Betsy Horvath

Category: Coffee

  • Love Sonnets and Coffee

    *stir, stir, stir* *sip*

    Hello, coffee.

    Hi.

    How are you?

    I’m feeling a little light.

    Hey, you don’t have a French accent today. You sound kind of…midwestern.

    No more French Roast. I’m the store brand.

    Oh. *sip* Did you know that today is the anniversary of William Shakespeare’s baptism?

    No.

    Do you care?

    No.

    I’m surprised we get along so well. *sip* Oh, now I remember why.

    silence

    I don’t suppose you would consider reading me a Shakespearean sonnet?

    silence

    Let me get this straight. You want me to read you a Shakespearean sonnet while you drink me?

    Please.

    What do you think I am?

    A consumable.

    Consumable? I’m the elixer of life.

    True. If coffee be the drink of life, drink on.

    Wow. If I read you a sonnet, will you stop mangling other quasi-Shakespearean quotes?

    Probably.

    Okay. Could you…just keep your hands to yourself for a minute while I do this?

    Oh, sorry.

    SONNET 130

    My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
    Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
    If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
    If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
    I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
    But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
    And in some perfumes is there more delight
    Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
    I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
    That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
    I grant I never saw a goddess go;
    My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
    And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
    As any she belied with false compare.

    Thank you, coffee. That was delightful. Although I do wish you would have read it with a French accent.

    You’re the one who went generic.

    But…did I hear you say that my breath…reeks?

    Only of me.

    Oh.  That’s okay then.

     

  • Coffee Talks

    Hi.

    Hey.

    Mind if I sit here?

    Go ahead.

    *silence*

    So, um, can I ask you what you’re doing in my blog?

    Sure.

    *silence*

    Soooo, what are you doing in my blog?

    Sitting.

    I can see that. Who are you anyway?

    I’m Coffee. Duh.

    Coffee?

    Yeah.

    Well, what in the heck are you doing sitting in my blog?

    Waiting.

    Waiting? For what?

    A poem. A word. Something.

    You want me to–

    I mean, I wake you up every morning. I keep you awake all day. When you don’t think you can face the world, I’m right there for you. And what do I get in return? Nothing.

    I wrote you an ode—

    Yes, you wrote an ode. Weeks ago you wrote an ode. Then nothing. No call. No note. No mention on Facebook or Twitter.

    Well, I–

    You don’t bring me flowers. You don’t sing me lovesongs. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

    But–

    All you do is take me for granted. But do I complain? No.

    Well–

    I tried to get your attention. I started ripping up your stomach from the inside. But all that did was make you turn away from me.

    Well–

    I don’t think you even SEE me anymore. I don’t think you even know I exist. I don’t think you…love me.

    You’re wrong! You’re wrong, Coffee! I know I’ve been writing poems to Social Media—

    Yes. I saw.

    –but I still love you. You know how much I love you. You know how I depend on you. You’re my best friend, my dearest companion.

    Well–

    Just…just don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone! Don’t leave me to face my old uncaffeinated self! Don’t go!

    Well–

    Please. Please don’t go…..please.

    Well…okay. If it means this much to you, I’ll stay.

    Thank you. *sob* And you won’t rip up my stomach anymore?

    I can’t make any promises. I am who I am and you have to accept me.

    Oh, Coffee. I do accept you. I do. I’ll just take antacids.

    Fair enough.

    *embrace*

    Oh, Coffee. I’m so glad we’re friends again.

    Me too. Wait. Let me add the…milk.

  • An Ode to Coffee

    Today I would like to present an Ode to Coffee. This is an expanded version of original works appearing on my Facebook page. Feel free to borrow and/or set to music.

    uh..hmm…

    An Ode to Coffee

    By Betsy Horvath

     

    O Coffee, O Coffee
    My fav-or-ite drink.
    You help me to wake,
    You help me to think.

    You help keep me sane.
    Of cups, I have seven,
    ‘Cause one sip of you,
    And I am in heaven.

    O Coffee, O Coffee,
    My fav-or-ite brew,
    I know that I’ll never
    Be quit of YEW!

    Thank you.