Fridays in Verse: Oh coffee, my coffee

Back in 2009, my friend and I were sitting in the student center, talking about coffee.  What it lead to was this.  Yes.  This is what nerds do when they're bored. Towards the end it changes subjects to the most melodramatic Horatio Cane.

O broth transcendent of tellurian bean
Ambrosial to the forerunners of morn
That runnest happy into this canteen,
Thou aidest me thy glory to adorn!
Thy tawny substance doth the tongue enthrall
And mind to vigilance drag forcibly
When mixed with milk, cream, sugar, naught at all;
Each day do many scrounge thy purity.
Not without strife, although, is this affair -
Nor any worth indulging in the night.
Of how thy very virtue doth ensnare
Imbibers innocent, hast thou no sight?
The more this evening we our sleep postpone,
The more the next to wakefulness are prone. 

-          - M.B.       

So fine thy praises of this sacred drink
That had it never prior passed my lips,
Nor stung my nose, nor with its burning sips
Restored my sense, then should no more I think
But of its scent; its phantom taste would sink
My soul to hell; crude tea should scant eclipse
Perpetual fatigue all sleep outstrips
And tip my arid brain to Hades’ brink. 
But terrene seeds a fool might hoard as gold,
In time will prove quicksilver that no stone
Can turn—thy sole repast this potion soon. 
Perhaps thou ne’er hast born the grudge I hold
Nor sufferest thou thy love and hate be one,
But these the fiends for those who wake ‘fore noon! 

-          - C.J. 

Methinks thine allegation crafted crude
That we, whose ferries from the land of sleep
In wake of thine make berth, have not accrued
As many woes as thee, or torments deep.
Indeed, a glance beneath this falsehood's veil
Doth truth eternal to the wise disclose:
No man's acquainted more with Fate's assail
Than who clear through the morning hours may doze.
For as he doth his eyelids ope, and view
How daylight's half-elapsed, he marketh well
That sleepers-in must both the morn's work do
And work that e'er the afternoon befell.
When early-risers to their beds retire,
Their kin from academic stress perspire.

-          - M.B.       

What torments thou dost vision for thy slow-
Arising kind hath shape of light ‘round air
Entwined; for peer at first and dazzling show
The words which dredged a second glance despair. 
For at one time do thine and mine affairs
Assail our minds; what hours you toil, I keep;
Yet when canst thou admit those hours rare
When while thou workst, I lay my head in sleep? 
And morns when payments of thy freedom reap
Thy body, mine new-corpsed doth heavy fall
Upon my chair, while hours of lectures sweep
From me my time; my thoughts to slumber all. 
In time of work, our labors ne’er be twain;
‘Tis while you rest that I my suff’ring gain. 

-          - C.J. 

An acme higher now achieveth he
Who from his heav'nly post the vernal morn
Marketh than when a sonnet last was borne
Through wires electrical from me to thee.
This woe forgiven, now resume may we
Tradition, full a month ago forlorn -
Each one the other's tablet to adorn
With quadridecilinear prosody.
Befitteth it poetical pursuits
As this, howe'er, a subject firm to hold;
Where once the liquor caffeinated stood
Must yet some other case (not vain disputes)
Abide. Whatever topic doth unfold,
Embrace with smart antistrophe I should.

- M.B.        

Pretended wit, you must agree, cannot
Aspire to touch the sharpened quipper’s ear
For as a scribble in a David’s spot
A fool’s pun won’t the guise of brilliance wear.  
But to the bardic wit, you say, not all
Can reach.  For some ‘tis drama where they’ll shine
But both Melpomene and sweet Thalia fail
And grate thy list’ners with each purple line.  
Not lone, you claim, but crutched by stronger rocks
Perhaps a quartz to diamond might aspire
But ringed by setting dull and dry as talc
Of you and yours the shrewder eyes will tire. 
Horatio, you must not fail to see,
For these must claim the lowest place of three.  

- C.J. 


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