Terrace Poems - Poems about Terrace

Ekphrasis on Cafe Terrace at Night - POTD

Stir my moonlight coffee
with your freshly dipped brush
in bright  yellow ochre ~
I will not complain.

Sprinkle pigments from 
from your pallets 
on my unflavoured coffee~
I will not complain.

Even when
your indigo eyes
spill Prussian blue 
to veil my night sky~
I will not complain.

Come sit with me
share this coloured coffee
on this  café terrace 
where unfinished canvases
lean on

the terrace

I fell asleep outside,
on Lisa’s windy, 50th floor terrace.
It was indulgent, sensual
and lethargic - it crushed.
I forgot the time.
The sunset was intense,
a violent shock of color,
like an existential smack in the face.
I felt a lot of joy.
I’m feeling optimistic.
We leave for New Haven tomorrow.
I believe in the future.

Leeza popped her head out of the glass

Terrace

One of soft summer evenings is fading and passers go by
Cappuccino in hand and a cig, you relax in delight
Sick and happy you sit, and it must be your favorite style
Or at least that's the way I remember the terrace at night
I'm a Don Quixote's sword, broken down to pieces in hopeless attack
You're a daughter

A Terrace Full of Flowers For Our Anniversary

Oh! No. I won’t wait until you’re seriously terminally sick
Or to expire in order to send you bouquets of ritzy flowers
Today is indeed the time, the hour to stand above the big brick
To show my love amidst the hubbub of seasoneless showers.

You are profoundly loved, dear colorful and calm princess
You are always on my mind,

July Terrace Garden

 
My
tranquil
oasis,
terrace garden,
by July-  serene
hues of green foliage,
and sweet scents of rose drifting.
A repose from the humid heat,
and oppressive sun- where the murmurs
of bird twitters bring a divine stillness.

Poverty

Poverty sneaks
through her wet garment
on the terrace

she talks to herself cursing
the day she was born and left
to negotiate truths
of gender, sex and adulthood

in the middle class
one-room apartment
physical rigmarole
buries sick delight
hope of wellness
fast and Sunday mass

sink into dusk
and darkness eats
into her silence


--R K Singh

Vincent Van Gogh: Cafe Terrace At Night

from beyond his
vibrant palette
that bore all his 
lifelong scars

is what I see
beneath his sky
and myriad
of stars

a scene of shades
and silhouettes
formed by the
yellow light

that hints at
The Last Supper
at that café 
in the night?

Wide Smile Noble Wine On Terrace

Lovely wide smile asks
       noble wine on  balcony
        under the moonlight

Smiling Terrace Full of Flowers

our balcony smiles
         ornate that is for beauty
          flowers grown with love

Cafe Terrace in Arles, France

Café Terrace in Arles, France

Beneath stars of heavenly grandeur,
In a café, romance prospects dwell brighter.
Patrons’ entertaining escapades of camaraderie
Charismatically whisper away the evening.

Visible under the illuminating gas lantern
Of sulphurous yellow, revealing customers
Who say, “S'il vous plaît” to the French waiter
As passersby stare at empty tables.

At the street’s end is seen a church spiral rise,
And in-between

Hammock of Love On a Terrace By the Sea

Your hammock
   and my thirst
   pure love that stirs...

   on the rhythmic swing
   the further we balance
   plus the love happens...

   In this hammock, all desire
   only love brought us...!

That Girl On the Terrace

Every day she was abused at home,
She was locked up; not allowed to roam.
Her mother breathed for the last time
when her father was charged with a crime.
She was reared up by her cruel uncle,
who never permitted her, to see the stars twinkle.
Tears dried up; heart never failed to ache,
Her days used to end with just

Seen From the Terrace

Seen from the Terrace

The misty weather over Cascais persists
there is no wind and silky rain, falls.
Three old freighters must be 34-40 years old,
anchored in the smooth water in the bay.
There is a third wave lurking in the streets 
we, the old sit indoors except when going to
the bank to pay bills or to the grocery

Living and Dying At Tech Terrace Park

Living & Dying at Tech Terrace Park
David J Walker

If I were a kite I would try to 
Fly over Tech Terrace Park in June

It was the place where the 
Young girls from the campus 
Laid out to sunbath in the afternoon

Exposing as much skin as 
Possible without committing 
Sin to the sky

But

If I could fly,

The Terrace

Huge red-orange sun slowly recede,
Upon the sky seem to bleed;
Whispers of night, calling home,
Such sunset days rarely spent alone.

Look ahead to starry skies;
Not time for early goodbyes.
Without love cannot the heart grow-
A new day comes beyond the rainbow!

Warm Paris breeeze gently blow-
Roses atop the bureau;
Music with a certain ease;
Smooth jazz, if you please.

In darkness of

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