For years, I'd write a poem every day. Taking my first sip of coffee this morning, I recalled writing an "ode to coffee", and did a search of my documents. I discovered I've written at least four coffee poems, and given it an "honorable mention" in many other writings. Here's the one I was looking for, though.
(c) copyright May 22, 2003
Who figured how to make a brew
To cheer one so, when the day is new?
Who, in Africa, munched a bean
And felt effects of the drug, caffeine?
I’ve read that a man was herding sheep:
They ate the berries, and couldn't sleep.
Then monks found out they'd stay awake
If they took a little "coffee break".
Turks were the first to brew the drink
That cheered the heart, and helped them think.
Then Arabs took it for their own:
Its taste and powers became world-known.
Here's to coffee, much maligned...
But a boon to man- (and woman-) kind.
When it's hard to rise and greet the dawn,
The thought of coffee leads me on.