Poets Don'T Drink Coffee

Poem By Michael Buhagiar

The tickets collected with an hour to spare,
We stopped by the Mozart Café in a shell
On the water, and took in the drinkers and rare
Miasma of fresh-roasted coffee bean smell.

“How civilized! ” she said, in a tone of approval;
And I nodded, though really not sharing her ardour.
Then a tide I called took us out through a portal
To the wind and the gathering dark and the harbour.

Unearthly rapt faces surround a fire
Where one tells under stars of a hero who lapsed
And escaped in a shower of spears with the flame.

It once heated a bowl to force ever higher
A crystal of blue and deep green, now collapsed;
And I remember her face, though more sharply her name.

Comments about Poets Don'T Drink Coffee

I loved the unusual rhyming here: abab cdcd efg efg. No notable fixed syllable count tough. And ya know... I would have to disagree... I drink litres of the stuff! (Grin!) But most the oddest of all? I always wear a crystal of blue and deep green around my neck... a Scarabee Crystal. How uncanny then, that you should write about one similar!


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