The Sipper’s Song (or Have we got a test today, Sir?)
Mid Winter’s Day - Ah, bitter chill it was!
For Con, with beanie pulled down close, set out
To gather bread and papers for the day
As we remained inside the cafe warm
And opened coats to shed and drape on chairs
Pulled out to give quick access to a place
From which to contemplate impressive food
And warm to jazzy noise and friendly ways.
“Ah, you!” “Good morning, how is your day?”
“Soula, a Long Tall Sally if you please!
Emily, Sia, how’s that ‘pita, any saved for me?”
A man walks in to buy a cup of tea.
He stands and rattles coins in his patient
Pocket as the grub basks in fluorescent display,
Cold, clear and inviting me to partake, to
Select, to remove and to put away.
Pies huddle in a main, lasagne lit
And mezze lie, my Spanikopita sits
Proud on comfy stool. The lettuce footlights
Frame him clear, tumble in accoutrement.
Look up and see it plated and descending
Majestical before me; a warm crisp wedge
From the wheel of life- Spanikopita!
Enjoyin’ it, my oath I am!
I kiss up each crumb from the tip of my fork
I genuflect to its creator and take
A subtle sip while downing song sublime.
It’s Groundhog Day, another moment come and gone
And you just know it’s going to get better
And you just hope it’s going to get better.
A cheerio by Bill Bowie.
The Last Drop
In the final words before the noose
Your neck tautens in apprehension,
The brown milk stirs lazily as the cup rises to your lips,
The barista stands in black behind his altar as
A shock of steam bursts like a denunciation into the air
& a line of customers stand before the chrome expresso machine,
Chaterring, polite & desperate in their sin,
The bliss of the first caffeine hit surpassing
Those more pedestrian stimulants -
(cigars & whiskey & mild mild women).
Here as the last drop falls, the biscuit breaks
Like the body of Christ on the wall in fourteen staccato images
Down through ripples of brown & white caffeine,
Swirling into redemption (until lunchtime
Rae Desmond Jones
3 November 2007
2 Responses to “Poets Cornered!”
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The poem creates a comforting picture of a cold windy winters day sitting inside the cafe watching the world go by enjoying a hot bowl of cappucino and delicious Greek food. If needing to catch up with the news events is your thing then reading the paper is what you should do, however, it is hard to go past the pleasure of a good book while enjoying the atmosphere and friendliness of the Last Drop’s hospitality. I enjoyed the poetry.
What about a poets’ afternoon once a month. It might surprise how many turn up to recite or listen or parade their own work for a receptive audience. Let me know if you go ahead, I’ll trail in from far afield.