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

[Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter]

Aw, thanks. Sunny and hot, hot, hot here. Reaching 97 and humid. A wonderful
Midwest summer, LOL! I'm on my way out nonetheless to soak up some rays.
Lathered on the sunscreen, now ready to be melted like butter, grin.

Bridgit

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William L
Houts via stylist
Sent: Saturday, July 11, 2015 12:58 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Cc: William L Houts
Subject: Re: [stylist] Poem - "Ode to Coffee" - Final Draft (Maybe)

HI Brigit,

Thank you, Madame.  You're a ray of sunshine on what is here on the Puget
Sound a grey overcast day.


--Bill



On 7/11/2015 9:59 AM, Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter via stylist wrote:
> Bill,
>
> Nice job. In particular, I like the following lines:
>
> Steaming font of wizard  sun;
> Black, you bring this mystic kiss
> of lying skag, those hags of drain.
> behold a poem, a prayer, a page!
>
> Bridgit
> _______________________________________________
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> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William L
> Houts via stylist
> Sent: Friday, July 10, 2015 11:28 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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