Mock Epic: The Caffeinated Crusade Poem by ashok jadhav

Sing, O Mug, round-bellied witness of the dawn,
Of ancient feud brewed hot in mortal throats,
When Tea and Coffee clashed for morning rule
And steam like war-smoke filled the trembling air.
In kitchens small yet vast as Ilium's plain,
The factions formed before the sun had sworn.
On one side stood the leaves of gentle grace,
Green, black, and oolong—aged in patient tins,
Their banners calm, their fragrance soft as peace,
Their elders murmuring of health and time.
Opposed them rose the Beans of darker might,
Roasted and ground like armor cracked by flame,
Sharp-scented, bold, intolerant of sleep,
Whose bitter bite woke cities into law.
They boasted speed, immediate command,
And mocked the leaf for steeping slow and weak.
The kettle shrieked—the trumpet of the gods.
Water, clear river of impartial fate,
Was seized by both and heated past its calm.
Cups assembled, white as anxious ranks,
While spoons lay ready, double-edged with clink.
Tea spoke first, in measured, ancient tone:
"I offer warmth, reflection, steady thought.
I soothe the heart, I heal the fraying mind.
Through me, empires pause and poets breathe."
The Beans replied with thunder in the jar:
"I conquer fog, I drive the day to work.
Through me, the late arrive on time at last.
I fuel the wheels of progress—kneel or sip."
The water fell. The battle truly joined.
Leaves unfurled like scrolls of secret spells;
The powder bloomed, a storm of dark delight.
Milk intervened—treacherous neutral force—
Sugar defected, pleasing both and none.
At last the drinker came, grave judge of all,
Eyes red with night, allegiance yet unsure.
He tasted both—then mixed them, shocking fate,
A heresy that stunned the watching cups.
So peace was forged in compromise unclean:
Tea for the soul, and coffee for the clock.
The war sleeps on, not ended—merely paused,
To rise again with every breaking dawn.