The Brewer | |
181 | A brewer spends about a month |
perfecting his beer thoughts. | |
A recipe to please the mass – | |
it’s all he’s ever sought! | |
185 | Dark beers are just enjoyed by few; |
the light ones have no taste; | |
no, amber is the trendy choice, | |
so amber’s what he’ll make. | |
The maltiest of tasty beers | |
190 | has two-row as its base. |
He’ll color it with Munich grains | |
and car’mel, just a trace! | |
To bitter he’ll use hallertau, | |
then secret hops he’s grown | |
195 | will add aroma to his drink |
and make the beer his own. | |
And yeast! He can’t forget the yeast, | |
his magic little friends. | |
A hundred billion hungry lives | |
200 | will dine in great suspense. |
On brewing day he buys supplies. | |
He outlines his grand plan. | |
He weighs out grains, turns on the heat, | |
and washes tools by hand. | |
205 | He steeps the specialty malt bill |
in his five-gallon pot – | |
one hundred fifty-two degrees | |
for twenty minutes clocked. | |
The two-row extract measured out | |
210 | will make the wort grow thick. |
Now stir in the fermentables | |
until they’re nice and mixed. | |
To bitter his progressing beer | |
the first hops now are due. | |
215 | The others are for flavoring |
his wonderful craft brew. | |
When sixty minutes finally pass | |
the boil will be done. | |
Then rapid cooling must take place | |
220 | lest an infection comes. |
The last step that the brewer takes | |
will be to pitch the yeast. | |
The starving little creatures dive | |
into their mighty feast. | |
225 | Two weeks go by in perfect heat; |
degrees are well maintained. | |
The airlock lets some bubbles through | |
as C-O-2 escapes. | |
Then bott’ling day arrives in haste, | |
230 | and carbonation starts. |
The amber ale will be sublime – | |
a sum of all its parts. | |
On tasting day he cannot wait! | |
He opens one with skill. | |
235 | He takes a tentative test sip |
and spits out horrid swill. | |
The taste is off, the flavor sour. | |
The yeast had made it gross! | |
A man controls so many things, | |
240 | but life acts on its own. |
Monthly Archives: November 2014
The Brewer
The Grave Robber
The Grave Robber | |
121 | One night a broken grave robber |
set out to claim his prize. | |
A mission yielding gold and gems | |
would quell his appetite. | |
125 | A newly laid archbishopric |
had lost its budding chief. | |
The funeral at noon that day | |
precludes the robber’s sneak. | |
He strapped his boots, pulled on his gloves, | |
130 | he donned his shadow mask, |
and when the clock struck 12 that night | |
he sought his greedy task. | |
The winding streets of sleepy town | |
obscured the burglar’s quest. | |
135 | A cat, he crept up to the church |
to prey on gruesome death. | |
The handle of the giant door | |
was locked by key of brass. | |
The heaven-peaked high window glass | |
140 | nor yet would let him pass. |
A secret way into the shrine | |
is known to gnostic few: | |
brave men descend to hidden depths | |
and crawl a tunnel through. | |
145 | This man raised up a sewer grate |
and shimmied down the hole. | |
He paddled to a foul rat nest, | |
brushed vermin down below. | |
Thus he revealed a secret cave, | |
150 | a fox hole to the crypts. |
He crossed into an open room | |
inhabited by lichs. | |
The ghosts of priests and holy men | |
laid tranquilly at rest; | |
155 | the tremor of their peaceful guilt |
panged lightly on his chest. | |
Continue on, the end is near, | |
step up the sacred stairs | |
and enter the impressive nave. | |
160 | Fulfill your evening dares. |
He stood before the archbishop, | |
all clad in silk and gold, | |
who lie asleep, an endless deep – | |
his flesh corrupt and cold. | |
165 | The thief knew of the saint’s great deeds, |
but naught would sway his aim. | |
The crook was focused on his task: | |
his rushed larcenous game. | |
He took the crozier and the ring; | |
170 | he took the clothes and all. |
The high and pious man laid nude | |
like Eden at the Fall. | |
Now to escape before the dawn, | |
back just the way he came! | |
175 | The robber wound back through the streets |
and to his home again. | |
That bandit never was ensnared. | |
The township’s heart was lost. | |
What started as one man’s grave sins | |
180 | came at a graver cost. |
The Biographer
The Biographer | |
61 | Biographers don’t have to write |
to paint a picture clear. | |
And that’s good news for aging men | |
whose sight fades by the year. | |
65 | An elder man sits in the park, |
a sculptor of the phrase. | |
He chisels, carves, and blows at dust, | |
unfolds a hidden face. | |
One day he sits beside two boys. | |
70 | He’s seen both kids before. |
They run around, play make-believe, | |
throw real life out the door. | |
Old man decides to join their fun. | |
He paints a world from scratch. | |
75 | All three discuss and come alive, |
their fairytale unmatched. | |
The mother of the boys stops by. | |
She walks her golden dog, | |
which storytellers turn to fey : | |
80 | a slimy pet green frog. |
And while this fam’ly laughs and plays | |
the old man spies abroad – | |
across the park he briefly sees | |
a mute ideologue. | |
85 | A lonely sight, if truth be told, |
the sole man strides away, | |
but not before he yearns to hear | |
the old man’s group’s parley. | |
Biographer then starts to craft | |
90 | that young man’s sorry tale: |
a life of outside note taking | |
devoid of zest, just stale. | |
The story formed in old man’s head, | |
a plan develops quick. | |
95 | He waves goodbye to boys and dog, |
and heads off with a skip. | |
Next day the stealthy old man waits | |
until he spots his prey. | |
Then he confronts the thinker man, | |
100 | who plainly shies away. |
“Tell me what you’re thinking, sir. | |
Please share with me your thoughts.” | |
But ponderer, as you might guess, | |
just answers he will not. | |
105 | “Oh come now, sir, don’t steal your mind. |
Please, any thought will do.” | |
The young and thoughtful target says: | |
“No one’s as strange as you.” | |
At this the old man has his in, | |
110 | a gauntlet, if you will. |
He spins out tales of modern knights, | |
and stranger men yet still. | |
The younger man snaps at the bait. | |
A conversation blooms. | |
115 | The men compare the men they know, |
each detail well-exhumed. | |
Biographer’s plan did succeed. | |
The two men speak at ease. | |
A thought alone cannot do much | |
120 | But shared, it’s limit-free… |