Tag Archive: Cafe

He tried to write a tale too long…
Lost track in between.. wrote it all wrong!

In a cafe at night, he attempted to complete this tale,
His words he misspelt, his chain of thoughts would fail !
He attempted to write.. a perfect beginning.. and a perfect end,
Neither was possible, broken segments of the story, he had to mend !
That’s the trouble he faced, as a writer always…
Good stories needed high drama, twisted ways…
A single track written, never went well..
Writer’s block creped in…It was every writer’s hell!
Adding new twists changed the plot,
He never reached the end, he had always sought…
He tried to add an impromptu track every time
Even though it meddled with his story, changed the flow of his rhyme !
Old characters he created were forgotten in lieu of characters new
Who were the protagonists now of his story? He himself never knew..
And thus the writer who sought a perfect end
Tried writing a reality, which he could never mend
For every fix he tried, another end seemed a mess
His tale was going nowhere, that was his best guess !


Corner Cafe Tales – Incomplete

On a random night, a wandering loner,
Enter a random cafe, by the last lane’s corner!
A writer he was once upon a time,
Off late he had lost his ability to rhyme,
He wanted to write again, perhaps a tale all new,
But for that he required words and had thoughts too few,
He ordered a coffee, black, as he pondered what to write,
Of days gone by, an eventful past, or just the description of a random night!

He choose the latter and wrote a ode to the night,
Of empty roads and a faded moonlight…
His coffee arrived steaming hot,
Ecstacy for him, for ideas he sought,
He tried different ways to create a tale,
Every concept he tried, eventually failed.

His writing was flawed, he knew it by now,
He sought an inspiration, had none, yet continued somehow.
At that moment in that cafe, his glanced turned on the window at the rear,
He visualized a scene, his reality, of his college life’s last year!

There he saw a lad, young at heart, full of life,
Living on his own terms, no worries, no strife,
He stood outside the cafe on a random night of November,
A day before his birthday, as the writer bleakly remembered.

(may be continued…..)

"The night before Christmas"

The night before Christmas:

Having completed my Christmas shopping I decided to have a coffee at the cafe.
The person at the counter said its about closing time, but I could get my coffee before that.
I notice a small kid closing the glass door and putting up the “Closed” sign.
While leaving I saw a man in Santa’s suit approaching the cafe…an old man returning from a day’s work at some mall.
The kid seemed excited, so the owner overruled the closing time for the old man.

Christmas morning:

I read the newspaper to see who won the best dressed Santa contest.
Something else caught my attention :

“Santa robs cafe, owner and son injured!!”Santa

The Writer III

He looks at her again,
A solemn moment, of pleasure, of pain,
When words fall short, eyes speak more,
Of thoughts deep, from the heart’s core.

The night’s full of surprises it seems,
A starless sky, where the moon gleams,
Suddenly pours an untimely rain,
“Why ?”, in two minds, this same unanswered question will remain!!!

Out of words the writer concentrates now,
He has to end this tale happily somehow,
How ironical this fact seems to him,
Of glee he speaks while reality is grim.

There the tale comes to end,
A broken reality he had to bend,
For happy endings mark a perfect love story,
Broken tales are just lost in history.

He sets aside his work and glances at her now,
The girl, who never left his thoughts somehow,
She waits for the rain to slow down so she can go
Nostalgic moments follow the rain droplets flow.

And here I leave the tale, lost in traslation that night,
For under the pale moon, two lost lovers in a cafe, was just another sight,
Hearts spoke more , than words can say….
Perhaps this real love story will continue some other day….

As for that night, what happened next remains a mystery..
I had left by then , so if I ever come across the writer again,
I may knw what happend next, did it really end happily, or add to the pain,
Perhaps some day then we will know the end of this unfinished story!!!

She isnt alone like him, but with someone,
How, his own heart burns, when he sees her with anyone,
But there she sits in front of him, so close yet so far,
Back to the new tale he arrives, to that first long drive in the young lad’s car!!!

He writes of the time the two spent together,
Spring was the season, calm was the weather,
Of the various moments, magical they seemed,
But now he comes back to that night, where the pale moon gleamed.

Of that fateful night, he writes ahead,
Of the green-eyed girl in a dress – sparkling red,
For a moment, from his tale he shifts his attention,
To his own love in that cafe, his gaze on her adjacent reflection.

Beautiful she looks in that elegant red dress,
Whats the mystery behind this beauty is no one’s guess…
He remembers the day, the two had met,
He had offered her a lift in his car, next to him she had sat!!

Back to his tale, he writes of that girl,
Of the ring she adorns, its single pearl.
The pearl that glitters in that moonlight divine,
The ring that marks a faint memory of sparkling wine…

Of a night he writes, of a night he remembers,
Of the chilly wintry night in that December,
The night when the lad proposed to his own love,
The night at present, when he is no longer her love.

Drifting away from his tale, back to reality is the Writer,
Another sip of coffee, ecstasy on a chilly evening of winter.
He hears her laughter, rhythmic and warm,
His soaring heart he tries to calm!!

Back towards his love, now turns his gaze,
Their eyes meet this time, a momentful daze,
They both turn away at the same time, yet a conversation has been made,
In the silent night which will soon fade!!!

She will leave soon, but he will stay,
To continue his writing, with words he will play,
And so once again he writes, of that fateful night,
When the lad and his lady love will re-unite.

They meet in a cafe, now the tale seems awkwardly familar,
But ofcourse, to his own tale it is suprisingly similiar,
But then to his thoughts the obvious difference strikes,
His own tale has been written, while the other he writes!!!

The Writer (Incomplete)

There sits the Writer, my friend,
To another story of his he puts an end.
But his own life tale has gone quite wary,
‘Cause every broken heart has a broken story!!

In that cafe, he writes another new tale,
Of a night, so dark, of its moon, so pale.
There he goes on writing, his first character’s introduction,
Of her attractive green eyes, of the seductress’s seduction!

Of the innocence she once had,
Which attracted amongst many, a common lad.
There the second character comes in,
So thats where this love story will now begin!!!

Another cup of coffee arrives, steaming black!
A few sips the Writer has, for ideas he now lacks!
How would he begin this new love tale,
Will it be success in the end or would their love fail???

At that very moment, the Writer’s own life tale revives,
For in that very cafe, his own love arrives…
A raging beauty with a flaring smile,
The Writer is mesmerized for a while!

He remembers that smile from the good ol’ days,
When together they were before they parted ways.
Of that fateful day when the two of them parted,
Of his unfinished love which was all that lasted!

He concentrates now on writing the new tale,
Back to the question of success or fail.
Success he chooses, ignoring her presense,
How ironical!! He always missed her in her absense!

Back to the tale, he describes the young lad,
In the words of his friends a little smart, a little mad.
Crazy he was in love of that girl,
Whose innocent green eyes made every heart twirl!

What went wrong in their love story??? the Writer ponders,
He steals a glimpse of his love, as he wonders,
How different she looks now, yet the same eyes – attractive green,
Unaware of his presence in the cafe, after three years so close she has been!!!