#barista
Humans find life in the lifeless,
it is a subconscious act.
So when the coffee machine doesn't work well (despite all available facts),
I give her an incredulous look,
head-cocked, raised brow,
expecting her to look back.
Then after some time (and no reason why),
she works!
What's more human than that?
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 5:51 AM UTC
He smiles at me
May I take your order please
Cappuccino, latte, or me
Frothy steam
Coffee kisses daydream
Red lipstick blotch on the coffee cup
Thank you
Your welcome
Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 11:35 AM UTC
Rays of Sun baptismal,/
Glisten upon my /
Sol- Dazed epidermis /
As I /
Waft in throes /
Of Beauteous romance & /
Wax hypnotized by /
The sweet nothings of my/
Desiderata Materialista Transcendentalista. /
Resting in the algid embrace of /
The Hiemal Winds /
Atop my /
Voluptuary Ivory Tower, /
In this cup I, I savor the flavor, /
Of ambrosia stimulanté: /
—Rousing me with each sip, /
Of sweet deific nectar, /
Starbucks Pike Place with White Chocolate Mocha Creamer. /
The former barista in me, /
Waxes & wanes in waves; moreover /
The past is derelict, /
The future is nigh, /
The present is luminous /
As I /
Wonder Upon /
The seasons, the distance, the space, and the time,/
That separates me from mi amour, ~ a moment in time. /
(—Se’ lah)
Feb 20, 2025
Feb 20, 2025 at 10:23 PM UTC
Being a partner
Means you're just
Making coffee
You start to
Realize that
It's just work;
An opportunity
"To do"
You're not learning
You're just
Doing something
Then it starts
To mean you're
Not getting by
You're "going"
And it's just a job
Your fellow partners
Aren't just colleagues
They're a company
And you're just
An employee
Oct 8, 2022
Oct 8, 2022 at 12:01 AM UTC
Down at Mary Lou's,
There's a Venezuelan *****
I'd have married her at 16
If we were south of Mason Dixon,
She's as sweet as cotton candy
She's a Venezuelan fox,
She has all the right ingredients
To be unorthodox.
Down at Mary Lou's
There's a Venezuelan momma,
She looks hotter than Hell
And knows nothing of Obama,
She has a way with coffee beans
A special way to grind,
The brew so stimulating
Oh baby; What a find!
Down at Mary Lou's
There's a Venezuelan beauty,
She blends outstanding coffee
And she really is a cutie,
Whenever I stop by
I feel her Venezuelan heat,
I get an overwhelming urge
Just to have a bite to eat.
Down at Mary Lou's
There's a Venezuelan girl,
She makes the finest Latte'
With a little mocha curl,
Her steam is hyper-pressured
Milk frothing to a frenzy,
I think I'll wait outside for her
To perform an apprehenzie.
Down at Mary Lou's
There's a Venezuelan dame,
She prepares an awesome beverage
While I play a little game,
It’s called watch the Coffee Maid
Tamp the grounds and make some steam,
Oh, this Venezuelan Coffee chick
Is an old man’s sweetest dream.
There's a Venezuelan princess
Down at Mary Lou's,
If I had done the hiring
She's the one I'd choose,
Her charisma is intoxicating
Her aromas even more so,
And when she wears that skimpy T - shirt
I'm just nuts about her torso.
Down at Mary Lou's
Things are heating up,
I keep dropping in for coffee
At three bucks a cup,
And while I'm on the subject
Regarding a Venezuelan Barista,
If she isn't available.........
Might she have a sista'?
A vacation too short
But the views were **** good,
Thanks to a Venezuelan beauty
Preparing coffee as one should,
I'll return again a year from now
And stop at Mary Lou's,
Will the Coffee chick come back again?
If not I'll sing the blues.
May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 12:29 PM UTC
Your hand caressed in mine,
when you brought in my cup of coffee.
You gave a smile,
like a wanderer with an untold story.
The scent of brewed coffee sends a tingle to my olfactory nerve;
it reminds me of you, whenever you serve.
After I left the coffee shop,
it was you who I thought about.
Thinking of seeing you again—-
I smiled, without a doubt.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC
He noticed you'd
cut your blonde hair.
Turned away from him,
he noticed it
from the rear.
You busy
making coffees.
He stood watching,
waiting.
There was talking
from the cafe;
people moving
to and fro,
coming and going.
He noticed how slim
your body was,
how thin your arms,
delicate your fingers,
moving at their task.
He studied you
as you turned;
took in your pale features,
icy blue eyes,
the thin pink lips.
Now full on
you looked up
to gaze at him.
He flustered
pretended indifference,
but inside he glowed
like a pokered fire.
You turned away
to make more coffees
and he taking his
on a tray,
sat quietly
not far away.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 2:02 AM UTC
Hello , how are you
What would you like?
No problem, that'll be $2.67
Yes , the prices go up without us knowing
Here you go, have a great day
(are you ok? You good?)
(I'm fine)
Where do you want me?
Ok, I finished, now where?
I just put out milk, are they just guzzling it?
(are you ok, you good?)
(yeah, I'm good)
Hi. Yes. Iced or hot?
ICED or hot?
$4.25.
Have a great day.
Can I clock out now?
See you tomorrow.
(Im so tired of saying "I'm ok." Because then I think about it and realize, I'm not always okay. I'm just....living. The only way I know how to.)
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC
Henry sips his latte;
the café is full; a babble
of voices surround him.
The young barista is beautiful,
her large eyes gaze at him,
her lips become flowers
as she speaks.
The other barista is older
and not so beautiful; her words
are half Italian and sound
romantic no matter
what she says.
Henry will order another latte
just to hear her speak again.
The beautiful barista is busy;
the crowd buzz like bees.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 1:46 PM UTC
the monotony
of frap
after frappuccino
after frap,
sloshing flavored syrup
up my arms
and fingers sticky with caramel--
we run like hamsters
round & round
and don't stop
'til we're dead--
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
You put down my drink
complete with four straws,
exhaling a nervous ramble
of rehearsed words.
You told me that you
'didn't know what colour
would be my favourite so'
you 'put one in of each.'
I looked down to see
one yellow, one blue,
one pink and one green
dismissing you with a thank you,
but I wish I instead
would of stopped you
and told you for future,
my favourite is yellow.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC
Voices blurring
Secrets passing
Dripping through
the coffee filters.
Pooling in
heatproof glass.
Relationships being built
strengthened
raising to new levels
like steam on hot milk.
Stories woven
like the skilled baristas.
Not missing a beat,
not spilling a drop.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC
Latte and scone please
Henry said
with jam and cream?
the barista said
no jam or cream
Henry said
just plain
the barista said
I like scones
but I love them
with cream and jam
she looked at Henry
plenty of cream
he smiled
yes cream has it's place
I guess
he said
she poured his latte
and placed a scone on a plate
and took his money
and gave him change
yes sometimes cream
makes it special
she said smiling
he carried his tray
to his table
and sat and stirred his latte
and spooned off
the top cream
and eyed her
as she served
the following customer
she was an Italian
(the barista)
who spoke good English
and had the darkest of eyes
and black curly hair
the scone was good
and he enjoyed each mouthful
without jam or cream
and he captured in mind
the barista
for his night-long dream.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 4:21 PM UTC
I am the barista you seek,
I will brew the strongest,
Or may be softer love.
It maybe your choice,
It's a command for me,
I will just hum the tune.
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 7:48 AM UTC
dizzying drips in the espresso's wake
pool of foam on the counter's face
facade of daily blather
hiss of saucer's edge
rusty change scattered loose.
in this,
I find the mystery of human use.
what we're for
why we're there
the arm that pours
the lips that curve
the standing, tired legs that shout
"I serve."
"I did it." and
"I'm f****ing out."
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
*Milk falls into my cup of coffee.
Carefully, I swish the pitcher while
Perfecting the art of latte.
Bubbles all velvety from the perfect aeration.
I made a Rosetta-
though not perfect,
it's enough to make me smile.*
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:40 AM UTC
This door leads you right
where you are.
Scents and sights arriving
here are affirmation
of dying chemistry
between you and the world;
Therefore you sense them
stronger than man ever
has. Prophecies melt for
this inhuman moment, not
Unfamiliar to your spirit.
The Barista cooks you a
liquid meal, a brat hums
your favorite tune, but the
aftermath is they all leave.
Through a door which leads
them back again.
Daughter, son
Whatever sensation
keeps them here with me
keeps you standing
stagnant
Ungasping, in need of
Gasping. A goner,
secret front-runner
This door leads you right
to yourself.
Scents and sensations
locked in our fish-eyes
Relinquish blindness, as is
your job.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
Big sister,
You smell like coffee....
but I showered twice!!
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
Early morning,
Eyes still closed.
Staggering to my local coffee shop.
Swing open the door, and yell to the girl in front of the counter.
Gimme your strongest coffee!
She gave me a strange look when I gave her five bucks and said to keep the change.
I was walking out the door.
Trying to think how much coffee is now a days.
When it hit me!
I looked back through the glass, into the store.
I saw the girl "in front" not behind the counter, ordering a capaccino.
This answered all my well thought questions I had pondered earlier this morning.
Along with a shocking revelation.
I just paid five bucks for warm milk!
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC