By Jimmie Aaron Kepler
The timer starts the morning pot
brewing where it greets me
at the same time my alarm rings.
The first cup hides my morning breath
as it energizes the blood flowing through my veins
enabling me to stumble to my car
and drive to Starbucks for more.
A sunrise latte gives me the pick-me-up required
to face the tollway and morning rush hour.
A generic cup of Joe at work
gives me something to hold on to
as I begin the first
in a string of meetings.
A mid-morning cup of coffee
provides the jolt to make it to noon
where a fresh cup at my favorite café awaits.
Then a mid-afternoon cup
helps me survive the challenges
before the clock announces it is 5:00
and I can leave.
A drive-by Starbucks
provides the lift
before I sit in traffic
during evening drive time.
A fresh pot greets me
along with my
after-dinner pie and ice cream.
I fill the pot with water,
add fresh grounds
and set the controls before retiring for the evening.
And the timer starts the morning pot
brewing where it greets me
at the same time, my alarm wakes me.
“Coffee” by Jimmie Aaron Kepler originally appeared in the September 23, 2013, issue of vox poetica Magazine.
Photo Source: Pixaby
Comments about Coffee and Jimmie’s poetry:
- Jean – “Jimmie! Beautifully written and all too true. I like the way you ended as you began. Thank you so much for this engaging poem.”
- Annmarie – “Jimmie Kepler writes a love poem to a rock star.”
- Brittany- “I love his story poems. He writes wonderful narrative poetry. They frequently remind me of the lyrics of a folk song.”
- Marissa – “I heard Jimmie do a reading of ‘Forever Still’ in Plano, Texas a few years ago. His poetry has the passion of the Beat Poets, the tenderness of the hippie poets, and the intellect of the renaissance man. His southern gentleman manners and charm as well as his soft, soothing, Bill Clinton like voice and pacing makes a woman dream he’s reading his magical words to just her.”
What If There Were No C’s?
What if there were no “C’s” to say with our A’s and B’s?
What if all the C’s went out on strike?
Tired of being seen by you and me as just average unlike the letters A and B.
Now here is how your life might be if out on strike went the letter C.
You begin your day with a ‘up of hot ‘offee while in your lap is your ‘urled up ‘at.
Then later you ‘ould take your dog for a walk
While wearing your favorite ball ‘ap to keep the sun out of your eyes
Unless of ‘ourse, dark stormy ‘louds filled the sky.
On to the park where the ‘hildren and ‘anines go to play
Where you li’k an i’e ‘ream ‘one bought from a man pushing a ‘art.
While sitting in the park table’s ‘hair you ‘arefully observe the ‘ars
Driving down the street wondering about the driver’s worries or ‘ares.
A gust of wind makes you need to retrieve your ‘ap that just blew off your head.
Your hair now a mess needs ‘ombed but instead of ‘ombing it the ‘ap you wear
The favorite team’s ‘ap does its job of hiding your unkempt hair.
And you let your dog lead you ba’k to the house.
Ba’k inside your ‘ondominium a box of ‘andy ‘alls your name.
The temptation is too hard to resist so you pi’k a ‘ho’olate that’s ‘herry filled
Get a ‘up of hot ‘appu’’ino and sit on the ‘ou’h.
Then into your lap jumps the ‘at and she quickly ‘urls up.
Finally, resting in his home he re’alls his manners,
And remembers to remove his ‘ap, and loves on his ‘urled up ‘at.
Now you know how it would be if there were no “C’s” to say with our A’s and B’s
Because you’ve seen how your life might be if out on strike went the letter C.
Jimmie Aaron Kepler
Written for my granddaughter Aurora
Written during November – December 2017
Note: I have had a number of people ask me to share the No C’s poem I wrote a few months back again. So, as you requested, he is “What If There Were No C’s?”
The setting was an old wood framed church house.
Built on the crest of a gently sloping tree-covered hill.
Its wood siding all faded and weather-worn.
The brass church bell for years had been still.
He walked up the hill to the church house.
With each step, old long-past years reappeared.
Soon in his mind, he could hear the congregation singing.
Then down his cheeks streamed the warm, wet tears.
Once again, the old song leader was his grandpa.
His young Mama on a pump organ played.
Packed on the third pew were his mischievous boy cousins.
Standing by the back door to the music his dear daddy swayed.
And old remembrances flooded his being.
A grand family reunion was well underway.
Hearing again the stories of King Jesus,
He couldn’t hold the tears at bay.
Then he moved from the little wooden church house.
Walked down the hill on the path just ahead.
The music and memories slowly fading in the distance.
He arrived at a cemetery with the graves of his family long dead.
There will be a great reunion in heaven in the future,
They’ll all be reunited one wonderful day.
They were all Believers in Jesus,
He’s the Light, the Truth, and the Way.
Jimmie Aaron Kepler
Picture Credit: Jarek Tuszynski / CC-BY-SA-3.0 & GDFL [CC BY-SA 3.0 or GFDL], via Wikimedia Commons