Cafe Of Broken Dreams

Poem By Joe Howell

She worked in confortable shoes
with thick soles, polished in hearts
of lovers that beg not to be forgoten

At my table I sat with coffee
three day growth of whiskers
a full collection of anger filled words

A skinny kid with acne scared skin
plunging stolen quarters into a
juke box full of yesterday's songs

And the waitress smiled and winked
seeing my nerves lying on the table...
knew her power over me
At the Cafe of Broken Dreams

Comments about Cafe Of Broken Dreams

A poem as sad as yesterday's song. Very poignant. Great write, Joe! Warm regards, Sandra

Rating Card

4,8 out of 5
2 total ratings

Other poems of HOWELL

Childhood Dreams

Sunlight peeps thru closed curtains
like a sleepy child, nodding in - out
yet you sleep. the wave of pre-dawn
passion, renaming lost childhood dreams


he stood six feet tall
bigest man i had ever seen
at age seven, he came into my life
picked me up and put me in a wheelbaro

22 Rifle

It was the summer that i turned 17
I wanted a 22 cal. rifle for my birthday
that was all i thought of, boy i shot a million
invisible rounds at everything from cans

Cold Wind

Hot Summer Day-
heats up everything.

Except this cold wind

When Bells Toll

when bells tolls, lies expire
truth emerges into a right
hate grows into liquid flow
bigotry is swallowed