Frank Coffman is a professor, Vietnam vet, an editor and scholar of REH and other fantasy titans. He is also a published poet and renowned toper. Below is his tongue-in-cheek tribute to George Sterling's "A Wine of Wizardry". You can read the original from Sterling here:
swordsofreh.proboards.com/thread/136/swords-words-poetry?page=2A Martini of Mystery(with apologies to George Sterling)
a poem by D. Franklin Coffman, Jr. Esq.
An Epigraph:
“The account that I’ve posted…” I say, “differs from that which I will give here under oath. It was not written as news, for it is incredible, but as fiction. It may go as a part of my testimony here under oath.”
“But you say it is incredible.”
“That is nothing to you, if I also swear that it is true.”
(paraphrased from “The Damned Thing”
—with additional apologies to Ambrose Bierce)
This song I sing will be such fun!
Through this martini—number one—
I’ll sit and watch the setting sun!
And, much like Sterling, long ago,
I’ll wait for images to flow
And for a poem to greatly grow!
Into a crystal glass the cool, clear gin
I pour—Now let the poem begin!
Now Fancy, empress of the spirit realm
Takes place at inspiration’s helm,
Awakes my brain caressed by juniper berry
To strange sights seen through glass—some weird and scary
Now, through the glass and gin, there soon appears
Visions as strange as those in a Hall of Mirrors!
Sterling looked through the smooth red wine
And saw carnelian shapes divine
And sanguine images it seems
One can only meet in dreams.
Red wine is fine, but I prefer
The crystal clear of juniper.
Those little, luscious, bold-blue berries
Help us see spectral realms—and fairies!
Yes!
Juniperus Communis
Can stimulate creative bliss!
I know from tried and true experience—
While verging closer to deliriance—
That gin does more than Milton can
To justify God’s ways to man.
Now, to let the new poem flow,
I look out through the glass’s glow
And brightly-colored shapes appear.
I can’t tell if they’re far or near
But it is clear that they are blurred
‘Twill help me find the perfect word.
This martini is hermeneutic,
Delicious! and most therapeutic!
Whether served “Up” or “On the Rocks”—
Against “the heart-ache, the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to”—the martini will serve.
The ‘tini provides that extra verve!
Wine drinkers get what they deserve.
Forsooth, the recipe calls—“Vermouth!”
But I’ll divulge a solid Truth:
OLD MR. BOSTON says “1 to 1”(!!!!!)
That’s absolutely NOT good fun!
I’ve never met anyone to say
They actually drink ‘em that way.
Martini’s should be VERY dry
To put a twinkle in the eye,
Help one wild miracles to descry.
So, when I mix ‘em here’s my play—
That weak Vermouth will have no say—
I breathe across the bottle’s spout,
So vapors of Vermouth come out—
And, off a wall, they ricochét
And waft back into the martini
As magic as that of Houdini!
Olives are best—I want no twist—
(Though some the lemon can’t resist)
And there they are! The olives green
Inside, pimento’s red is seen
Like three cyclops (it must be three!)
Each skewered by Ulysses, cleverly,
To get himself outside the cave
And also his brave men to save.
There it’s working! I wax poetic
Clear is better than red’s pathetic
But—back to martini’s—another point
One must not always olives anoint.
Sometimes I’ll change up—just for funion
And trade the olive for the onion.
Gibsons are grand in their own way
The important thing: The GIN holds sway!
Let no one claim that Vodka makes
A true Martini! Heaven sakes!
And FIE! on “fruity-tinis”—“Fie!”
So let it be written! So says I!
The inventr’of such is doomed to Die.
And may the mixologist who makes
Such abominations get the shakes!
May such folk who drink, by God!
SOON lie ‘neath their apple-tini sod!
Dos Equis one famous man does sing
A fellow dubbed “Most Interesting.”
Don’t get me wrong. The amber nectar
Will ALWAYS pass with this inspector.
I love my beer at lunch or sup—
BUT I was voted “Runner-Up!”
So MY opinion should count too!
To the martini I’ll be true.
Here’s to me, and here’s to you.
Whose counting, but this is number two!
The world’s beginning to look strange
After sunset, the lights all change.
This too should help me find the spark.
Some things grow vivid in the dark!
But look! What’s that? The rising moon!
It’s weird, pale light comes none too soon
For now hobgoblins start to run
That were invisible in the sun.
The nifty thing about martinis
Is that—no matter what the genies,
The imps, the goblins, or the sprites—
As the light shifts from days to nights—
Because the drink is clear and pure,
One sees a bright untarnished blur
To Sterling, all was tinted red,
I see true-colored blobs instead.
More inspirations have I found
As, through the glass, I look around
And hold it, as I spin my head,
Before my eyes (THEY’RE likely red—
But from the inside looking out,
Not like those reds George wrote about).
This world is truly strange! I think
That elephants should not be pink!
Just think on how inspired I’ll be
With multi-tinis—Thish ish three!
And now new visions start to soar
As in the glass one more I pour
Come! Have a ‘tini, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter garment of abstinence fling!
The bird of Time has but a little way to flutter—
And Lo! The Bird is on the wing!
“Oh well the bird, bird, bird—
Bird ish the word. Oh well-a have you heard
About the bird. Papapa Oomamowmow.
The time ish now for the wine drinker
And the Pinot Noir patriot
Not to shrink from shervish to the Martini!
He that shtands it now desherves
The reshpect of man and woman!
Wow! number four’sh gone to my head.
It’sh time to drift away to bed.
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