Bud the Teacher

Inquiry & Reflection for Better Learning

Main menu

Skip to primary content
Skip to secondary content
  • Home
  • About
  • Get in Touch

Post navigation

← Previous Next →

NPM 2010: Prompt 24

Posted on April 24, 2010 by Bud Hunt

Cocoon
Creative Commons License photo credit: moriza #

Just one cup. #

Google+EvernoteEmailWordPressRead It LaterInstapaperShare
This entry was posted in Poetry, Writing by Bud Hunt. Bookmark the permalink.
Logging In...

Profile cancel

Sign in with Twitter Sign in with Facebook
or

Not published

CommentLuv badgeShow more posts

  • 4 Replies
  • 4 Comments
  • 0 Tweets
  • 0 Facebook
  • 0 Pingbacks
Last reply was 655 days ago
  1. Kevin Hodgson
    View 656 days ago

    Your coffee grows cold
    in the silence of the morning,
    with thoughts sweeping away the night air
    as you ponder which words may push you forward
    into the day.

    http://vocaroo.com/?media=vMSmujoYh8RaJ86eo

    Reply
  2. Kelly
    View 655 days ago

    before I write my poem, here’s a song from a favorite kids’ singer Ralph Covert:

    M-O-M-M-Y needs C-O-F-F-E-E
    D-A-D-D-Y- needs C-O-F-F-E-E
    I love my kids, I love my kids, gosh I love my kids.
    But I need, what I need and I need a lot
    is C-O-F-F-E-E
    I want a latte, a cappuccino, and tonight I think I’ll have a little vino!

    Reply
  3. Kelly
    View 655 days ago

    Amazing, haven’t done/tried any RHYMING poetry….

    Cup and saucer full of joe,
    have a cup then go go go!
    Add no sugar, a little cream,
    my first sip is a morning dream.
    Gotta be hot, gotta be strong,
    gotta last the whole day long.
    Maybe just one pour more
    before we head out for the door.
    Start the day with some caffeine,
    thankful for the coffee bean.

    Reply
  4. Kevin Hodgson
    View 655 days ago

    (A few years ago, when my middle son was not very old, I wrote this poem about a conversation we had one morning as I sipped my java. I still like it.)

    Existential Cup of Coffee

    I listen
    The door whispers open
    As the dog on the floor levitates
    head cocked, eyes locked
    she hesitates
    Slam!
    Everyone slumbers on but me
    And my little dromedary
    Who moves on a lumbering pace
    Step
    by step
    by step
    Descending down
    Clutching soft comfort creatures in his hand
    And demands:
    “Water, please!”
    Curly hair all tangled up in crazy mazes
    Deep thoughts flicker across the four-year-old face
    As he gulps down his glass
    And comes to life.
    His eyes reach out for mine
    “Dad,” he asks,
    a thought burrowed down
    emerging like a desert toad awakened by the rain,
    “Did God create God?”
    And so the day begins
    With a jolt
    As we sip this existential cup of coffee.

    Reply
Proudly powered by WordPress