Long Coffee shop Poems
Long Coffee shop Poems. Below are the most popular long Coffee shop by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coffee shop poems by poem length and keyword.
Natural Finery
Gazing out the window from a coffee shop, came an image that changed the world. Like a breath of fresh air, light and refreshing, that could be immediately enjoyed in the lungs and registers to the brain with an awakening clarity. The object of my attention was not monumental, nor flamboyant, but it was in stark contrast to the surroundings that changed everything. To the observer it was everything, but to all else, there was no recognition. In fact, it went entirely without notice, except for the occasional dog, dragging the undisciplined owner by the leash. After fifty years of training, my eyes have seen enough, like a fine jeweler appraising a diamond based on the cut, clarity, carat, and color. The expression on my face, a slight smile, a relaxed gaze, and a peaceful submission broadcasted my evaluation as most acceptable. And as rare as this occasion was, it brought a slight sadness with it. This fine opulent standard, if you will, is not desired as a possession, but seen as a fleeting reminder, of what the world could be. If only the world wasn’t so consumed by distractions, and demanding my attention at every turn, like a loud and obnoxious parade. This was an open meadow, with a singular tree, and a field of flowers, simple, and charming, a pleasant retreat from jangling clowns, and honking fire trucks. And now, there she goes. Goodbye, miss white summer dress, with your wide straps, non-revealing neckline, and flowing material. Au revoir belle fille, with medium-length hair and ebony curl. Your delightful smile, unhindered by cosmetics and jewelry… lifted my soul. Even the male, tri-colored, Australian Shepherd you walk heals obediently, and lovingly by your side, tells of your character. May you marry a man worthy of your grace, and you have many children that will influence the world as positively as you influenced mine. Please, remain, unspoiled.
by, Martin Braun
July 14th, 2023
Questions of doom averted.
new sound waves crash under morning meditation.
Searching for the words of God in subway mix tapes and under coffee shop tables.
Allowing my mind to wander to distant lands of ancient Empty graves.
Sparrows sing each new day a song of praise to God.
Dogs bark in the distance as I hear Jon talking with Mindy
Thirsting for living water I seek Yeshua Christ known as God made Flesh.
Clocks tick and water drips as my coffee gets cold.
Sleep escaped me last night and now a new day is here.
Lily is ever talking much today.
She can hear things Brian cannot like Jon and Mindy arguing in the distance through the open door.
September is soon beginning a time of in between times where summer is not fully over yet fall has not truly started.
two thousand and twenty six years since Yeshua was born
troubling sounds outside I do not like to hear.
September eleventh is the highest watch day of the year for a possible rapture.
If the Rapture happens this year Turn to Jesus before it is too late.
I met him at the coffee shop one day,
he asked to join me- and I said okay;
as he talked I fell into eyes of gray,
he was handsome and his voice was hypnotic.
He said- I was erotic,
his hand touching mine I did not reject;
but did not know what to expect.
We went for a long walk,
for hours did talk;
and like a hawk,
his lips were on mine in an aching kiss.
I was suspended then twirling with bliss,
then falling in a fathomless abyss.
We parted- smiled,
both, knowing our loving would be wild.
_________________________________
October 18, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/I Fell Into Eyes of Gray
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1072-448-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Tell Me A Story
sponsor, Brenda Chiri
Sixth Place
was feelin too sick to write poetry
every breath taken
was another nail in my coffin
with shades of self pity
hanging over my shoulders like a long lost friend
this cold still goes on forever
robbing me of vitality, smell, and sacred and much adored sleep
as coughing fits
like grand mal seziures
keep me enraptured in their tendrells
never mind
these wee hours of the early early mornin
say 1.14 am
allow me to think about things long forgotten
like how my loved one called me "toquie"
and how much I loved that name....and all the warm cozy feelings
the little girl inside of me now misses these feelings
I get to think about my goals and aspirations
of the art show I again want to put on in a small
coffee shop on THE DRIVE
But, most of all, this cold has given me a gift of realizing
how imporant one's health is...
in order to fully love oneself...
and you.
Form:
I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING
BUT YOU BETTER SLOW DOWN
WE DON'T LIKE SPEEDERS
FLYING THROUGH TOWN
SPEED LIMIT HERE
IS THIRTY-FIVE
OFFICER PETE
HAS AN EAGLE EYE
YA AUGHT TO SLOW DOWN
TAKE IN THE VIEW
SEE WHAT OUR TOWN
HAS TO OFFER YOU
A BED AND BREAKFAST
JUST UP THE ROAD
WITH A POND OUT BACK
WITH TURTLES AND TOADS
WE HAVE A GROCER
WITH A PHARMACY
WE HAVE A HAIR CUTTER
BY THE NAME OF ELLIE
WE HAVE A GAS STATION
AND COFFEE SHOP
FILL UP YOUR TANK
AND HAVE A RED POP
WE HAVE A TOW TRUCK
AND A JAIL
WE HAVE NO PLACE
TO POST YOUR BAIL
YOU'LL WAIT TILL TUESDAY
TO SEE THE MAGISTRATE
HE WILL BE HERE
BUT OFTEN LATE
Rita was visiting. She pointed off the road. Let’s go there. So we did. It was the CIA - Culinary Institute of America. Like Auntie Mame, my aunt was a world traveler, an adventurer. My parents were not. My first taste of different.
fancy and fruitful
red plums and pastry aplomb -
a close call with life
There is crisscrossing of paths. One of my military assignments was Oahu, where my aunt no longer a spinster (her dad’s old fashioned label) was living. I’d traipse off to meet her, riding my moped. We’d have lunch at JC Penny’s coffee shop. She’d be surprised that I’d travel so far but there was something wild and adventurous in my twenty-something blood; and we only had one car.
a moped useful
for trekking to and from, up
to island stars
My son was almost one when he traveled with us to the Hawaiian islands. He’d go much farther, to Guam, and meet the woman he’d marry. After becoming a submariner chef, he’d win an Iron Chef contest, which would lead him to mom’s hometown where he’d get two degrees at the CIA.
does God sow these scenes
lead us to places unseen -
wildest dreams are birthed
Life is an adventure. I’d not had the faith to believe that but God had surely shown me the smorgasbord. On the smorgasbord of life, I ride the waves, the crest’s exciting, the bounce inviting.
God’s faithfulness sets
a table with bread and wine -
prolific support
Sea waters seem stagnant during this pandemic. We are at a lull, missing people and our lives. We are starved for the loaves and fishes God provides. I must have faith, this time around.
hunger greets God’s word
creator-restorer of faith -
snowfall like manna
2/28/2021
Waitress
David J Walker
There is a waitress working at
The Sunrise coffee shop
Who knows her tips depend
On a convincing performance
To that end she knows my name
I am
Darlin or
sugar or
sweets pie
It’s good to live in the South
She reminds me of how
21 felt
She reminds me of the
Freedom from obligation
She reminds me of lost
Liberal thought
She reminds me of unbridled
Anticipation
She reminds me of how one can
Live on minimum wage
She reminds me that my songs
Are sung by dead and dying artists
She reminds me though my clothes
are clean they are sadly out of date
She reminds me of the awkwardness
Of the ascending obligations of adulthood
She reminds me of a
Hungering wontedness
She reminds me of the mysteries
Of sex
She reminds me, unintentionally,
That I’m a grandfather
She reminds me that I am a veteran of battles
Won or lost a half century ago
She reminds me that no matter what else I am
I am also the mentor of everyday students
Walking the streets
It’s worth an extra dollar or so
To let her know
Her smile and the coffee is enough to
Keep me coming back
Where every morning she serves it up
hot and black
With the mystery of memories
On the side
Now an adult she still has nightmares
As she relives that horrific day
Believing she was going shopping with her aunt
But it had never been planned that way
On the way out she kissed her mother goodbye
Excitedly she climbed into the car
A day out in the big city
To walk was way too far
The roads to the city were busy
She'd only been there twice before
So much for her to look at
She was mesmerized in awe
Reaching their destination
Parking the car then making their way
Stopping at a ticket machine
For the parking they had to pay
A ramp led them into the complex
There was so much for her to take in
Never had she seen such a sight
She didn't know where to begin
Lunch was to be had before shopping
And a coffee shop was the spot
Cucumber and avocado sandwiches
And tea they poured from a pot
Next stop was the toilets
Aunty said she'd wait out there
Washing her hands she exited
But her Aunt could be found nowhere
Not knowing what to do
Or where she should start to look
She sat on the bench seat waiting
Sobbing so hard she shook
Looking but not stopping
Many people passed her by
But then an elderly looking lady
Asked her 'Why do you cry?'
Explaining she'd lost her Aunty
And not knowing her way around
The kind lady offered to take her
To the office of 'Lost and Found'
Her Aunt never arrived to collect her
From that moment life completely changed
Unable to locate her parents
Alternative care was then arranged
That's when her new life started
Moving from home to home
Abandoned by her family
To live her life alone
3rd July 2018
The shops look all the same to me.
plastic human models with no heads
are placed in the windows
showing us how we might look
if we bought the latest fashions.
People walk, by dropping paper and cans
some look at me,most don’t
I’m invisible now ,I’m a ghost.
I haunt my familiar spaces
the library green and the path by the pond
The phone shops tempt us with larg notices:
Only £39 per month for the best
the latest,the new maps and locations
faster access to email and photos.
Look here I am,another selfie.
The only beauty is a pigeon in the sun
and a black man with gentle,luminous eyes
smiling at me as he sweeps away the paper
tossed down by the blinded people
who jabber beside the coffee shop.
On Lorimer street
any coffee shop
is elegant and hip,
and people are very sweet.
There's no view
of the Brooklyn Bridge,
or buildings with a fancy facade,
drink your favorite coffee and say hello to Lou.
Folks converse in Italian and Russian: two notes in discord;
one language sounds like poetry,
the other has a soft-hard sound as the waves of the sea...
two languages sharing diversity.
On Lorimer Street
every crowded sidewalk burns with summer's heat
as the American flag flaps over cafes in old buildings;
Brooklyn doesn't have the typical Manhattan beat...
folks don't hurry to enjoy the lively, urban things.
On Lorimer Street
evenings are spent alone, or in the company of friends.