There's Coffee...

Cheeky Missy


That wondrous scent which welcomes dreamers ere
Its pungent fragrance subtly wafting grants
The fullness of its pleasures to advance
From odour's treasure to its debonair 
Enjoyment in its flavour's rapt'rous share;
That heady air well-known to oft enhance
Dawn, rousing sleepers by its dear romance:
Who of its faithful does not love its snare?
From connoissuers to casual drinkers, all
Quite recognize that teasing whisper's lure,
E'er dancing though unseen, o'erpow'ring call
Whose greeting charms; whose dulcet overture
Nigh promises to each in its enthrall
What sans true coffee's but a forfeiture.

# II

What sans "true" coffee's but a forfeiture?
Those masquerades with half its scent, some blent
With varied other fine aromas meant
To make it tastier thereby, allure
Unpracticed souls to that poor joke, impure
Excuses for the real treat, fraudulent
Joys oft parading with caffeine, augment
Confusion to all but the epicure.
Those handy little powders disappear
When stirred to yield a funky kind of drink,
Half touting that 'loved aura, insincere
Feints pleasing only partially, nigh hoodwink
All as the preground, canned old brands whose sphere
The whole bean, fresh-ground, makes to stink.


The whole bean, fresh-ground makes all else to stink,
As triumphing sans all perfumes; the key
T'ambrosial leisure; roasted just to free
That perfect flavour, dark or light, some think
Has hints of quite exotic touches; link
To passionate romance and piquant glee;
By subtle measures dances, symphony
Of pleasure gently creamed, makes all else shrink.
The luxury of such indulgence, aye
That's truly coffee. Redolent enchants.
Its sav'ry essence teases longing by
Each whiff, awaking sleepers from their trance
To meet its wonders, satisfied to sigh.
You never tried it? I wish all that chance.


  • Author: Chic George (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 23rd, 2012 22:51
  • Comment from author about the poem: This began by reflecting as fresh ground coffee was brewing, enchanted again by its aroma, in something very like a private mental diatribe against the powdered excuse for cappucino I had the other day. Some have said I am opinionated. The first sonnet failing to say all, it turned into a (linked) trio. If you are familiar with the Folger's slogan, do you recognize it in the first line? (No, I do NOT endorse that brand.)
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 39
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  • Muse Gong

    Deep thinking, nice sentiment.

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