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Poet: Carl Sandburg
Poem: 18.
Winter Milk
Volume: Smoke and Steel
- V. Mist Forms
Year: Published/Written in 1922
Poem of the Day:
Jun 10 2009
Comment 5 of 5, added on January 18th, 2013 at 7:25 AM.
IlvqVhIqXetLPgFEOeu
Marie Elena-I hereby beaeuqth you moldy grout and whiney pout; feel free to bend them to your poetic will!Andrew Kreider (again)-As a former barista, I almost wrote about coffee myself. Interesting to see our favorite brew juxtaposed with Westward expansion and the loss of native culture. I once read with horror about heroin users, who are often as addicted to the ritual as to the drug itself. The horror only grew as I prepared my morning Americano and realized I smell the fresh-roasted coffee beans, scoop them out by measure, listen for the grind, tap, measure, tap, tamp, crank, and pull my shots, exactly the same way, every single morning
Mirriam from Yugoslavia
Comment 4 of 5, added on May 27th, 2010 at 2:11 PM.
nice
ypoooooooooooo
joe from United Kingdom
Comment 3 of 5, added on May 27th, 2010 at 2:11 PM.
nice
ypoooooooooooo
joe from United Kingdom
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Comments
Marie Elena-I hereby beaeuqth you moldy grout and whiney pout; feel free to bend them to your poetic will!Andrew Kreider (again)-As a former barista, I almost wrote about coffee myself. Interesting to see our favorite brew juxtaposed with Westward expansion and the loss of native culture. I once read with horror about heroin users, who are often as addicted to the ritual as to the drug itself. The horror only grew as I prepared my morning Americano and realized I smell the fresh-roasted coffee beans, scoop them out by measure, listen for the grind, tap, measure, tap, tamp, crank, and pull my shots, exactly the same way, every single morning
Mirriam from Yugoslavia