Historical Coffee Poetry…

Writing a blog on the history of coffee!! :)

greenstreetroasters

In all honesty and fairness, I set out to write a blog on the history of coffee. A bit ambitious perhaps, but I will decide how to best approach it and look for that soon! I have been reading alot of books on coffee including two rare copies that I have from William Ukers (printed in the 1890’s). The guy was a huge coffee historian and buff

For now, their is a poem that I came across written in 1587 by Sheik Ansari Djezeri Hanball Abd-al-Kadir. Yes, that is the guys whole name! You really can’t make this stuff up. In any case maybe such long name instilled a way with words upon the young Sheik. Enjoy!

Oh Coffee, you dispel the worries of the Great, you point the way to those who have wandered from the path of knowledge. Coffee is the drink of the friends of…

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Famous Rejection Letters

Cristian Mihai

letterFor any aspiring writer, a rejection letter, regardless of the provenience of said letter, is one of the most dreaded of objects. In this line of work getting rejected is considered a sort of literary murder – people are knowingly destroying something you’ve spent time on, and a lot of it. But the thing is everyone got rejected, more or less. I can think of very few instances when writers found publishers/agents from the first try. Or the second, or the tenth.

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How Do you Kill a Monster without Becoming One….

A Writer's Life

As the story told itself, it switched around some on the actual prompt, but that’s okay. I let it go where it wanted to go. Let the speaker use his own voice which is nothing like mine. And nothing like my normal writing. But it was fascinating to watch the words flow.

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It ain’t easy.  That much is for sure.  Been a long time since I killed anything but back in the day….. yeah…. back in the day…..

It came for me when I was 15.  Thought I was tough then, I did.  Big swagger as I walked down the street.   Tough words.  Angry words.  Ugly words.  Funny how when you’re young you think those things make you tough.  Don’t take me wrong.  I was a scrapper.  I’d been in any number of street fights.  All my life.  Thought that made me tough, too.  How little I knew.

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