[stylist] Poem - "Ode to Coffee" - Final Draft (Maybe)

[Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter]

Jackie,

I do not know all the ins and outs of this, nor do I know if it can be
corrected, but I know that when copying and pasting from one type of
document into another, say Word into Outlook or RTF, some formatting can
change. Something about the transmitting process, grin.

Bridgit

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Jackie
Williams via stylist
Sent: Friday, July 10, 2015 1:49 PM
To: 'Writers' Division Mailing List'
Cc: Jackie Williams
Subject: Re: [stylist] Poem - "Ode to Coffee" - Final Draft (Maybe)

Bill,
Will you please write out your last name for me. I cannot find it in your
e-mail.
Your evented words totally inspire me. My poetry teacher often assigns a
random word poem to us, and we have to pass a dictionary around, each one
pointing to a word and we have to use it in a poem. We can take a few
liberties after it is done, but we must address the word in some way in the
poem.
Your poem inspired me to do the same using some of your unusual words and
phrases, to write whatever came to mind. 
Please keep in mind that when I do a cut and paste, the italic feature
usually does not work, and often the format is changed. I do not know how to
change this. So I will attempt to attach it also.
I hope you take this effort as a compliment as that is what it is meant to
be. I could never come up with as original words as you always effortlessly
seem to do. 
Needless to say, My morning mug of coffee breaks all of my rules for
Barrett's Esophagus, but I have it anyway. And perhaps one or two more
during the day.

A Random Word Poem
after Bill

Instead of randomly picked from the dictionary, these words and phrases are
from a poem about coffee, by Bill  

font, wizard  sun, mystic kiss, starlike, lightning now, shockwitch, ever
devil, bejazzed, lying skag, hags of drain, prayed your rosy beans,
begetting thusly printed suns, novels raining sane, on desert dire fire,
weaving weird unlikely,  sage, somber dreams

A Circle of Survival
	after Bill M________
	"An Ode to Coffee
My fruitful font is for the blind,
depending on that mystic sun,
imagined Wizard's kiss.
It chases shockwitch, ever devil
that otherwise pursues my every day.

I praise your rosy beans of thought,
begetting thusly printed poems.
But night will come with bejazzed dreams, lying skag, and hags of drain.
Lightning now yet  starlike comes.
Poems raining sane, on desert dire fire, are weaving weird unlikely  sage.

But not before that steaming cup
of acid biting brew, as black as an Eritrean escaping his own war-torn
night.
My oft-drained cup releases soggy dreams, vibrates the visions for this
coming day.


Jackie Lee

Time is the school in which we learn.
Time is the fire in which we burn.
Delmore Schwartz	 


-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William L
Houts via stylist
Sent: Friday, July 10, 2015 9:28 AM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Cc: William L Houts
Subject: [stylist] Poem - "Ode to Coffee" - Final Draft (Maybe)






Good Morning, Gang,

Here's a poem I wrote maybe two years ago.  It makes sense, I think, in 
an abstract sort of way.  It's clearly what the title says, but there's 
a lot of word play and general hijinks here, and some readers may come 
away ready to light torches, leash some dogs and lead a party to burn 
down my castle.  That's all right, I'm used to it, ha.

--Bill


---

*Ode to Coffee *

Steaming font of wizard  sun;

Black, you bring this mystic kiss

of starlike lakes, you lightning now,

shockwitch full of morning bless!

You shake us clean of soggy dreams,

those fleas, those frogs from ever devil

jungle night. This  song I write

bejazzed with juices dark and wild

though milder than your cokes, your cakes

of lying skag, those hags of drain.

Balzac, frantic, prayed your rosy beans,

begetting thusly printed suns,

his doctor novels raining sane

on desert dire fire minds:

we follow suit, weaving weird unlikely,  sage.

while time pursues, that perfect hound:

behold a poem, a prayer, a page!







-- 


"Oh, Sophie!  Whyfore have you eated all de cheeldren?"

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