Monday, April 09, 2007

A Coffee Poem

DAD HAS A BAD CUP OF COFFEE AT A ROADSIDE DINER….
By
Gregory K.

“This tastes like mud!” my father said.
“There should have been a warning!”
I thought there was. The menu said,
“Our coffee’s ground each morning.”


(I'm posting an original poem-a-day through April in celebration of National Poetry Month. Links to this and other poems here on GottaBook (and there are lots of others, because poetry is NOT just for April) are collected over on the right of the blog under the headline "The Poems".)

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8 comments:

Rita said...

Fantastic.

Kelly Fineman said...

Tee hee!

Disco Mermaids said...

I think I'm drinking that same coffee right now!

- Jay

Gregory K. said...

Jay, that was MY cup! And yes, it was mud. You can tell cuz the mug is now dirty....

Elaine Magliaro said...

Gregory,

I guess if the coffee had been piping hot, you could have called it java lava.

Remember the woman who spilled the take-out hot coffee on herself and claimed she had "grounds" to sue?

Guru said...

My father is in a coffin, tasting mud…
Under the ground…
There were no warnings too…

Anonymous said...

Love this poem. And I think I've been to that diner!

happy said...

lol) that's nice:)
If you are interested in coffee - here are some interesting coffee facts:)