Julius Meinl is not only a coffee brand, but the ambassador of the coffee- and the Wiener culture. This way their coffee is know to have been an inspiration for artists around the globe. Drinking coffee in Wien or in Budapest was a kind of a cultural act, and the famous coffee houses were meeting points for the artists, the sponsors and the art-lovers. Some of these coffee houses are still working, and some even joined the pay with a Poem movement, for example Gerbeaud or Vigadó. In the freshly opened book-coffee, Magvető the customers can also pay with poems.

Takács Péter, the head of the Hungarian Julius Meindl told artnews.hu, that they find important reminding people, that some things can not be purchased with money is important, and that sharing a part of you, a part of your art or thoughts through poetry is essential.

How does it work? If you walk into the selected shops, you have to take a piece of paper and write a poem on it. It can be a famous quote or an own writing as well. Handle it to the cashier instead of money and enjoy your delicious coffee.

For the list of the cafes joining the movement, visit the Hungarian Facebook event.

Poetry bridges through time and distance: by capturing the depth of the human soul, it connects us all, whoever we may be, however we may feel, wherever we may live. Fates, beliefs, feelings and thoughts collide in a few lines only, with the throbbing rhythm of our two most hidden and valuable possessions: emotions and imagination.

William Ernest Henley: Invictus

Pablo Neruda: XVII (I do not love you…)

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Shakespeare: Sonnet 75

So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet-season’d showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As ‘twixt a miser and his wealth is found.
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then better’d that the world may see my pleasure:
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,
And by and by clean starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight
Save what is had, or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.

E. Cummings: i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

Have you ever felt like your loved one never really leaves your side but ensconce themselves into all your thoughts, feelings and actions?

„i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Walt Whitman: A Glimpse

Maya Angelou: Still I Rise

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.