Another Day
having the low down blues and going
into a restraunt to eat.
you sit at a table.
the waitress smiles at you.
she's dumpy. her ass is too big.
she radiates kindess and symphaty.
live with her 3 months and a man would no real agony.
o.k., you'll tip her 15 percent.
you order a turkey sandwich and a
beer.
the man at the table across from you
has watery blue eyes and
a head like an elephant.
at a table further down are 3 men
with very tiny heads
and long necks
like ostiches.
they talk loudly of land development.
why, you think, did I ever come
in here when I have the low-down
blues?
then the the waitress comes back eith the sandwich
and she asks you if there will be anything
else?
snd you tell her, no no, this will be
fine.
then somebody behind you laughs.
it's a cork laugh filled with sand and
broken glass.
you begin eating the sandwhich.
it's something.
it's a minor, difficult,
sensible action
like composing a popular song
to make a 14-year old
weep.
you order another beer.
jesus,look at that guy
his hands hang down almost to his knees and he's
whistling.
well, time to get out.
pivk up the bill.
tip.
go to the register.
pay.
pick up a toothpick.
go out the door.
your car is still there.
and there are 3 men with heads
and necks
like ostriches all getting into one
car.
they each have a toothpick and now
they are talking about women.
they drive away first
they drive away fast.
they're best i guess.
it's an unberably hot day.
there's a first-stage smog alert.
all the birds and plants are dead
or dying.
you start the engine.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
What Max Wanted
What do you want from me?
Max's wife said
and he looked by her
at the waitress
at the cafe
who was walking
with some order
behind his wife's back
and he noticed
the cute ass as she moved
the way she swayed
and the hands
holding the tray
huh? What is it
you want from me?
his wife repeated
her eyes peering at him
taking in
that aspect of him
as he turned his head
look said Max
following the waitress
to the table across the way
his eyes slowly
undressing her
his mind making up scenes
like in some movie
you say come on Honey
let's go out for a meal
and talk
and what are you doing
looking elsewhere
and not talking
his wife said
spittle on her lower lip
Max looked back
at his wife and said
oh yes sure
I was thinking
of the Picasso print
we saw the other day
you know that one
we both liked
and you said you'd like it
for your birthday
well maybe
I ought to get it
what do you think?
And the waitress
looked over at Max
as she went by
and he saw
a whole new ball game
in her eyes
and caught the cheek
and ear
and was sure
he captured some aspect
of her perfume
and his wife said
Picasso?
That Picasso?
are you sure Max?
and she went into a daze
and smiled
and Max imagined himself
and the waitress
and sex games
and a party
going wild.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Has His Own Way
as i enter this cheap
restaurant he also sits
on the other side
of the table on one
of those dusty
rattan chairs
i take my bite
he puts his
toothpick between
his lips and leave
them there
for a while
his hands are
on the table
holding an
orange as
though it is
a cotton bud
that his fingers
play with
he looks at me
and i look at
him. I know what
he wants
any simpleton
will know what
the tongue
has been doing
on the toothpick
between his lips
i look down the
floor and then
i decide to
leave. It is not
the usual rush
hour in this
hot city far
from my
rural home
where the mountains
protrude to touch
a bulging blue cloud.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hasty Marriage
Burden of a Hasty Marriage.
He saw her at the cafe she a cup of cacao and eating a cream cake,
he had a sandwich with cheese and ham. She looked up and smiled,
he knew she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Shy, as he was, still found the courage to get up and walk over to her
table and ask if he could eat his modest sandwich with her; she said
yes and they sat there in silence, just eating. Dimly he knew he had to
say something, but couldn’t but couldn’t find the words so he ate
the cup and saucer, the table cloth, serviettes and crumbs of her cake,
when he began eating the table she told him to stop. Ice broken he said
he loved her, she said she loved him, not to waste time they got married
in the afternoon. Found a hotel room and stayed in bed for a fortnight.
Made love in every position one could think of; they even forgot to eat.
Entwined they slept until a knock on the door, something about paying
for the room. For him was a welcomed distraction, got up had to go to
his bank he told her, two weeks in bed it stunk like a pig sty. Paid his bill
but didn’t enter their room, he was cured of love based on sex alone
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eat
Cold and dark in the morning
talk comes with a price
it is a bargain for the waitress
and diners get what they need.
The eggs are served with sympathy
for another birthday missed
the road is more than miles for
the trucker who takes them over hard.
Booth number 9 is an omelet and oatmeal
a preacher and acolyte looking for a church
the preacher's collar is frayed and yellowed
in service to a god who speaks too softly.
At the table by the door the farmers drink
coffee and talk of weather tractors prices
they have the look of a dying breed not because
they are old -their sons are off to college the
army the city or anywhere else
daughters will wait
not one of them will marry a farmer.
A young couple passing through
sits in number 8 close almost huddled
the boy counts his coins the girl looks cold
the waitress brings hot tea
'It's on the house honey.' They order toast
to share, she slips ham onto to the
plate when the cook's not looking
'I'll take that outta your tips.'
he never does.
The woman at the end of the counter
tattoos a glass with her lips
she is the blue plate special one egg
one pancake two strips of hard salty bacon
the long night gives her an appetite for
comfort and something real before going home
to wash the haze of stale cologne out of her hair.
Street lights go out
the sun promises warmth
diners pay bills homage thanks
and go out to live in the light
the waitress cleans tables
then counts her tips
She floats from counter to table
to booth serving coffee water eggs toast and
some things not on the menu
reassurance hope sustenance for the day
she takes their orders brings what they need
and all of this beneath a sign that says EAT.
poem by Ronald Shields
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Large
The quiet man exploded
like a termite full of
poison through the air
and on the table with
used napkins and a
quarter for a tip to
go to waitress who
had served the man a
tuna on a bread with
mayo sandwich and a
coffee and a jalapeno
chopped and mixed
with beans.
poem by Rick Stokes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Generic Blues
I woke up this morning
Then I went back to bed
Said I woke up this morning
Then I went right back to bed
Got a funny kind of feelin like I got broken glass in my underwear
And a herd of wild pigs is trying to chew off my head
You know what Im sayin
Well I aint got not money
Im just walkin down the road
Said I aint got no money, honey
So Im just walking down this lonely old road
Well, I wish I could get me some money
But I forgot my automated teller code
I was born in a paper sack in the bottom of a sewer
I had to eat dirt clods for breakfast, my family was so poor
My daddy was a waitress, my mama sold bathroom tiles
My brothers and sisters all hated me cause I was an only child
I got the blues so bad, woo
Kinda wish I was dead
Maybe Ill blow my brains out mama
Or maybe ill, yeah maybe Ill just go bowlin instead
Im just a no good, scum sucking, nose picking, boot licking, sniveling, groveling, worthless hunk of slime
Nothing but a low-down beer bellied, bone headed, pigeon toed, turkey necked, weasle faced, worthless hunk of slime
Guess I pretty low self image
Maybe its a chemical imbalance or something -- i
I should probably go and see a doctor about it when Ive got the time
Make it talk
Aw, make it talk, son, make it talk
Ok, now make it shut up
Plagues and famine and pestilence always seem to get me down
I always feel so miserable whenever Im around
I wish somebody would come along, stick a pitchfork through my brain
Id flush myself right down the toilet, but Id just clog up the drain
I got the blues so bad
Kinda wish I was dead
Maybe Ill blow my brains out mama
Or maybe Ill go bowling
Or I just might go bowling
Maybe Ill just rent some shoes and go bowling
Maybe Ill join a league, enter a tournament, put on a stupid looking
Shirt and go bowling instead
Yeah
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Overall
Blue overall
Overall the rooftops blue birds fly apart
Blue overall
Overall the bones that cage this stupid heart
Got blues drawing crosses on my front door
Blues abringing buckets round the back
Blues trying to push me from me white fence
And tar me a darker bluey black
For all this time
I really thought you loved me
For all this time
You only rubber gloved me
Blue overall
Overall my anvil gives no further sparks
Blue overall
Overall my fears swim hammer headed sharks
Got blues drinking beer out in the kitchen
Blue dog is barking to be fed
Got blues spilling wine upon me heartrug
Theyre holding a party in my head
For all this time
I really thought you loved me
For all this time
You merely went and shoved me
I tried to lose myself in labour
The more I push the mirth
Im giving birth to a babys turning
Blue overall
Feeling blue overall
All over Im turning blue
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Girls' Night Out
To our favourite pub in town, my friends and I, hurry.
For just over a fiver, we can order a drink and a curry.
From the bar, we grab our change and various drinks,
And there’s a loud chorus of ‘cheers! ’ as glasses clink.
At our table, we catch up on each others lives,
As a waitress brings each of us, forks and knives.
There’s a delicious aroma of food lingering in the air,
And my pangs of hunger, I almost can no longer bear.
We sit there chatting and laugh at each other’s jokes,
Whilst eyeing up some really dropp dead gorgeous blokes.
A waitress approaches, and puts our food on the table;
We’re starving and we all tuck in, as soon as we are able.
As we all get stuck in, our chatter is held, slightly, at bay,
Until the waitress returns, to clear our empty plates away.
I peruse the dessert menu and find myself unable to resist
Chocolate fudge cake, served with cream. Mmm! Pure bliss!
At the bar, I order my wickedly indulgent, calorie filled, treat,
And now feel happy and contented that my meal is complete.
I grab my purse as it’s my turn to buy another round of drinks.
Into the tall glasses, the ice cubes, dropp with a musical PLINK!
In high spirits, we decide to leave the warmth of the pub,
And head up town, to continue our night out, at a night club.
The DJ plays some fabulous Eighties retro dance tracks,
And the illuminated dance floor is almost constantly packed.
We’re soon on the dance floor, dancing the night away,
And, there, until the early hours of the morning, we stay.
By the time the club closes, we’re almost dead on our feet,
Having spent many a happy hour, dancing to the disco beat.
At the end of the night, we all head home to our beds.
We’re feeling happy, but very tired, it has to be said.
We tumble into our beds and very soon, we fall asleep,
And, from not a single one of us, is there another peep.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thanksgiving
Gettin' together to smile an' rejoice,
An' eatin' an' laughin' with folks of your choice;
An' kissin' the girls an' declarin' that they
Are growin' more beautiful day after day;
Chattin' an' braggin' a bit with the men,
Buildin' the old family circle again;
Livin' the wholesome an' old-fashioned cheer,
Just for awhile at the end of the year.
Greetings fly fast as we crowd through the door
And under the old roof we gather once more
Just as we did when the youngsters were small;
Mother's a little bit grayer, that's all.
Father's a little bit older, but still
Ready to romp an' to laugh with a will.
Here we are back at the table again
Tellin' our stories as women an' men.
Bowed are our heads for a moment in prayer;
Oh, but we're grateful an' glad to be there.
Home from the east land an' home from the west,
Home with the folks that are dearest an' best.
Out of the sham of the cities afar
We've come for a time to be just what we are.
Here we can talk of ourselves an' be frank,
Forgettin' position an' station an' rank.
Give me the end of the year an' its fun
When most of the plannin' an' toilin' is done;
Bring all the wanderers home to the nest,
Let me sit down with the ones I love best,
Hear the old voices still ringin' with song,
See the old faces unblemished by wrong,
See the old table with all of its chairs
An' I'll put soul in my Thanksgivin' prayers.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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Dubrovnik 1972.
Dubrovnik seemed
a second home,
and you, in a street
cafe, sat drinking coffee,
with that book on
Schopenhauer open
on the table, a cigarette
smoking in an ashtray
unattended, thinking
of the girl in the hotel
restaurant the night
before, the waitress
who smiled at you as
she served and went
by your table, and your
brother said, I don't
fancy yours much,
indicating with a nod
of head, another
waitress over by a
nearby table, plump
and spotted, wearing
a scowl instead of a
smile, and all the while,
he eyeing, as young
men do the beauty
that had caught your
eye going by, but all is
fair in love, so men
have said, so picking
up the book on
Schopenhauer, and
further reading,
holding the cigarette
between the fingers
of the hand not
turning pages, you
inhaled with deep
concentration the
smoke and words
spread across the
page, written by a
philosopher of a
foreign tongue
and different age.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Honky Tonk in Cleveland, Ohio
It's a jazz affair, drum crashes and coronet razzes.
The trombone pony neighs and the tuba jackass snorts.
The banjo tickles and titters too awful.
The chippies talk about the funnies in the papers.
The cartoonists weep in their beer.
Shop riveters talk with their feet
To the feet of floozies under the tables.
A quartet of white hopes mourn with interspersed snickers:
"I got the blues.
I got the blues.
I got the blues."
And . . . as we said earlier:
The cartoonists weep in their beer.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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A Little Less Talk And A Lot More Action
I was getting kinda tired of her endless chatter
Nothing I could say ever seemed to matter
So I took a little drive just to clear my head
I saw a flashing neon up ahead
It looked like a place to find some satisfaction
With a little less talk and a lot more action
I paid the man at the door and pushed my way to the bar
Shouted for a drink over a screaming guitar
A drunk on a stool tried to mess with my head
But I didn't even listen to a word he said
I knew somewhere amid all this distraction
Was a little less talk and a lot more action
A little less talk if you please
A lot more loving is what I need
Let's get on down to the main attraction
With a little less talk and a lot more action
Well she was fighting them off at a corner table
She had a longneck bottle she was peeling the label
The look on her face it was perfectly clear
She said somebody please get me out of here
The look she shot me through the glass refraction
Said a little less talk and a lot more action
A little less talk if you please
A lot more loving is what I need
Let's get on down to the main attraction
With a little less talk and a lot more action
A little less talk
A lot more loving
Let's get on down to the main attraction
With a little less talk and a lot more action
Get on down to the main attraction
With a little less talk and a lot more action
song performed by by Toby Keith from Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dunes
What do we see here in the sand dunes of the white moon alone with our thoughts, Bill,
Alone with our dreams, Bill, soft as the women tying scarves around their heads dancing,
Alone with a picture and a picture coming one after the other of all the dead,
The dead more than all these grains of sand one by one piled here in the moon,
Piled against the sky-line taking shapes like the hand of the wind wanted,
What do we see here, Bill, outside of what the wise men beat their heads on,
Outside of what the poets cry for and the soldiers drive on headlong and leave their skulls in the sun for—what, Bill?
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's probably not a good idea to be chewing on a toothpick if you're talking to the president, because what if he tells a funny joke and you laugh so hard you spit the toothpick out and it hits him in the face or something.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Invitation.
She invited Joey
to her apartment
on the second floor
and as she opened the door
her dog came
barking along the hall
Shut up Bonaparte
she said
Go away
and the mutt walked back
with its tail
between its legs
to its basket
under the table
and she ushered Joey in
and closed the door behind her
and said
What would you like to drink?
tea coffee coke beer?
Coke will be fine
he said
and she told him
to go sit in the lounge
and once he sat down
he looked around the room
and on the small table
by the sofa where he sat
was a photograph of her
and her husband
taken on their wedding day
she dressed in white
and smiling
and he in a black suit
like a hit man
in a mobster movie
and she came in
with his coke
and set it on the table
by the sofa
and then went out again
swaying her behind
which made him smile
then she was back
with a tall glass
of white wine
and she set it down
on the table beside him
and sat down
and began talking
about the night
he had met her
and her husband
in the bar in town
and how she had invited
him over to meet her husband
and he had bought them
both a drink
and while her husband
talked to his friend
she had flirted with him
and made him laugh
and how after that
they'd all meet
on Friday evenings
in the same bar
and her husband
had invited him
to their place
to play chess
and he remembered
how he used to play chess
holding off letting
her husband win
so he could stay longer
and see her more often
and then she leaned over
to get her drink
and she put one hand
on his thigh
and reached over
for her wine
and he smelt her scent
and the brush of her hair
as she leaned over him
and having her glass
she leaned back
her hand still resting
on his thigh
and that look of mischief
burning in her eye.
poem by Terry Collett
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Long Way Back
(bill rice/sharon rice)
(track 6 - time 3:33)
Sitting in a cafe at the corner of broad and grand
Stirring up old memories and the coffee in my hand
The waitress stopped and asked me
Honey do you know what you want
I had to stop myself from telling her the truth
What I really need is another chance with you
But this temper train Im on just ran away too fast
Its a long, long, way back to you baby
Its a long, long, way back
The neon clock is humming showing sign of wear
Ive lost all sense of time since Ive been sitting here
The waitress asked again
Is there something else you need
I need to take the hands off that clock above my head
Reset the time and take back everything I said
If I could turn around, then I would erase my tracks
But its a long, long way back, to you baby
Its a long, long way back
It is a lonely road a fool travels down
I guess I oughta know cause thats where Im headed now
And its a long, its a long, way back
Sitting at the cafe just ruby lee and me
I get feeling shes waiting on me to leave
She stopped askin hours ago if I know what I want
Yeah but its a long, long way back, to you baby
Its a long, long way back
I miss you darlin
Its a long, long way back
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Less Talk & A Lot More Action
(keith hinton/alan stewart)
I was getting kinda tired
Of her endless chatter
Nothing I could say
Ever seemed to matter
So I took a little drive
Just to clear my head
I saw a flashing neon up ahead
It looked like a place
To find some satisfaction
With a little less talk
And a lot more action
I paid the man at the door
And pushed my way to the bar
Shouted for a drink
Over a screaming guitar
A drunk on a stool
Tried to mess with my head
But I didnt even listen
To a word he said
I knew somewhere
Amid all this distraction
Was a little less talk
And a lot more action
A little less talk
If you please
A lot more loving
Is what I need
Lets get on down
To the main attraction
With a little less talk
And a lot more action
Well she was fighting them off
At a corner table
She had a longneck bottle
She was peeling the label
The look on her face
It was perfectly clear
She said somebody please
Get me out of here
The look she shot me
Through the glass refraction
Said a little less talk
And a lot more action
A little less talk
If you please
A lot more loving
Is what I need
Lets get on down
To the main attraction
With a little less talk
And a lot more action
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The little things that make my teeth clean
Of course, the champion is the toothpick
Always the wooden, bamboo toothpick
Or could be the fine dental floss
But I always need a mirror to use that
And eventually I find it more expensive
And time consuming
And then I can have a little twig
Of guava,
I like the odor and I have the
Last chew and
Oh my
I can chew the same and swallow
But without the toothpick or the floss
And when I am in a bus and there is
No guava tree
I simply have my tongue and the
Nail helping it to get rid
Of
You know what.
Life is like that.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That's How I Like It
Where I come from it's grits and gravy
Not champagne caviar got a pick up truck ain't no Mercedes
That's who we are (I wouldn't change a thing)
I ain't no saint - somtimes a sinner
And I can't tell you why
But I get up every morning and thank the man above (ooh my life is good)
Like my women hot and my beer ice cold
A real fast car and my whiskey old
Like a slow drive down a long dirt road
That's how I like it
I like to turn my music way up loud
Ain't nothin better than the sound of a crowd
That American flag makes me proud
That's why I like it
That's why we like it, yeah
Ain't no cell phone towers
You won't catch me online
Workin' with my hands for hours
We got everything we need oooh
Like my women hot and my beer ice cold
A real fast car and my whiskey old
Like a slow drive down a long dirt road
That's how I like it
I like to turn my music way up loud
Ain't nothin better than the sound of a crowd
That American flag makes me proud
That's why I like it
That's why we like it, yeah
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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