Short Coffeehouse Poems

coffeehouse sonata
americano in hand
muse with pen all set



posted on September 17, 2018...

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Can we go on a coffee date? 
In the nearest coffeehouse so we won't be late. 
Can we simply talk and put down each other's phones?
And pretend it's Nineteen Ninety-Four....

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Sitting all alone,
sipping tea, munching a scone;
elderly woman
in a quiet coffeehouse
looking for conversation.

"That was delicious",
she says to the young server
seemingly busy.
She tries to make eye contact;
the young one averts her gaze.

It's like that most days...
staring at windows and walls.
Human connection:
a rarer commodity
for those who so need it most....

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Coffeehouse aromas
suffuse senses, dissolving 
any semblance
of time.
Unsolved problems
melt away in a
conscious uncaring,
and the day slips, unnoticed.
Deep in a forest
serene daydreams pour
gently over a secret waterfall
into a moss-fringed pool, 
a peaceful place.
My calm immersed, 
I hear only the
soft, slow whisper 
and smooth syllables of
a single word.

    Quiescent...

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mellow just chilling
sitting back
listening to
coffeehouse tunes
sipping a tall americano
at a table for one
set by the window
in the far corner
winding down
doodling pen in hand
jotting rough lines
of a poem on a napkin
pulling it together
precious me time
hiding out where
i can lose myself
and not be found



Published in my photo/poetry book ~TABLE FOR ONE~ 2019

AP: Honorable Mention 2020

Posted on September 18, 2019...

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That noise
The overwhelming noise
Mechanical impersonal
Drowning out
My inner voice
In a much soothing manner
I may be deaf when
I leave this roastery coffeehouse
But till then
I am thoroughly enjoying
The mental massage
By this robotic drone
Being in no rush to leave
Sipping my americano



Submitted on March 11, 2020 for contest STRAND CHOICE D sponsored by BRIAN STRAND  -  HONORABLE MENTION

Originally posted on December 13, 2018...

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