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Ode to the Black Bean

I make a tea of chamomile
with ginger, sage and spice.
It’s green and sharp to bring a smile,
but I’ve a stronger vice.

A cold concoction percolates
on ice ~ “The Thing Soothfast”™.
Its caffeinated sweetness rates
a star, but doesn’t last.

Of course some water (if it’s cold)
can quench a heady thirst.
So bland though, it grows swiftly old
unlike the brew that’s first.

And “To the Second Power G”™
I turn at times for salt.
Electrolytes can set one free,
but this I’ll not exalt.

Cold milk and tea that’s iced I drink.
I chug~a~lug a lot.
A Wyvern™ helps my mind to think
while vodka makes a sot.

But nothing beats the Great Black Bean.
I love my coffee mug.
So toast the roast that made it green
and lets me brew my drug.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
A series of quatrains with alternating rhyme done in a tongue in cheek "ode" style. I think the only archaic word I used was "Wyvern" which is a medieval term for "Monster" (usually a dragon), hence the trademark as on two of my other favorite drinks. I must confess that though I consider this sort of thing absolute drivel, I derive a certain amount of satisfaction writing them. For whatever reason it seems to be getting easier. Could it be the people I'm hanging out with and their influence on me? I wonder. wesley
Editing stage: 


I enjoyed this witty piece, it's light verse but well handled. One caveat, black bean is the name of the bean used in chinese black bean sauce. It made the title a bit confusing.

great write wes - nothing to crit of course

ditto me too re coffee - i think my throat's been cut if there's none in the house, especially in the mornings

love judy

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

indeed. I wish this workshop will show us more of such delightful reads.
Seems that it's a shared drug,isn't ?


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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W. H. Snow

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