Sitting near the patterned wall,
At the small table across from the counter,
Crowded with caffeine guzzling joke machines,
Steam and sarcasm, alongside pastries,
I, stationary, anxious,
Under the influence of an espresso,
And a meld of solitary jazz,
Am alone.
On an empty stomach, acetaminophen
And a head full of ache,
I shudder, and take refuge
In the dark warmth of the molten shadow
Swirling in the large mug between my hands,
Which are now heated by another dose,
Penetrating the porcelain with its warmth;
Half as concentrated,
But nonetheless caffeine.
A friend arrives and takes his time,
Bringing with him ignored advice,
And tending to curious obligations.
I don't think I can handle anymore of this
Dimly burning imperfection:
My fate so far has been mildly amusing,
In the sense of a poorly written sitcom,
In which the actors fail to impress,
Yet no one has laughed at their mistakes.
Author notes
This is about my first time **ever** speaking in public, reading poetry at a stylish little place called Cafe C'est la Vie. It was pretty horrible, because my arms were actually shaking (possibly due to the fact that I had eaten nothing but a Tylenol, an espresso, and a coffee that day). But hey, give me a break, the idea of screwing up in front of a lot of people is very intimidating! Apparently I did really well though. I didn't even stutter
Written June 13th, 2006
A contest entry
- The Coffee Anthology (Contest) by ea.
500 points, ended June 16, 2006, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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very nice
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Hah, the devil...some people looked at me like I was nuts, but nothing that extreme!
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The first time I spoke in public was in a coffee house too.
My poetry was not well receved,I was told I was the devil and that I was going to hell for saing things like that.
In my small town my ideas are shuned.
OH,your poem...
It was verry well writen It got it's pont across effortlessly.
And being able to do that is the best gift a person can have. -
This is good; I relate to this one, yes, indeed, and I like the added interest that your bio provides. Maybe just change "The friend" to "A friend." Not sure, but you don't state earlier who it is you're waiting for so I am not expecting a special "The"... Please IM me with your name and state, province of country, along with any other details you would like included in the end notes if you are interested in having it appear in the coffee anthology. Also please leave the poem in the contest until I have announced the book. This will allow me easy access to it and to be able to reach you with further details. Thank you.
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WOW! I'm so glad that you did well at the cafe or coffee house as its otherwise known. Did you know that coffeehouses were known as "schools of knowledge" because people from all parts of town would collect there, chat on everything they could think of, exchange so much of information, learn so many new things, etc. The kings did not like this because usually the people would gossip about the bad qualities in the kings or how they were a pain to the common people and so the doors to coffeehouses were closed for a while
Your poem took me back to the 16th century
I enjoyed the imagery, the atmosphere that you have created in the poem. The metaphors used are excellent. The second stanza is my favourite for all the beauty captured in it, the mood, metaphors, and the fact that we all need to grab some coffee when we are anxious or nervous about something. The poem has no problem with flow either. I enjoyed it.
All the best,
Charishma
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