Over his morning coffee he sat,
dreaming of yesterday’s spring
and the hill country of his youth,
remembering summers of peace
and autumn days when he thought
life a forever thing. The world lay before
him then, a ripe field awaiting harvest.
Now beside this sad cup, a winter hand,
so withered and so gray, an old man’s
hand he barely recognized as his own.
Then his gaze found her playful smile.
In the hazel warmth of her eyes he
felt like spring again, the rich loam of
her love yielding a gentle harvest of joy

© 2015, poem, Jamie Dedes; 2012, photograph, Wendy Rose Alger

WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT

So, what about your morning coffee – or tea? Tells us …

If you feel comfortable leaving your work or a link to it in the comments section, please do.  All work shared will be published on this site next Tuesday.

ABOUT THE POET BY DAY

28 Comments

    1. Ah, did you submit a poem for this prompt, Colin? FYI: Comment don’t show up right away. I have the site set so that I have to approve. That way I’m less likely to miss them.

      Like

      Reply

      1. Bit late now, Jamie, but this was the poem I sent…

        at a railway station

        a black & white handsome dog
        stands in an apparently patient manner
        by his master while he fiddles around
        with his bag on a seat on the platform

        the dog looks at me
        drinking coffee from a plastic cup
        through the window
        of the train waiting for departure

        in an apparently beseeching manner –
        when I smile he looks away as though

        he can no longer bear human emotions
        or confront the unknown or the untravelled –
        in an arcane manner of speaking

        Liked by 1 person

        Reply

      1. No worries but I did look twice this morning to see if I had overlooked it. I have been meaning to ask you if you would prefer I just put it into the comments but I am so use to just adding a link is why I do it the way I do. Have a wonderful 4th my friend. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

        Reply

  3. Day 2, over my coffee—

    The King and I

    I’m not a king who has the power
    To tweet insults every hour
    Nor do I desire to be heard
    And claim the truth is in all my words.
    If the king were to treat me nice
    Or ask for my advice
    I would not take a chance
    Under any circumstance
    To believe him as he raves and rants.
    He’s not the kind of guy
    Who’ll even try to see eye to eye.
    He does what he wants to do,
    No matter what might ensue.
    He’s a doer, not a thinker,
    I won’t swallow his yarns
    Hook, line, and sinker.
    He’s a king without social skill,
    Bullying, badgering, from the Hill.
    Rather than a model of decorum
    For all the world to see,
    He seems bent on dragging down,
    The office that represents you and me.
    To exchange barbed words from the throne,
    Destroys the boundaries between right and wrong.
    Those in power have offices to represent,
    Not used to get even with those they resent.
    June 29, 2017

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  4. I saw the post late that was shared at New World Creative Union. I have two that fit this prompt well, but were written previously. I’d have posted here, but am unsure of your rules, and if they had to be created today after the prompt was given. Am sharing links, in case anyone is so inclined to check them out.Thanks in advance if you do! http://insideoutpoetry.blogspot.com/2015/08/the-view-over-morning-coffee.html

    And a wee bit of ‘tongue in cheek’ humor…
    http://insideoutpoetry.blogspot.com/2014/06/cravings.html

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    2. By the way, Ginnie, I did read your poems. On target and beautifully done. I couldn’t get my comment to take probably because I’m on WP and you’re on blogger.

      Like

      Reply

  5. OVER MY MORNING COFFEE

    Over my morning coffee I read
    About love between john and a red
    Haired lady. I saw the pleas for
    World peace and love between jamie
    And all who follow her. And the names of
    Frank, Linda, and those who travel and explore
    food bloggers, bloaters, poets, dragons, two eyed kings
    without any cards. And more for the readers who search
    for the keys and treasures that rust and stay hidden and wait to be bidden
    to search beyond the stars. Over my morning coffee I saw the world in a new light.
    I saw a world of promise for those who are willing to stand up and fight.
    June 28, 2017

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  6. Third reponse:-

    :: these trees ::

    harrogate in the rain.

    cheap umbrella broke,

    a delightful shade of pink,

    abandoned.

    abandoned the street

    for the parlour, the crown.

    mourned my shoes, wet

    and ripping.

    dripping

    white nubuck.

    watched the trees,

    falling leaves.

    good coffee

    opposite

    the pumproom.

    harrogate.

    sbm.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  7. You are my inspiration to every so often try my hand at poetry. Your poem today is a true inspiration.

    A sweetner and a hearty dose of creamer
    await in a favorite mug,
    for the hot medium roast,
    not too strong.
    The purple porch swing awaits
    in the cool morning air
    as the eastern sun flickers through
    the tops of distant trees.

    I swing gently, cradling the mug,
    enjoying the warmth and
    the ritual a bit more
    than the coffee.
    Contemplating the miracle of
    the flow and ebb of life
    as flowers bloom and die
    in the perennial bed below.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Well done, Pat. I love the morning ritual too and this made me smile. Thank you! So, this will be published here on Tuesday. If you would send a short bio to me thepoetbyday@gmail.com and a photo if you’re comfortable with that. I always include background and link to your on the first time in response.

      Like

      Reply

  8. Such a wonderful, gentle poem, Jamie. I read it to my husband and his eyes welled up with tears – he really liked it and he isn’t a poetry kind of guy. We then had a discussion about his hands – how wonderful they are. They are the hands of an old man but they have brought so much joy to the lives of his family and friends. He is a handyman extraordinaire.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  9. Jamie…a second response

    ::coffee been ::

    i wished it had bean
    an orange cup, i wish
    there had bean beans,

    yet all were ground and
    brewed, and i have
    not bean so good
    at this one, so

    you do not need
    to like, then i will
    not need to thank
    thee.

    i feel like i bean an has
    bean, in today’s
    challenge.

    sbm.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  10. Thanks Jamie.Here is my first response:-

    ::coffee::

    can you make coffee, make
    it last two hours? can you

    talk?

    when there is solitary, when
    thoughts are enough to blend,
    when all you thought you needed
    was supplied, it takes encouragement
    to talk.

    hear yourself chat on and on
    about nothing in particular,
    or is it something, i can’t remember.

    i am not sure that talking says anything.

    really.

    learn to care.

    sbm.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  11. My third response:

    My Must

    a cup of tea first thing with breakfast.
    Later a mug of coffee. Lifts eyelids.

    Liquid brain boost. List today’s tasks.
    Mam had a cup of tea before bed, too.

    Not for me. Sleep disturbed enough.
    Earl Grey or Chai tea. Once had a bud

    in a glass cup that bloomed and infused.
    Petals gently exploded flavour stop motion

    underwater smoke spiralled below.
    Expensive but glorious wake up call.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  12. My second response:

    Decided

    She has decided everything
    must have a flat surface else it will fall

    and make a mess, small red trays for tea and coffee, big white trays for meals in

    front of the t.v., and puts vase containing his ashes above the false fireplace

    beside the clock their friends gave them for their sixtieth anniversary, below

    the picture of tumbling river aglow with pink of coming storm.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  13. My first response Jamie:

    The Gift

    Evening. Friends arrive with cake.
    All have coffee.

    They come to see part feral kitten
    abandoned by their new home’s

    owner they brought to us. She lolls
    on the bed in our spare room.

    TV is on. Candles in Berlin.
    We swap gifts. Latte glasses

    for them, cake for us.
    Laughter. Cinnamon pastry

    and walnut Christmas cake.

    TV is on. Berlin flickers in the dark.
    Time for leaving.

    Hugs and best wishes.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

Thank you!