The Bar Room has a corner table placed strategically at a point diagonally across from the entrance. the table of tables in the setting of settings in the building of buildings. In the religion of lunch, this is the holy of holies.
quote by Raymond Sokolov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Flies In Face Challenges
a fresh start a fat check is window to new worlds
man motives material moves flies in face challenges spies
opportunities buildings iconic represent world desires
global aspirations are a meal table set with room temperature wine
most citizens drink tea coffee eat at tables below the salt
at the king’s high table swords are still crossed with empire intent
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Table For Two!
Flash of dream overcome me
as I took slumber one night
I saw a romantic setting
lies a set of table for two
A bouquet of red roses
decorate at the center
where a bottle of red wine
completes the table for two
I saw you entered the haven
dressed in rainbow colored suit
your face so pretty with a smile
as we kissed at the table for two
Mesmerized by your countenance
I was filled with romantic stance
as we danced to the tune of love
such so divine at the table for two
Awaken at height of joy
I am filled with inspiration
as today it becomes a reality
a table for two on Valentines day
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Some-of-it Is Something
A liquid melts so slowly that tomorrow arrives by the adventure. This meaningful pity sounds doubly clear. The something we ourselves admire adheres to our work. Our employable brain is taxed, by the thoughts in religion. The table has been just born. The round-table is an earning point.
poem by Naveed Akram
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My Happy Heart
i
there are table
specially made for our kind
and some chairs too
they are made for
solo settings
ii
i sit on one of those
chairs
most often
and i eat on such
tables
more than what is
necessary
iii
sometimes people
stare at me
i eat alone, i sip my own cup of tea
alone
and it does not
really bother me
i am familiar with such
feeling
i am at home
and my heart is still a happy
place
for my dwelling
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Religious Table
A table wooden to the bone cushions my side of the bone,
Tables and chairs, chairs and tables work hands and feet.
My real furnished appearance stages a welcome,
By talismans so religious and bold, and also stronger than the furniture.
The bones of a skeleton are brittle when time takes time,
Bone is sacred, bone is like a table of splendid nature.
My body is furnished with eyes and ears, faces so dear,
Letting light be knightly on the skin, with skin and skin.
The bones of religion collect by night and day,
Relics of the past demand recollection, everyday.
poem by Naveed Akram
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An Ode for David
Inspiration
From a lopsided table?
Words written down
Told as a fable
Strange request you have
My dear friend
Inspiration I will find
This I do intend
Wooden Table
Possess my tongue
Wintered table
Cry from my lungs
Pen striking paper
You shall be my muse
May the bleeding ink
Cry of your blues
Splintered skin
In a corner rest forgotten
Winding legs
You stand wild as cotton
Pen stroke slide
Across your lofty floor
Three legs you stand
When you should have four
Awkward table
You have no friend
Ancient table
You've reached your bitterend
Should my pen learn sea legs
I'd love you once more
But, on three legs you stand
When you should have four
poem by Kay Gardner
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The dining room in my old house was truly magnificent, but by far the worst room for conversation. I'd get up from the table, a very long table, and somebody would always say, Paul, I never got to talk to you.
quote by Paul Lynde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Food On My Table
Come and see the food on my table,
For it is prepared for you and me;
And, i am waiting for you in the room of my love.
Life is full of surprises and i want to show you my love,
And here comes the sun of the morning to touch your heart;
For, it is right for you to be beside me at this table.
The food on my table,
As soon as you receive my letter means that i love you;
For life is full of surprises and i want your love,
So come and let us share this food on my table.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Vic 4
OUTSIDE the house
the rain pours
heavily,
nothing disturbs
the settings on the table
and on the veranda
fronting the window
is the tree filled with
fruits
you gaze at it
you hear the loud pouring of the rain
inside
the setting is still perfect
now you don't really care
about how the placements
affect you
you feel the slow movement
of the red blood cells in your wrist
the fingers relax
the heart rests upon
the closed door
of the bone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To put down an ideogram of a table so that people will recognize it as a table is not the work of a painter, but to sense it for a moment as a magic carpet with a leg hanging down at each corner is the beginning of a painter's imagination.
quote by Frank Auerbach
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boot Sale
Car boot sale.
Car booties!
People are selling off paste tables,
They can be found in every nook and cranny,
Car parks, football fields and parks everywhere.
When you have seen one you have seen then all.
Bored faces being dragged from table to table,
People being charged silly money for total rubbish.
When they should have taken it to the Tip!
poem by Paul Freiter
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Maths
Maths is fun but can be boring,
You never know when tests are due,
Sometimes hard,
Never know whats coming the next day,
Sometime on the top floor! ! ! !
Theres always Algebra, Numbers, Addition, Sums
Lots of them.
More and more homework everyday,
Either online or written,
Tables set out allover the place,
Table by table,
Sat alphabetically.
Numbers allover the place,
Loads of them! ! !
poem by Sophie Hanson
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Malachys
Eddie said the beat was wrong
Tom didnt like the tune
The boy with a beard in the corner
Laughed in the middle of a song
He didnt stay very long
Eddie said the lights were low
Tom said the treble was high
The boy with a beard in the corner
Laughed in the middle of a sigh
Dont think we ever even caught his eye
Sometimes I used to find
Id be singing to you
As if you were sitting
At the table by the door
Eddie said a friend of his
Is making it big in l.a.
Ah well everybody down at malachys
Says Im gonna make it someday
Sometimes I used to write
A song for you
As if you were sitting
At the table by the door
Sometimes I used to find
Id be singing to you
As if you were sitting
At the table by the door
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Eve
Tis Christmas Eve with all the splendor of
Christmas lights gleaming through crystal
Glasses placed strategically among clusters
Of soft white cotton snow.
The room is filled with a scent of fresh pine,
Enjoyed by all who sit to dine
We reach our glasses in a toast to Jesus
And thank him for his grace
We celebrate this joyous Christmas Eve
with Jesus at the head of our table
poem by Melvina Germain
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Lunch Is Ready
you must have read before
that when a man is made to choose
between lunch
and poetry
he must choose lunch
it is 12: 20 noon
and if you wish
please finish this poem for me
make it say something
about hunger
the pinch in the stomach
the lack of guts
the impatience about life
for the meantime
i'll take what is offered on the table
i still have to chew
another idea that is fed in my mind
another poem
shaped like a fried chicken
scents of lumpia shanghai
images of white rice
exuding some fumes in
the light to the ceiling
clinking sounds of silver spoon and fork
and flowing clear drinking water
in the glass
in a whoosh
and the usual conversations
of sweet nothings
displayed on the table
like a soup
of bird's nest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bombing the Murrah Federal Building was morally and strategically equivalent to the U.S. hitting a government building in Serbia, Iraq, or other nations.
quote by Timothy McVeigh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crowded
Here I am
My trun to
sit at the
table
I've seen it
happening long
ago when
Perry Mason
was still in
black and white
Who knew he was
gay
I've visualized it
as I've read
books about famous
trials
Waiting for
the moment
Listening for
the moment
But there are
No attornerys
leaping to their
feet here
There's barely
enough room
at the table
for me
Attorney takes up part
My investigator takes up part
Then there's our notes
evidence and such
Not much room left
even for the water
the cups the napkins or
me
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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A Tale Of New Year
The table sits in darkened room
Its fare all spent its contents strewn
All use now ended, empty shell
A place where only thoughts now dwell
For this is last years empty table
Feasted on by all those able
Some who sat and joined the fest
Have left our mortal life to rest
Friends anew have stepped on board
As life continues rest assured
For in the light of room next door
The circle starts again once more
A brand new table full to flowing
What it holds not ours for knowing
Be sure this though safe from fear
To take your place for this New Year
Amongst the newly laid out feast
When hope and faith are all increased
Savour what this new year brings
As midnight bells chime 12 strong rings.
poem by Dave James
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Happy New Year?
The table sits in darkened room
Its fare all spent its contents strewn
All use now ended, empty shell
A place where only thoughts now dwell
For this is last years empty table
Feasted on by all those able
Some who sat and joined the fest
Have left our mortal life to rest
Friends anew have stepped on board
As life continues rest assured
For in the light of room next door
The circle starts again once more
A brand new table full to flowing
What it holds not ours for knowing
Be sure this though safe from fear
To take your place for this New Year
Amongst the newly laid out feast
When hope and faith are all increased
Savour what this new year brings
As midnight bells chime 12 strong rings.
poem by Dave James
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Round Table
we have this round table
and we put all our hands
on it when we eat and
drink and just talk for
hours and hours and
listen. And we ask what
is happening: Karding
broke a leg and Delia
is looking for the money.
Always it is the money.
Always she is short of
the money. And there
were jewelries hanging
on her neck and arms
and fingers, and we all
ask at this round table:
what is happening?
Nothing, don't mind at
all, this is just a part of
the round table, some
wine glass that broke
and must be swept at
once. We keep away the
sound of a crying pig.
We eat pigs here at this
round table. Then we shifted
the talk about our dead
parents. We pray. We
remember we keep on
saying this. We finish eating
the pig. We drink a very
cold water. Our throats
are irritated and we step
out of the room wanting
to pull away our tongues.
when we come back the
round table is empty.
and we laugh about a
joke that we remember.
our childhood games
the river, and the boat
that father made for us.
we turn off the tv and we
begin to talk about the
beautiful flowers in mother's
old garden, the secret one.
we agree. we miss it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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