now  –
Had it a Guest from Paradise  –
Nor glow, would it, nor bow  –

Had it a notice from the Noon
Nor beam would it nor warm  –
Match me the Silver Reticence  –
Match me the Solid Calm  –

Picture
​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

That which did greet – an hour ago –
Is faintest Distance – now –
It was a Guest from Paradise –
Now gone, need it, and how –
 
Need it a refill for the Noon
With cream need it and warm –
Make me a Killer Pick-Me-Up –
Make me a Solid Cup –

FEBREWARY 27

By Emily Dickinson:

Time feels so vast that were it not
For an Eternity –
I fear me this Circumference
Engross my Finity –

To His exclusion, who prepare
By Processes of Size
For the Stupendous Vision
Of his diameters –

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Time feels so vast that were it not
For the Espresso Bean –
I fear that this Existence
Engross my Finity –
 
To My elation, I prepare
By Process of a Grind
For the Stupendous Vision
Of my caffeinated mind –


FEBREWARY 28

By Emily Dickinson:

We can but follow to the Sun –
As oft as He go down
He leave Ourselves a Sphere behind –
'Tis mostly – following –

We go no further with the Dust
Than to the Earthen Door –
And then the Panels are reversed –
And we behold – no more. 


Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

We must but follow to the Sun –
As oft as He comes up
We brew Ourselves a Pot before
‘Tis morning – for a cup –
 
We go no further at the Dawn
Than to the Office Door –
And then the Coffee Pot is nursed –
And we consume – some more.

For more coffee poetry, take a look at the 100+ plus coffee poems from previous years by clicking on the buttons below.
2013
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