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FEBREWARY 2018

​​

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

In FeBREWary 2018, we will serve up a "sixth cup" of his coffee poetry.  We'll post a new caffeinated poem each day. 

Picture

FEBREWARY 1

By Emily Dickinson:

Morns like these – we parted
Noons like these – she rose –
Fluttering first - then firmer
To her fair repose -
 
Never did she lisp it
And 'twas not for me –
She was mute for transport
I – for agony –

Till the evening nearing
One the shutters drew –
Quick! a sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew!


Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Morns like this – I slept in –
Noons like this – I rose –
Fluttering first – then firmer
Once I sipped my Joe –
 
Always did I sip it
And ’twas just for me –
Then made right for transport
I – with energy –
 
With the evening nearing
Once the shutters drew –
I sat and wondered just
How the hours flew!

FEBREWARY 2




​By Emily Dickinson:


In the name of the Bee –
And of the Butterfly –
And of the Breeze – Amen!


Picture




​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


In the name of the Joe –
And of the Jitter Juice –
And of the Brews – Amen!

FEBREWARY 3
By Emily Dickinson:

Sleep is supposed to be,
By souls of sanity,
The shutting of the eye.

Sleep is the station grand
Down which on either hand
The hosts of witness stand!

Morn is supposed to be,
By people of degree,
The breaking of the Day.

Morning has not occurred!
That shall Aurora be –
East of Eternity –
​
One with the banner gay –
One in the red array –
That is the break of Day!
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Sleep is supposed to be,
By souls of sanity,
The shutting of the eye.

Sleep is the holy land
But on the other hand
The waking is not grand!

Morn is supposed to be,
By people of degree,
The best part of the Day.

Morning is just too blurred!
That shall Forever be –
It’s not Hyperbole –
​
One needs a sturdy joe –
One needs the mud to flow –
That is the break of Day!

FEBREWARY 4
By Emily Dickinson:

If I should die,
And you should live –
And time should gurgle on –
And morn should beam –
And noon should burn –
As it has usual done –
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go –
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie –
That Commerce will continue –
And Trades as briskly fly –
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene –
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

If I should rise,
And I should live –
And time should gurgle on –
And morn should beam –
And noon should burn –
As it has usual done –
Then Joes should brew as early
So I can bustling go –
One cup for my departure
To energize my flow!
’Tis sweet to know it helps me stand
When I would rather lie –
That Commerce will continue –
And Hours will briskly fly –
It makes the morning lively
And keeps the soul between 
–
The power to go sprightly
About the daily scene!

FEBREWARY 5
By Emily Dickinson:

If your Nerve, deny you –
Go above your Nerve –
He can lean against the Grave,
If he fear to swerve –

That's a steady posture –
Never any bend
Held of those Brass arms –
Best Giant made –

If your Soul seesaw –
Lift the Flesh door –
The Poltroon wants Oxygen –
Nothing more –

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

If your Nerve deny you –
Go above your Nerve –
You can lean upon a Joe,
Then feel safe to swerve –
 
That’s a ready posture –
Always to the end
Held in Coffee mugs –
Best Morning friend –
 
If your Soul seesaw –
Lift the Coffee pot –
The Poltroon needs more Caffeine –
Nothing more –



FEBREWARY 6
By Emily Dickinson:
 
On such a night, or such a night,
Would anybody care
If such a little figure
Slipped quiet from its chair 
–

So quiet
– Oh how quiet,
That nobody might know
But that the little figure
Rocked softer
– to and fro –

On such a dawn, or such a dawn 
–
Would anybody sigh
That such a little figure
Too sound asleep did lie

For Chanticleer to wake it 
–
Or stirring house below 
–
Or giddy bird in orchard 
–
Or early task to do? 
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
 
On such a morn, or such a morn,
When all the sky is red
When such a little figure
Slipped quiet from its bed –
 
So quiet – Oh how quiet,
That nobody might know
But that the little figure
Ran swiftly – for a joe –
 
On such a dawn, or such a dawn –
When soft the sun rose high
That such a little figure
Too sound asleep did lie
 
For All it takes to wake it –
A stirring house below –
A coffee pot in Kitchen –
An early task to brew!

FEBREWARY 7
By Emily Dickinson

​There was a little figure plump
For every little knoll –
Busy needles, and spools of thread –
And trudging feet from school –

Playmates, and holidays, and nuts –
And visions vast and small –
Strange that the feet so precious
​       charged
Should reach so small a goal!
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

There is the little figure slumped
Tucked in its little bed –
Busy dreaming, and soon must rise –
And trudging off in dread –
 
Workmates, and commuters, and such
–
With visions high and low –
Normal that their hands so promptly
​       charge
And reach so swift for joe!



FEBREWARY 8
By Emily Dickinson:

We shun it ere it comes,
Afraid of Joy,
Then sue it to delay
And lest it fly,
Beguile it more and more,
May not this be
Old Suitor Heaven,
Like our dismay at thee?
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

I crave it ere it comes,
In need of Joe,
There can be no delay
So I can fly,
Consume it more and more,
May this soon be
My Daily Heaven
No more delay of thee! 


FEBREWARY 9

​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 Condemned by stress
Permit me a reprieve
I’m dying and I need a Joe
From which I start to live –



FEBREWARY 10

​By Emily Dickinson:


How good his Lava Bed,
To this laborious Boy –
Who must be up to call the World
And dress the sleepy Day –
Picture

​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

How good was my Warm Bed,
To this soporific Boy –
Who needs a joe to greet the World
And start the sleepy Day –

FEBREWARY 11

​By Emily Dickinson:


More than the Grave is closed to me –
The Grave and that Eternity
To which the Grave adheres –
I cling to nowhere till I fall –
The Crash of nothing, yet of all –
How similar appears –
Picture

​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


More than the Day is closed to me –
The Day and that Insanity
To which the Day adheres –
I cling to everything lest I fall –
Then Crash on something, in the hall
Till my coffee appears –

FEBREWARY 12
​By Emily Dickinson:

They won't frown always — some
​       sweet Day
When I forget to tease --
They'll recollect how cold I looked
And how I just said "Please."

Then They will hasten to the Door
To call the little Girl
Who cannot thank Them for the Ice
That filled the lisping full.
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

They will smile always – each
​       sweet Day
When they sipped through a straw –
They’ll recollect how cold it looked
And how they all said “Ahh.”
 
Then They will hasten to the Door
To drink the Cold Brew up
And warmly thank Them for the Ice
That fills their coffee cup.

FEBREWARY 13
By Emily Dickinson:

A Drop Fell on the Apple Tree –
Another – on the Roof –
A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves –
And made the Gables laugh –

A few went out to help the Brook
That went to help the Sea –
Myself Conjectured were they Pearls –
What Necklace could be –

The Dust replaced, in Hoisted Roads –
The Birds jocoser sung –
The Sunshine threw his Hat away –
The Bushes – spangles flung –

The Breezes brought dejected Lutes –
And bathed them in the Glee –
Then Orient showed a single Flag,
And signed the Fete away –
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

A Drop fell in my Coffee Cup –
Another – in the Brew –
A Half a Dozen kissed the Joe –
And made the Morning new –
 
A few went down to help the Rest
To fill it to the Top
Myself Conjectured were they Pearls –
That I would never swap –
 
The Day began in Trafficked Roads –
The Brew did help me sing –
The Sunshine threw his Hat away –
The Coffee – crowned me King –
 
The Thermos brought along that Day –
And bathed me in such Glee –
The Energy with each single Swig,
I sipped the Day away –

FEBREWARY 14

By Emily Dickinson:

Adventure most unto itself
The Soul condemned to be;
Attended by a Single Hound –
Its own Identity

Picture

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Espresso all unto myself
The Soul content to be;
Intended for a Single Cup –
Its brewed Intensity

FEBREWARY 15

​By Emily Dickinson:


Apparently with no surprise
To any happy Flower
The Frost beheads it at its play --
In accidental power --
The blonde Assassin passes on --
The Sun proceeds unmoved
To measure off another Day
For an Approving God.

Picture

​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


Apparently with no surprise
In an unhappy Hour
The Clock alarms as if at play –
With monumental power –
I press upon the Snooze Alarm –
Then slowly start to move
To measure off another Pot
For an Approving Cup.

FEBREWARY 16
By Emily Dickinson:

A prompt – executive Bird is the Jay –
Bold as a Bailiff's Hymn –
Brittle and Brief in quality –
Warrant in every line –

Sitting a Bough like a Brigadier
Confident and straight –
Much is the mien of him in March
As a Magistrate –
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

A hot – imperative Brew is the Joe –
Bold when filled to the Rim –
Brazen and Brash ferocity –
To Waken life and limb –
 
Sipping the Brew like a Brigadier
Confident and straight –
Much of the blend for me each Morn
As I Activate –



FEBREWARY 17

​By Emily Dickinson:

Few, yet enough,
Enough is One
–
To that ethereal throng
Have not each one of us the right
To stealthily belong?
Picture

​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Few get enough,
Never Enough –
Of the imperial brew
Have not each one of us the right
To selfishly accrue? 

FEBREWARY 18

​By Emily Dickinson:


Glory is that bright tragic thing
That for an instant
Means Dominion –
Warms some poor name
That never felt the Sun,
Gently replacing
In oblivion –

Picture

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Morning is that bright tragic thing
That in an instant
Means new Frontiers
Warm some rich brew
That always greets the Sun,
Gently awakening
Music of the spheres –



FEBREWARY 19

By Emily Dickinson:

How still the Bells in Steeples stand
Till swollen with the Sky
They leap upon their silver Feet
In frantic Melody!

Picture

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

How loud the Bells in Steeples peal
Get coffee for this Guy
I stagger on unsteady Feet
A frantic Day nearby!



FEBREWARY 20
By Emily Dickinson:

Good Night! Which put the Candle out?
A jealous Zephyr
– not a doubt –
Ah, friend, you little knew
How long at that celestial wick
The Angels
– labored diligent –
Extinguished – now – for you!

It might
– have been the Light House
       spark
–
Some Sailor – rowing in the Dark –
Had importuned to see!
It might
– have been the waning lamp
That lit the Drummer from the Camp
To purer Reveille!
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Good Morn! Who put the Coffee on?
An early Waker – not a doubt –
Ah, friend, I now can see
How much of coffee that I need
The Angels – labored with such speed –  Percolated – now – for me!

I might – have need for just some
       spark –

A Dreamer
– tossing in the Dark –
Who finally woke to see!
I might – just thank the one a lot
Who ground the Coffee for the Pot
To pour pure Ecstasy!

FEBREWARY 21
By Emily Dckinson:

I like a look of Agony,
Because I know it’s true –
Men do not sham Convulsion,
Nor simulate a Throe –
 
The Eyes glaze once – and that is
​       Death –
Impossible to feign
The Beads upon the Forehead
By homely Anguish strung.
Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

I have a look of Agony
Because I know it’s morn –
I cannot gain Propulsion,
Until I make my Joe –
 
My Eyes glaze once – I look like
​       Death –
Impossible to feign
The Grounds inside the French Press
Bring me Life again.

FEBREWARY 22
By Emily Dickinson:

The Morning after Woe –
'Tis frequently the Way –
Surpasses all that rose before –
For utter Jubilee –

As Nature did not care –
And piled her Blossoms on –
And further to parade a Joy
Her Victim stared upon –

The Birds declaim their Tunes –
Pronouncing every word
Like Hammers – Did they know they fell
Like Litanies of Lead –

On here and there – a creature –
They'd modify the Glee
To fit some Crucifixal Clef –
Some Key of Calvary –

Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

The Morning with a Joe –
‘Tis frequently the Way –
Surpasses all the Joes before –
For utter Jubilee –
 
Tho’ Morning does not care –
And piles her Problems on –
Go further to prepare a Joe
The Potion counted on –
 
The Clock declares Alarm –
Pronouncing every blast
Like Hammers – Do they not know I’ll
Drink Potables of Lead –
 
And here and there – the caffeine
That modifies my Glee
To give some Beneficial Lift –
For Coffee is the Key –
 

FEBREWARY 23
By Emily Dickinson:

I lived on Dread –
To Those who know
The Stimulus there is
In Danger – Other impetus
Is numb – and Vitalless –
 
As 'twere a Spur – upon the Soul –
A Fear will urge it where
To go without the Sceptre's aid
Were Challenging Despair.


Picture
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

I live on Brew –
For don't I know
The Stimulus there is
In Danger– Other beverages
Are numb – and Vitalless –
 
It is a Spur – upon my soul –
And Fear will urge me where 
To go without my Morning's aid
With Challenging Despair


FEBREWARY 24

​By Emily Dickinson:


Too few the mornings be,
Too scant the nights.
No lodging can be had
For the delights
That come to earth to stay,
But no apartment find
And ride away.
Picture

​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


Too fast the mornings come,
Too scant the nights.
My longing can be had
From the delights
That brew at the café
With animation found
I ride away.

FEBREWARY 25

By Emily Dickinson:

Back from the cordial Grave I drag thee
He shall not take they Hand
Nor put his spacious arm around thee
That none can understand

Picture

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Back from the nightly Grave I’m dragging
I shall but take my Joe
And put delicious warmth inside me
To join the life I know


FEBREWARY 26

By Emily Dickinson:

Morning – is the place for Dew –
Corn – is made at Noon –
After dinner light – for flowers –
Dukes – for Setting Sun!

Picture

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Morning
– is the time for Joe –
Cups – are served at Noon –
After dinner time – it’s decaf –
Or – no Sleeping Soon!

FEBREWARY 27

​By Emily Dickinson:


To make a prairie it takes a clover
​       and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
Picture

​By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


To make me lively it takes a Coffee
​       and one cup,
One coffee, and a cup,
And energy.
The energy alone will do,
If cups are few.

FEBREWARY 28

​By Emily Dickinson:


The most important population
Unnoticed dwell,
They have a heaven each instant
Not any hell.

Their names, unless you know them,
'Twere useless tell.
Of bumble-bees and other nations
The grass is full.


Picture

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

The most important percolation
Essence and smell
Provides a heaven each instant
Not any hell.
 
They’re vain, unless I know them,
’Tis truth to tell.
I bumble until I have knowledge
The cup is full.



Want to drink up more of Dickinson's coffee poetry?  Click the buttons below!
2013: 1st Cup
2014: 2nd Cup
2015: 3rd Cup
2016: 4th Cup
2017: 5th Cup
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