Its not literal.


Coffee Mug

I don't know how to start this book, without my mug.

Should the love story tell details about a kiss, or hug?

My coffee will sooth me, unleashing my thoughts.

For an odd reason, I'm nervous, my stomach, full of knots.

I need my brewed, to engine my thinking,

I need to get my pencil shrinking.

If I do not write this book, I'll have no reason to live,

But without my coffee, I can't write, I have nothing to give.

So please let me get my coffee, before my thought is lost,

I'll do anything, at any cost.

I need to feel the heat, run down the inside of my neck,

I would love just a sip, just a peck.

In my waiting time I'll sit and wait,

I'll read my past pieces, and them, I will hate.

I'll sit and listen to great numbers of songs to help the mood,

Please grant my wish, I do not mean to be rude.

I'm not even asking for sugar and cream,

God, please shine me a sunbeam.

I need it, I need it, I'm crying for pity,

I alone, stare at the lights of this city.

So please, let me have my coffee, I don't want to repeat,

This paper is my life support, help me reach the last sheet.




Poetry by Paulie Casper
Read 454 times
Written on 2007-03-26 at 23:51

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