Best Cafes Poems

High above the quiet, darkened streets of January, the night wind begins to whisper secrets through my apartment window casements. Far below me lie four cafes, all in sync as they awaken from daytime hibernation to begin an evening ritual of turning on lights, welcoming...

Continue reading...

January’s snow flows stealthfully through my fifth-floor apartment window, flung wide open to welcome in the new year.  The half-drawn curtains bellow with brisk salt air blowing in from the North Sea.  A distant foghorn groans in a resigned, forlorn resonance, guiding ships...

Continue reading...

Life can turn on simple decisions;
I, myself, am proof that life can even be given a start based on the same.

My father rode into Germany at the end of World War II,
His mission: to help clean up the mess that war can leave behind.
His kismet...

Continue reading...

Dear Covenant to Empower Children, Inc.

I was in a Potlatch CoHousing Cafe
just the other repair-invested day
for both ego and eco therapy.

Our host introduced
this Potlatch SkillShare event
speaking to himself:

The less I share skills and resources
on cooperative terms
of common educational PositivEnergy endeavor,

The more plutocratically powerful
anti-social logic
of private...

Continue reading...

I was off for my vacation. After a long flight and drive, I reached my cozy apartment. Stars like diamonds filled the cold January night. Exhausted I sank into my soft bed and fall fast asleep. A red roaster was my alarm clock. From my...

Continue reading...

I live in a quaint building high up on the top floor and from my apartment
window I like to watch the scene below on the wide cobbled square. On a 
cold January night the lights of four Cafés are mingling with the twinkling
of the stars...

Continue reading...

Riotous revellers' laughter drifts up from their apricot lit late night haunts, four cafes are notoriously avoided venues for overindulgent consumption of alcohol. 

 Across the street, from my thirtieth floor apartment window, remote portrait of bodies bent enthralled over their beers, 
toads on stools...

Continue reading...

Inside cooped up in my loft all autumn with writer’s block, it was time.  I arrived on New Year’s Day.  I wanted a fresh start, so I took a well-deserved hiatus.
        
Such grandeur, and glory, partaking...

Continue reading...

Chantilly lace curtains of my apartment window ripple in the cold January night. From here, I observe mooring lights that illumine the docks in this petty northern port and four cafés that lean toward one another, side-by-side, though separate and apart. I wonder at their...

Continue reading...

A long-ago January, my love and I spent a month in France. We rented a quaint
apartment up a hill from the road near a lake. The view from the window included lovely mountain flowers and grass down a path to four bar cafes, alongside each...

Continue reading...

The four cafes that bordered the water sat eerily still this January night.  I had often sat alone, looking down from my apartment window high above the narrow Canal de la Sensee, watching as their jovial patrons downed their absinthe and drowned each other...

Continue reading...

Four Cafes

Winter mists swirl up from puddles on the cobblestones blurring the names of the four cafes facing the narrow boulevard.  Townspeople and visitors walk briskly with their heads down, collars up, against January’s invading chill.

From my apartment window I gaze hypnotized as people...

Continue reading...

Four Cafe’s

It was post digestion time, 10pm ! uncomfortable bloating causing a staggering stand,supported by the apartment windows brass clasp, the torn green velvet digestion chair lilted just beneath. Nested above the Canal Madeline, perched in a loft atop hundreds of lonely books, which i...

Continue reading...

Four Cafés
------------

Four cafés were at the extreme left of what I could see from my apartment window.  There they were, sparkling in the cold night, trying to stand in for stars in the cloudy sky.  I had visited these café-bars one by one...

Continue reading...

Four Cafe’s

It was post digestion time, 6pm ! uncomfortable bloating causing a staggering stand,supported by the apartment windows brass clasp, the torn green velvet digestion chair lilted just beneath. Nested above the Canal Madeline, perched in a loft atop hundreds of lonely books, which i...

Continue reading...