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What If Emily Dickinson Loved Coffee More Than Bees?
ruthbuchanan.substack.com

What If Emily Dickinson Loved Coffee More Than Bees?

A totally normal use of my time.

Ruth
Oct 29, 2021
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What If Emily Dickinson Loved Coffee More Than Bees?
ruthbuchanan.substack.com

American poet Emily Dickinson wrote over 1,700 poems focusing on the themes of love, nature, time, life, death, and eternity.

Also bees.

But what if she'd loved coffee more?

Here’s how I imagine her poems would have gone.


I'll tell you how the brew perked—

A dribble at a time,

The sweet stream rose like fragrant mists,

The tears of joy, they ran.

My brain untied its bonnet,

Its battle all but won,

As I said softly to myself,

"The coffee pot's begun!"

How much I drank, I know not.

I just know that my smile

As eagerly as a young girl's

Was beaming all the while

Till when my cup was drained and dried

Then sunlight leeched to gray.

I set down my now-empty mug

And softly stole away.


The coffee's not afraid of me,

I know its every drip;

The pretty people in the shop

They watch me, sip by sip—

Lattes laugh louder when I come—

The mochas madder play.

Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?

Wherefore, O summer's day?


I lost a Mug the other day!

Has Anybody found?

You'll know it by the lovely cream

That I have swirled around

A Rich man—might not notice it—

Yet—to my frugal Eye,

Of more Esteem than Ducats—

Oh find it—Sir—for me!


The Brain, within its Groove

Runs evenly—and true—

But once it Decaf serve—

'Twere easier for you—

To put a Current back—

When Floods have slit the Hills—

And copped a Turnpike for Themselves—

And trodden out the Mills—


My carafe's wider than the Sky—

For—put them side by side—

The one the other will contain

With ease—and You—beside—

My carafe's deeper than the sea—

For—hold them Blue to Blue—

The one the other will absorb—

As Sponges—Buckets—do—

My carafe's just the weight of God—

For—Heft them—Pound for Pound—

And they will differ—if they do—

As Syllable from Sound—


Caffeine—is Memory—awake—

Her Parties all astir—

A Presence of Departed Acts—

At window and at Door—

Its Past—set down before the Cup

Delighted with this Brew—

Perusal—to facilitate—

And help Belief to break through—

Decaf is cureless—the Disease

Not even God—could heal—

Let's cancel distribution

Of this Ultimate Raw Deal—


Have you had a chance yet to pick up my most recent release, Socially Awkward: Pressing Through Discomfort to Engage Tough Topics? If not, you can take this chance to order in hardback, paperback, or e-book.

If you have read it, thank you so much! Would you spare a few minutes to post an honest review? Even just a few sentences and stars can go a long way toward helping other readers determine whether this book is right for them.

Thanks!

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What If Emily Dickinson Loved Coffee More Than Bees?
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