Best Espresso Poems
We are not your average - coffee shop and deli.
Here the atmosphere is happy - and the owners are friendly!
We can start you out with coffee - or something else if you desire.
Our goal is to please you - so are standards are much higher!
We have breakfast items - and yes we have lunch too!
Both are served throughout the day - no reason to be blue.
We're working on new items - to tempt your taste bud.
You don't have to continually settle - on other people's crud!
We have many tasty flavors - so you can mix and match.
Keep your hands on that drink - someone it may try to snatch!
We even have milk shakes - and they bring such delight!
They can turn your day around - and make you feel all right!
We're located on Francis and Lidgerwood - across the street from Double Eagle
Pawn.
So quit procrastinating - don't allow your palate to constantly Yawn!
Take out or delivery - whatever is your pleasure!
It would be a real mistake - to miss out on this fantabulous treasure!!!
Footnote: This quaint little (Old Pals) Espresso and Deli is in Spokane Washington. Current Hours of Operation are: 7:00 AM - 6:00 PM 7 days a week.
Addendum: They have closed the location I wrote about and do not know if they have reopened elsewhere or not. Was sorry to see them go.
Oh, Espresso, we praise you!
We kneel before the machine.
In awe of this ambrosia, this caffeine!
Oh, Espresso, giver of life, conqueror of sleep—
Our saviour at midterms when we must dig deep.
Oh, Espresso, our morning star, and afternoon routine,
Almighty, omnipotent, sacred bean!
“Boom Boom – Double Espresso”
Boom boom – double espresso
mourning morning
dark nights light me up
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Goa PsyTrance Open Your Third Eye Mix
https://youtu.be/xk4hxxq-sKE
Dipped cookies break off
The last sip of espresso
Is sweet and thicker
Espresso
Brewed hot to be sipped
By and by
Red blue ball does this is how I press out as a yellow cat the clock kicks about as an Englishmen fishing in a drought purple circle bounces how to pronounce pounce expression’s bored like straw lines cast in the perfect angle time stands still
Thy lips of espresso gold,
convey to me,
your desperado untold.
Thine eyes for your own,
merriest of forbidden
pleasures,
to hold.
Your supple smile upon
thine own,
reveal.
Amidst only
to conjure,
to conceal.
Parlay, if I may,
to implore
the keenest sense
of your fulfillment,
I adore.
Gently now, our merriment. . .
embarking upon salutation.
No more our desire,
of infatuation?
Ever easy endow
Nurture next niche now
Poignant pleasing proof
Timely tasty truth
Coffee cuppa choice
Pickup piquant poise
Warm wavy whiffs whirl
Sample sensuous swirls
Bitter brown brew bites
Cocoon crafty cites
Time to think today
Plot primes private play
Worthwhile words wander
Thrilling thoughts thunder
Grapple gaudy gloom
Bloom bright blossoms bloom!
Leon Enriquez
18 July 2015
Singapore
(Dedication: To my old school mates,
Class of 1971, St. Joseph's Insitution,
Singapore)
~~~~~~~~~
In a swift flow
Old times catch-up,
Three in a row
Espresso cups.
Queen Street unfurls
With simple flair,
We sit and curl
Sift old time airs.
Old days discuss
With ample wit,
A meal to buzz
As fancy hits.
Two score and six
Years blown away,
A motley mix
To anchor say.
By this fine space:
Mary's Kafe,
Greet face to face
As updates sway.
Change looks so strange
As we touch base,
Age screams new range
To fit our case.
Make small talk blunt
With new chit-chat,
Familiar grunts
Pry this and that.
Old versions add
A sparkle here,
Each to a fad
Dimpled with cheer.
Mellow old bones
Tell a story,
Each ageing tone
As life sparks spree.
Just for a while
Warm moments fit,
A glimpse of smiles
In jolly wit.
So much to say
Now each to each,
Sip drinks today
Old times track reach.
A few hours here
To share old times,
School days once near
Distract odd chimes.
Too soon, too quick
Time to part ways,
Each to his flick
A path and play.
A group picture
For keepsake kind,
A sure fixture
Frames peace of mind.
Leon Enriquez
31 July 2017
Singapore
Blurry feeling
Sleepy eyes here
Teary blinking
Drowsy touch steers
Ritual being
Dawn flings messy
Cause becoming
Awkward crazy
Footsteps shaky
Sleepy touch grinds
Stupor queries
Espresso finds
Brown black siesta
Drowsy eyes gaze
A wild fiesta
For cuppa craze
Leon Enriquez
22 August 2018
Singapore
A brown brew here
To lift the blur
Of atmosphere
In double spur
A bitter touch
That hurls new form
That's more than much
In fragrant norm
A moment then
To compact zest
From weary when
To highs that fest
A gulp of swirl
Of espresso
That curls and twirls
Fond momento
A spark of ease
When gall tastes best
In taste bud lease
Of cheery jest
A time for me
To seize fine oomph
That rhymes may be
A jazzy bloom
Leon Enriquez
20 October 2016
Singapore
Morning thunder grips
Shock awakening
A fragrant brew flips
Cuppa brown brew sings
Wet wet morning rain
Misty drowning feel
An aqueous deep pain
Drawing close to heal
Clash of lightning strokes
Thunder claps most loud
Freezing feelings yoke
Bad weather speaks proud
Such poignant strands here
Cheer drains with downpour
Cold and wet makes clear
Water floods some more
Cuppa of brew dark
Espresso warms me
A hot blend now sparks
An abrupt surge frees
Early morning rain
Wet brush stokes misty
Cold and wet refrains
Punctuate my sleepy
Leon Enriquez
12 October 2017
Singapore
In Florence, if you need a lift
Assistance is easy and swift.
Espresso - 3 sips -
Will not go to your hips
But will perk you - it's Italy's gift.
It gives you that jolt you require
When energy drains make things dire.
One strong little cup
Helps to pick you right up -
Why, a poem it may even inspire!
Caffeine fix squeeze
In morning breeze
Moves happy sneeze
Oomph in a drink
On odd verge brink
Beyond mere think
Sleepy eyes droop
Or else recoup
In lame regroup
Drowsy feel drowns
Such frigid frown
In brew black-brown
Caffeine fix plays
Hurl of new day
Now on the way
Brew in a gist
Can thus enlist
In floating brisk
Leon Enriquez
22 December 2018
Singapore
He’s behind the bar,
polishing glasses
like they’re his last remaining purpose.
“I know things!” he insists.
“I watch Question Time!
I once bought quinoa by accident!”
He pours stout
with the weight of centuries.
Tries to explain The Bell Jar
like it’s a limited-edition craft IPA.
You raise a brow,
sip espresso
from a flamingo-shaped chalice,
and summon Virginia Woolf.
—
She floats in —
half disapproval, half divine fog —
and asks
if his masculinity
comes with a recycling bin.
He gulps.
“But I— I run a respectable establishment.
We do quizzes… on Thursdays!”
—
Enter Frida,
eyebrows arched like battle lines.
She lights a cigarette with her pain
and paints the room into discomfort.
—
Medusa follows,
snakes whispering subtext.
She glares at the jukebox —
it turns to stone.
—
You intervene (reluctantly).
He’s soft.
Confused.
Still polishing.
Still hoping to be useful.
—
Then the Amazons arrive,
wearing fury as fashion.
One reprograms the jukebox
to only play Nina Simone.
Even the Rabbit (yes, that one)
fidgets beneath the weight
of liberated metaphors.
—
So raise your chalice, darling —
to rabbits.
To rage.
To those who dare to feel.
For this is where myth gets messy —
and still,
we make art from the spill.