Best Coffee Shop Poems
they're in the work places
and stores downtown...
silent and quiet
blank faces
private
in groups...
they express
themselves all
freely the same
and...me not feeling
time stealing
from them
thought...
"aliens"...
the years have cleared
the unfamiliar scene
and now...i'm what had been all along...
alien...in an alien world...
now with access only to the relevant
universal intellect continuum
and this...'this invention' enables
craftsmen of the word
to furnish the world
with script and book
to read or cook...
wonderful
pass-time-planet
earth
In the coffee shop
A mistimed twist
By the barista
Caused a hissing
Coffee jet to
Ballista towards
My sister and I
Worried it would
Hit her wrist and
Give her a blister,
But fortunately
It missed her.
The manager scolded
The ham-fisted barista,
But since no-one was scalded,
He didn’t dismiss her.
I found a coffee shop where we can meet.
It’s within walking distance from your house
So you can’t complain nobody is there to drive you.
I found a coffee shop where we can meet.
It’s small and secluded, away from public eyes
So you won’t have to worry of paparazzi swarming.
I found a coffee shop where we can meet.
Its coffee and hot chocolate are reasonably priced
So don’t you tell me you can’t afford them.
I found a coffee shop where we can meet.
It does have a power socket, so you can bring
Your laptop if your work is really that urgent.
I found a coffee shop where we can meet.
(And don’t play dumb for I know that you know
Where to find it.)
So don’t make me sit here alone forever, honey:
Watching the sky weeps—for the warmth of coffee
Will never be enough to keep me company.
As the sun breaks upon the horizon
they open the doors
and soon it starts to fill.
Farmers, hunters, and every day people
fill the seats as the waitress pours.
Some share their stories
others tell rumors .
All here for a cup of coffee
and a hot breakfast.
Today I went out
The instant I first saw him
So caffeinated..
Thirty five years ago I met a man in the coffee shop.
He told me that he had been coming here for thirty five years.
I smiled at him and said really?
That was my first time.
Thirty five years later I am still here in the coffee shop.
Today I spoke to a young man.
I told him I had been coming here for thirty five years.
He smiled at me and said really?
This was his first time.
Would you like to go to the coffee shop?
Where the smell of damp fills the nose,
As rain outside starts to shatter like dancing glass,
Leaving darkened stains on dampened clothes.
Would you like to go to the coffee shop?
With frosty hands that puncture from warmth,
Sniffling noses relaxed from fog,
Quavering shivers that slice through coats.
Would you like to go to the coffee shop?
Since roasted aromas fill the box,
Slurping echoes through the empty air,
Creaking vibrating from half broken chairs.
Do you remember that coffee shop?
The one where we first touched our cracked up lips,
You slipped right through my fingertips,
Dropped the cup as you whispered goodbye…
… like our favourite coffee, how bittersweet.
A man came into the coffee shop
He sat there all alone
Ordered just a cup of joe
He had no telephone
He seemed content and even nice
But had not one electronic device
No computer or Laptop or even a book
I think he might be some sort of crook
Clearly he’s creepy or maybe a rat
Because after all, who does that?
There! a newsstand!
Inside, where that man stands.
Nobody stops for magazines
he's owing for your glance.
He loves the print on paper,
and a craving for it's smell.
A broken soul dealt hands
of cards misfortuned you can tell.
Well,
years passed.
His stand? the same.
That old lady stopped to browse,
but at home she left her change.
Seemingly sad,
So she buttoned up her coat
And whistled toward the street
for that ride to fly her home.
“Just a minute ma'am.”
He smiled, showing teeth.
“My morning traveled customer
take that tabloid there, it's free.
I’ve had this stand for years
and they never saw the sign”
-Corner Newsstand: My gift! You don’t have to pay a dime-
I am waiting in line at a coffee shop when I feel a vibration in my pocket. It captures me, and my hand shoots down, like a slug out of a twelve gauge, instinctively. When the curse has passed, I look around. Everyone is staring at their hands with their necks bent down, like a flock of flamingos. I can see their pink leaving them, being sucked out of their feathers, leaving them black.
Once we didn't need this things, and we wanted more then this meaningless robotic life. We used to connect with each other, and not the wifi. we would talk and really LOL and JK. We would read Tolstoy, not tweets, we watched plays, not six second vines. But cleverness and the need for simplicity changed that. We burry our heads in the dirt like a scared ostrich and refuse to see that our world has become violent, greedy, and sick. The small, delicate things that make up life go unnoticed, and we pretend we are happy.
once again i feel the vibration in my pocket, but I manage to fight the urge. i’m overtaken by my senses, I can hear the quiet brew, and the subtle smell of the dark coffee. I look around and notice another who has fought against temptation. Our eyes meet. we smile softly.
Starship Coffee Shop
Passengers in the Starship Coffee Shop
Each seated in their alloted place.
Every table a local perturbation
In the fabric of time and space
In relative isolation the travellers
Move silently through hyperspace.
Each hand held cell phone a universe,
A worm hole to another place.
Barry Stebbings
10/08/2017
Is this a poem? -- I'd say so!
Near my home, convenient, clean
and comfy. Very low prices.
Varied delicious specials.
Slogans artistically painted
in strategically located spots --
poetic samples of our regional
colorful cuisine and culture:
"I like my cafecito with a little chisme"
(I like my coffee with a little gossip);
"Y la dieta?" (And the diet?)
and near the register, another:
"Hay que empezar el dia con
HUEVOS,*
frijoles, chilaquiles, y cafe"
(You have to start the day with
EGGS,
beans, chilaquiles, and coffee).
At the exit, beside the door:
"Si acabas de llegar bienvenidos,
y si ya se vas vuelve pronto"
(If you have just arrived welcome,
and if you are already going
come back soon!)
An important part of home.
At this location since 1984.
Friendly and familiar.
Puro poesia. Pure poetry.
*"con huevos", here has double meaning
men used facilities at Starbucks
but staff took an offence at their looks
policemen were called out
arrested without doubt
now staff being referred to guide book.
Prefece:
You're sitting alone at the bar of the coffee shop and you've got the usual.
black decaf latte, today's newspaper, and that pen that smears blue ink.
It’s the same every night, that's why you come back. Monotony is relief.
The only move you've made in what seems like hours was to refill your drink.
Coffee Shop:
You stare at the latte like you’re about to open a gift.
Lifting the cup high, your lips sip the heavy cream.
Tired eyes watch the frosted window and the drift
that carries the uninvited snow effortlessly past you.
The room behind you is burning loud with conversation;
The same arguments, theories, solutions
It's a sickness stuck in the same old rotation.
Like hopeless addicts, they fiend for absolution
There’s talk of Plato’s cave that shrouds enlightenment.
Others discuss Gandhi’s hidden path to the same effect.
They repeat wise men’s words in circles they invent,
leaving what’s more than a hint of ignorance to detect
The sun sets and you're blinded by a glare as you look to the skyline,
the light glows as it sits atop the trees; you look down with a sigh.
Through the window you catch the eyes of a battered man, the look of isolation and despair intertwined.
The man’s face, streaming with tears, tells a story of one too many goodbyes.
What difference does this man make, which he is or what he needs?
You’ve seen it all before; a different movie, the same old theme.
Plus, the tilt of his head and pain in his eyes speak for him of his own misdeeds
Your stare stays locked as you say out loud, “things are always what they seem.”
You have a heavy feeling bring a question that stays planted in your mind
You wonder now if you walk the very path that hollowed this man's eyes.
The thought turns into voices, the words they say are all entwined.
Getting louder now, the more you try to block them out, the more they intensify.
-Jackson Kilgrow
rantedtirades.blogspot.com
That day in the coffee shop, was that you?
I sat in the corner, sipping coffee, they say, they best brew.
Amidst many unknown faces only yours I knew.
The descent of the reminiscing rain of million memories, it seemed to cue.
You were oblivious of my presence over there.
Or maybe you knew, but you wouldn't care.
The movement of your lips while you spoke with your friend.
And that amiss smile at your friend potrayed everything you couldn't mend.
Those innocent expressions and that child like behaviour.
To be equally carefree and to laugh heartily is all that I endeavour.
And those dangling hair seemed to follow your every move, so graceful.
Those glistening eyes seemed to be a window to your soul, so beautiful.
The moment stopped for me as you stood to leave and searched for your coat.
A strange fear gripped my heart as a lump formed in my throat.
Is it that, I've really faded into the oblivion? I reflect.
Apart from that smile everything seemed so perfect.
Spilling my coffee, I half-stood on my place.
As you turned your back on me and to the main door you started to pace.
Then you did something leaving me eternally satisfied.
You looked at me, winked and smiled.
The smile which wasn't amiss anymore.
The one, which only I deserved forevermore.
Gone were you, seeing me smile too.
No, you hadn't forgotten, that I love you.