On the corner, a signpost
calls to the lonely, "Come In".
And for those who obey,
enter into the green door,
and dare to make a change?
A cup with a broken handle,
it's oversized bowl filled
to the brim with a brew
sweet, and warm, like brown silk.
Here, cup in hand, customers
laugh, and talk between sets.
But, all become silent when
stage is taken, ever ready
to listen to jazz, or spoken word.
The darkest corners, hide readers,
or pen-in-hand writers. Polite.
They put down book, and pen to hear.
On the counter is a stack,
of cd's, poetry to read, books.
All author's and musican's
present and ready to sign.
Except Lily, who shakes her head.
Still too humble to dare. Yet.
Confidence grows here, nurtured
amid worn tables, and broken crockery.
Patron's claim ties that bind here,
coming often to a welcoming place.
Author notes
bank 6
A contest entry
- The Prompt Coffee House: Prompt Challenge Round 3: Word Banks by Ceridwens Soul.
1050 points, ended September 12, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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This piece takes me back to my uni days. The jazz bar come poet's cafe was a well worn place but the atmosphere has been captured in your piece so beautifully. Well done
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Thankyou for your entry,Good luck
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