Dark Cafe Poems | Examples
These Dark Cafe poems are examples of Cafe poems about Dark. These are the best examples of Cafe Dark poems written by international poets.
Thick as deep summer night, lush and moon dripped
Wine sipped with dark delight
Banter rouses whimsey’s kite
Amorous thoughts taking flight
The clouds cover the sun
The sky now dark and gray,
Looking out the window, it rains
Sitting in a bright lit café
My fate to be a watcher…
“Regarder Les Autres”
and write from alleys dark but real,
salons for words ill-bred
(Le Grande Hotel Paris: May, 1978)
blues café on main
they sat looking down at their plates
contemplating long and lonely fates,
“I miss mine, bet you miss yorn.”
two old men
shabbily shorn
smelling of age and neglect
torn
between crumbs of toast and bits of bacon.
old hearts aching from missing loves
and saddened by their lives
still mourning the long ago passing of
of old friends and wives.
“mornings are the worst, I guess I just miss her face.”
the same seat each morning at a quickly slowing pace,
they come from old dark unkempt homes.
“not so awful cold out today.”
“cause the winds laid down some.”
“a little more coffee please and I’ll be on my way.”
“some say it might snow.”
“yeah, we could be in for a blow.”
“I still have her clothes and shoes.”
“yeah, me too. don’t know what I’m gonna
do with her stuff.”
“man, it’s rough…it’s just too damned rough.”
The red leatherette like frozen waves
in a sea of coffee'd air
Cold, plump so early,
there's Formica caught in its glare
Filling slowly with private dreams
while lunch time salad waits
coffee, sweetened, creamed
croissants slipped on plates
If I owned a monochromatic camera
I'd watch the procession of the phoney
Some days it would make a difference
some days it might feel lonely
The door opens like a grave
allows in the stabbing cold
The young not bothered much,
unlike the weak and old
See one is talking the other waits
to say something pertinacious
One is waiting while the other talks
ignoring a crash of dishes
“Would you like a refill sir”
No honesty not even there
All the sugar in the world,
won't change her blank dead stare
In the corner an old man sits
newspaper shakes in dark annoyance
The headlines spoke of eastern dead
while he fights arthritis
The cliques will talk circles around you.
Switch tables a few times, get the full story.
You'll see how they overlap and intertwine.
They're not all lying, no.
But none of them are giving all the details.
It's far too risky to let an outsider in,
so they slide the blade across the floor,
to your feet,
making sure the proper arrangements are made.
Nobody wants to ruin the big surprise.
We're all in the dark, after all.
Slide a bullet in the chamber and spin the chambers,
before you change your mind.
Then, look around at all these fools.
Whispering about each other, and about you.
And how they've always leered at me.
How they pity me.
And how I pity them.
CAFE TERRACE AT NIGHT (Van Gogh)
Orbital focus of assured kindness and hospitality
From the waitress in long white apron
Where time stands still for a moment,
Where the golden interior glow of the shelter
Gravitates under the canvas roof and
Permits a little topaz flavor to anoint the cobbled street,
Its dark forbidding geometry of the night,
Its silhouetted shapes of blackened houses
Whose dead windows suggest only a half life,
Whose clock tower suggests the running sands of time,
While dizzying stars, circular orbs of cold white,
Stare unblinking at the colors uncertain
In a neighbourhood of crumbling age,
On the pavement of uncertain difficult cobbles.
The café is not crowded but it is the sun
For the people orbiting its warmth.
To the one that wrote who's quoted
Sipping java sung not noted
Others in lime being doted
posed doyley
Light they soke in dark you wrote it
credit souly
Fate being fate you are poet /Rime Couee
sitting here at the Heartbreak Cafe
outside the sky is dark and grey
hot, black coffee on a rainy day
acrid taste disguised by the bouquet
looking at this lonely crowd
early morning while it pours down
on every face a deep lined frown
clinking spoons the only sound
not the first time I've been here
the Heartbreak Cafe dark, austere
a dismal place I don't hold dear
doesn't help my thoughts to clear
pay the bill left at this table
leaving thoughts of you and this sad fable
moving on to someone more stable
just as quickly as I'm able