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Conversation in a Harbour Cafe

It was all in her eyes

When he said

I

He saw the tear

When he breathed

L

O

V

E

He knew her mind

When he stopped

 

Outside the mist rolled in

As ropes slipped off bollards

 

When he left

He heard her say

M

Y

When the door slammed

He hoped she said

L

O

V

E

When he heard

It was all in his mind

 

Outside the engine sta...

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cafeconversationfogharbourleavinglovemooringsquaysailingskippertide

Autumn Thoughts

Black steel

curling wrought iron

balustrade

 

Beneath me

coffee steam

and noise

rise

 

and a poet

sits talking

animatedly

his foot jiggling

as he gesticulates

 

outside

autumn sun

shines on wet roofs

and casts

tree shadows

on house walls

 

outside

the sea is rising

while

London sinks

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AutumnbalconyBrexitcafecoffeeglobal warmingLondonshadowssun

C#1

It is a meeting place, this coffee house of ours

The atmosphere is friendly and relaxed,

And it is popular with everyone.

Its tables and the chairs are a mixture of styles and ages:

Metal or wood or comfy arm chairs, and benches

They must have come from an auction!

There is a full bookcase half way up the stairs

There are newspapers in a rack

Some customers read while they ...

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cafecoffeecoffee houseliaisonsmeetingswatching

Life is cruel sometimes

I’ve waited on platforms
For trains that never arrived
Drank shots in cellar bars
On Tuesday nights
With in-betweeners
Who still believe in lady luck

I’ve walked along promenades
Been battered by the wind and the rain
Taken shelter in late night café’s
Drank coffee so strong

It made me shudder
I’ve read the beat poets so many times
But I never tire of the words
Of Ginsberg and Ker...

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amazingbandwagonsbeat poetscafeCoffeecruelfriendsginsbergJack Kerouacpromanadeswealth

CHECKY TROUSERS

 

His name is Jeff.  He’s a chef.
How can you tell?  By his trousers of course.
When he puts on those checky trousers he’s no longer just Jeff,
But, Jeffry, like Mam used to scream, making herself hoarse
At his idleness, lethargy, laziness, now all in the past
Since a chef he’s become, even though it’s self-classed.

Doesn’t wear one of them tall ‘ats though.
He tried one.  Couldn’t...

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CafeGreasy spoonHumourUnhealthy

CHECKY TROUSERS

entry picture

His name is Jeff.  He’s a chef.

How can you tell?  By his trousers of course.

When he puts on those checky trousers he’s no longer just Jeff,

But, Jeffry, like his Mam used to scream, making herself hoarse

At his idleness, lethargy, laziness, now all in the past

Since a chef he’s become, even though it’s self-classed.

 

Doesn’t wear one of them tall ‘ats though.

He tried on...

Read more …

cafecookingHumour

Knots

Knots

 

We have to think

about where to put

our hands.

 

They fumble under tables,

or rest very casually on

the table, courageously spread

across the middle as if to show

just how normal you

want it to feel.

 

The tea is greasy,

and you concentrate

on stroking the condensation

from your glass 

of orange juice.

 

The cur...

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