Coffee Poems - Poems about Coffee

PRE-COFFEE PONDERINGS

I believe the newscaster
Is making stuff up
I recall in the “70’s 
Harvard Square
Intellectuals hanging
THE WORLD WILL END
ON OCT 17th
Signs that neglected
To give the year
Does anybody
REALLY KNOW
What time it is
Dogs are not
Furry children
They do, however,
Have better health care
What if a stalker
Shows up at a séance
Dogs will look sad
After chewing up the couch
Cats have no conscience
I have

Citrus Note

And I loved him at that
March midnight, the one when spring was
late. They say she was caught up
in a reminiscent movie
—even love was black and white back then

What I wouldn’t give
for those days, side by side in
July's bliss, brewing
summer coffee. It had a hint of
tangerine. Isn't it miraculous? How
the bitter umber can carry
a note so

cold brewed

cold brewed caffeine fix
facing head on the heatwave
~ uplifting delight

Romance over coffee

we met at dusk in a diner on Mars
the stars were aligned and
the moons shone bright
~ at the very first glance
we knew it was meant to be



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

aromatic pause

aromatic pause
then time to push the lever
~ french pressed perfection



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

ballad to coffee

where would i be without your warmth
your gentle aroma wafting through
heating my cold hands
my heart is overjoyed when i hold you
a silent grounding taste
i've never cared where you came from
simply savoured your purity
i love you in mornings and evenings
on rainy days and sunny mornings
when its january
and when its november
you are one of the main reasons

COFFEE AND CROISSANTS

COFFEE AND CROISSANTS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coffee's rich scent, a drink at morning’s first light,
its aroma wafting through the air, a sweet delight.

The delicious croissant, flaky, buttery, and fine,
a pastry perfect in its semi-circular design.

Together they unite, such a splendid pair,
coffee's boldness and the croissant's international flair.

So, here's to coffee and the croissant's charm,
a morning ritual best consumed when

Coffee Power

My morning coffee is a stimulant,
it motivates my regularity in an instant.
And some mornings if my feet I dare to drag
my underwear substitutes for a doggie bag.

Colors In A Coffee House

Double time hits for the ceiling — 
The clouds of white smoke, the healing

Childhood in my skin finally relaxes
Everyone around me in lapses

Coffee forms the swollen cheeks
With history's pick of bean

Water remembers
Water pushed under embers

The percolator 
Like some wound drips her.

Eyes on the preppy barista — 
Maybe we both see in similar vistas

She writes down

Teardrops And Coffee-Stains

At 
the bottom 
of every corner store 
and coffee shop mug, 

there is a collection of 
teardrops and coffee-stains.

Waiting 
to be gathered 
so they can write 
their stories in indelible 
ink.

A Real Cup OF Coffee humor

A real cup of coffee feels nice on the tongue 
it has a pleasant mouthfeel and it is warm 
Some think dung coffee lists high on the rung
while others believe it contains fungi-form 

A teenage diary with a fountain pen nib  
quiet often it holds emotions real true 
Melodramatic entries sometimes its a fib

Coffee together at sunset

We had a day
straight out of a dream,
perfect in every way.

We savoured our favourite dinner,
satiated, kicked back,
put up our feet.

It was pure harmony,
we didn't want it
to ever end.

Front row seats
for the best outdoor
show in town.

A mug of french vanilla
coffee in hand,
we were one with the universe.

when no water

  coffee
 
       from stale flask

                        itchy armpits 
                

Another Day - Another Morning Coffee

The black depths
of a coffee beckon the mind 
into a bottomless gaze - you stir 
and feel yourself swirl
in a dizzying haze and hope 
you will slowly dissolve
into nothing at all. 
But somehow you manage
to hold, grab the edges,
survive another close call.

The Coffee is Bitter Today

I don't know why.

I added the same sugar,
poured from the same tin.

But it reminds me of farewells
those spoken casually,
like we wouldn't miss each other.

Like love could be scheduled.

This bitterness
it's not the coffee.
It's remembering your face only through photos
your voice buried beneath children's laughter.

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