If you could just
Have simply sat,
And not go lust
For this and that,
The siren's song
Would be ignored,
And 'fore too long,
That drink you poured,
Would have been drunk,
That sweet brown drink,
Instead it's junk
Down the kitchen sink.
(I'm a poet who doesn't know it...ha ha!)
Chag Sameach!
Linda
(Who is expecting to enjoy the poetry section of her literature class immensely, although I can only
really remember only two entire poems off by heart: "In Flander's Fields,"
and "Think, Said the Robin"! OY! Why do I admit such things?)
> and here is the REAL cocoa poem:
>
>
> LAMENT FOR COCOA
>
>
> John Updike
>
> The scum has come
> My cocoa's cold.
> The cup is numb
> And I grow old.
> It seems an age
> Since from the pot
> It bubbled beige
> And burning hot-
> Too hot to be
> Too quickly quaffed
> Accordingly
> I found a draft
> And in it placed
> The boiling brew
> And took a taste
> Of toast or two
> Alas. Time flies
> And minutes chill
> My cocoa lies
> Dull brown and still
> How wearisome!
> In likelihood,
> The scum, once come,
> Is come for good.
>
>
>
>
