A Day And Date
Nests to birds and holes to foxes,
Of the olive oil and honey on my table;
But in the obscurity of darkness,
The harvest time is very great.
Unmarked graves,
The choicest wine at the beginning of love;
There is a day and a date for everyone.
Of the rich man's table and the poor man's table,
Like homes without numbers to compare with these graves;
But you need ten silver coins to reach my home.
A fig tree with leaves and the horse-walk of things,
You need a 'pencilcure' act to note my mind;
And from 'dreamontology' to 'dondoorlogy'to what is prepared.
The king and the Queen do seek for me,
But i am always missing out of their sites;
Since i do have a day and a date on my lovers heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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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The Table of Hope
Inspired by JOEY VELASCO'S painting, HAPAG NG PAG-ASA
(The Table Of Hope)
Thank you, Lord for this wonderful show
Of happy faces, sincere and true
Without asking why who we are, what we wear
Without doubts, without fear, without a tear
Here we are in your table, your children in the street
Celebrating your birthday in the simplest way
In your table of hope, sharing your food
Where your presence is what we're after
Christmas miracle do happen,
Because you wanted it to be
You choose us, the weak, the poor and the lame
To share with you, to be with you
In the table of hope..in the table of hope..
Thank you, Jesus, for giving us hope
Thank you, Jesus, for Christmas
Note: thank you for reading.You can search
and type Joey Velasco in the Google website & You Tube
and you will be led to his great paintings
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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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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Heavenly Banquet
I went to the heavenly banquet
The table that Jesus had set.
and broke the bread and drank the wine
nourishing this poor soul of mine.
Then my spirit soared heavenward
as before His table I stood
knowing that He loved me so much
experiencing His tender touch.
I felt complete and satisfied
there with Jesus the crucified.
The wine was rich, the bread so sweet
as I worshipped there at His feet.
My soul fed very well that day
as I journeyed upon my way.
and back into my home I went
my spirit feeling so content.
None Of Them
Through the hill country,
Through the valley of love,
Where, young women were drawing some water;
But, the loaves of bread on your table means a lot to me.
The home of the seer,
The home of the poet,
The home of the artist,
And like Shaul the son of Kish!
But, the loaves bread on your table means a lot to me.
A nose longer,
A head taller,
A mouth smaller,
And, to the place of love;
With seven days of care.
To the high places,
With food in our sacks;
Servants,
Slaves,
From Dan to Beersheba! !
But, who is she?
Three days of love,
A journey to America;
But, she turned into another woman!
However, wriring my poems like a pastor's note is what i presented.
Who is he?
The great tree of peace;
And like three days ago with your love,
But, a journey to Africa is what you need.
He turned into another man!
And like the customs of the mummers and wild men;
But, on Rachel's tomb i will rest my mind.
A journey to Asia,
A journey to Australia,
A jouney to Europe;
And to stimulate the deities! !
Ashod, Gaza, Ashkelon, Gath and Ekron;
But the goddess of the dawn came around!
However, none of the Apostles celebrated Easter.
What is my mind?
What is in my heart?
What is on your table?
What is in your soup?
What is in your mouth?
But, on Rachel's tomb i will rest my mind;
For, none of them could satisfy my muse.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Red Rose and Chardonnay
A dinner with chardonnay
Plates of love whilst piano play
A love song of long ago.
She sat by the table
A hands folded like napkin in array
And red roses on the table
Of two love birds
Today are their anniversary.
She excused herself
As the waiter arranged the table.
Today is their day
But her lover has another.
She waited for an hour
For he promised to surrender
The love he has for her.
She begged him not to part
But…he’s not here.
Nor his shadow emerged
Red rose and chardonnay
are now abandoned- by the table.
She exits in the moonless sky.
poem by Tess Rockenstire
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Home
Home is where we sit the table
festooned in the joy
a quiet meal can mean
we two comfort our souls
while our two muffled voices buffet the air
blending with the candlelight.
Our slow night languishes
as we sip wine
smelling the rose bouquet
talking aimlessly;
more company
than discourse;
that being enough
for what we crave;
each heart
bathed in the reciprocity
deep emotions bring.
So here's my toast
to you my love;
you'll always have
this table set in this home
which is always here for you.
The home
which is always here;
in my heart.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Winter Evening
When snow falls against the window,
Long sounds the evening bell...
For so many has the table
Been prepared, the house set in order.
From their wandering, many
Come on dark paths to this gateway.
The tree of grace is flowering in gold
Out of the cool sap of the earth.
In stillness, wanderer, step in:
Grief has worn the threshold into stone.
But see: in pure light, glowing
There on the table: bread and wine.
poem by Georg Trakl
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The Poor
Out of the farm came the harvest,
And out of the kitchen came the food well prepared;
Then it was set on the table for you to eat,
But do think about the poor when you do have enough.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Everything In Its Own Time
Remember everything I told you
Keep it in your heart like a stone
And when the winds have blown things round and back again
What was once your pain will be your home
All around the table the white haired men have gathered
Spilling their sons blood like table wine
(spilling their sons blood)
Remember everything I told you
Everything in its own time
The music whispers you in urgency
Hold fast to that languageless connection
A thread of known that was unknown and unseen seen
Dangling from inside the fifth direction
(dangling from inside the fifth direction)
Boys around the table are mapping out their strategies
Kings all of mountains one day dust
A lesson learned a loving God and things in their own time
In nothing more do I trust
We own nothing
Nothing is ours
Not even love so fierce it burns like baby stars
But this poverty is our greatest gift
(nothing is ours)
The weightlessness of us as things around begin to shift
(the weightlessness as things begin to shift)
Remember everything I told you
(remember everything I told you)
Keep it in your heart like a stone
(keep it in your heart like a stone)
And when the winds have blown things round and back again
(when the winds have blown things round)
What was once your pain will be your home
Everything in its own time
Everything in its own time
Oh
Oh
Oh
Oh
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Table
This table is reserved an invitation for two,
only one sits alone and the other chair is bare.
He waits and waits as the hours creep through.
Stares at the empty space and wonders where are you.
He looks at his watch as another hour ticks by,
looks at the door to see who is coming through.
He feels eyes staring, probably wondering whom
he is waiting for as the minutes turn to hours.
The empty chair remains bare
as outside the sun sets as night begins to call.
This table is reserved for two, but where are you?
He thinks of all the reasons why you could be late
for this most important date.
He has rehearsed his lines of what he purposed to say.
The box with the ring within his pocket stays.
Where are you he wonders, do you love him anymore?
The negative thoughts invaded his mind
as he waits looking at the door, just waiting for you.
Finally the waiter comes along and tells him they are about to close.
He gives one last look at the door, then gets up and goes.
The reserved table for two stands empty and bare.
Those who should have sat there are gone never to return,
and as the light go out the table stands alone and forlorn.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Michelle's Surprise
Michelle is a spinster in her thirties
she's lived and knows the score.
She'd finally found a likeable man,
divorced and single for sure.
She allowed herself several weeks
to ensure he was Mr Right.
Over shadowing all her past lovers,
he was sincere, loving, and bright.
For twelve weeks she lived in heaven,
until she discovered a lie.
He was using an on line dating service,
seeking relationships on the sly.
She thought, don't get mad get even,
and joined the same dating site.
As another woman she replied to his posting
and arranged a date for a Friday night.
Michelle saw her mark anxiously waiting,
like a lion at a table set for two.
Whilst champagne cooled in the bucket,
his ardour was showing through.
She calmly walked up to the table,
pulled out a chair and sat down.
'Hello Mark, what are you doing here? '
He twitched and anxiously looked around.
'Oh, I'm just waiting for someone.'
'Someone special I dare say, ' said Michelle,
'champagne suppers are so romantic,
especially when you expect to do well.'
'Michelle, what you are implying,
I'm just having dinner with a friend.'
'Well aren't you just a cheating liar,
I'm your date, and this is the end!
She took the champagne from the bucket
and emptied the contents on his head.
'I think this concludes our date nicely,
and there's nothing more to be said! '
poem by Orlando Belo
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Mulanje Mountain
The flavour of mount Mulanje grins
In the thick of low clouds it grips
The palace of peace wrapped in sighing love
While species of birds, fly in amazing gaze
And up the thickest sleeps the king of the game park
As the spirits welcome new comers at such traditional table
That table of flavoured soup
That sinks in the touring level
The mother's love that hisses
The great ancestral home
There, Sapitwa wears on a frozen dome
and comes out like a cursed torso
that leads height of the time
above nobody's reach
Here mysteries of the land
hide and settle
As it provides unit scorees of running noses
The spirit drink and dance
Adorned in odd shaddows of humanity
Mountain of hope to run ancestory life
In the midst of our political rife
For we are no more ignorant of
your kingdom
That elevation of hope
of pride
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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Relaxed Feet On The Table Surface
we do not wish to explore more
what life is
we are here we must live it
in daily celebration
i like the sunrise with my feet
comforted by the surface of the table
my shoes are dirty
but i never mind the weeping of the table cloth
i got lemonade on my hand
pancake glazed with pure honey from the farm
the world is standing still
i shy away from silly talk this time
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Table And The Chair
Said the Table to the Chair,
'You can hardly be aware
How I suffer from the heat,
And from chilblains on my feet!
If we took a little walk,
We might have a little talk!
Pray let us take the air!'
Said the Table to the Chair.
Said the Chair unto the Table,
'Now you know we are not able!
How foolishly you talk,
When you know we cannot walk!'
Said the Table with a sigh,
'It can do no harm to try;
I've as many legs as you;
Why can't we walk on two?'
So they both went slowly down,
And walked about the town
With a cheerful bumpy sound,
As they toddled round and round.
And everybody cried,
As they hastened to their side,
'See! the Table and the Chair
Have come out to take the air!'
But, in going down an alley
To a castle in the valley,
They completely lost their way,
And wandered all the day
Till, to see them safely back,
They paid a Ducky-quack,
And a Beetle, and a Mouse,
Who took them to their house.
Then they whispered to each other,
'O delightful little brother!
What a lovely walk we've taken!
Let us dine on Beans and Bacon!'
So the Ducky and the leetle
Browny-Mousy and the Beetle
Dined, and danced upon their heads
Till they toddled to their beds.
poem by Edward Lear
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Table Bay
The sun sets over table bay
and that rough sea lies calm
and a moon rises full,
above the waves
and the thundering breakers
roar like they did
many years before
Odysseus sailed from the island of Ithaca
and went to Troy to war
where he accompanied the heroes
Neoptolemus and Philoctetes and the
armour and shield of great Achilles,
was his to take
and for years he dwelt
on stormy seas and in far away lands.
If per chance his ship would stray
and reach the cape of storms
in another age and time
and his eyes could see
the beauty of that lovely shore,
no other place would
his ship sail to
When Bartolomeu Dias set his ships sails
and left king John ashore,
he was prepared to sail
to the ends of the earth
and no horrendous sea creature
could keep his ships in check.
I wonder what he thought
when the fog faded away
and table mount sprang into view
and table bay lay stretched out
up to its shore
and when he set his cross
did he know that he was marking
a great place
and when he marked his charts
did he wish to come back
to that stormy Cape?
When King John gave the name
Cabo da Bõa Esperança,
did he know that he was naming a place
from where a nation would sprout
and that it would become a city of hope?
[Reference: =>”Cabo da Bõa Esperança=>Cape of Good Hope”]
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Wonder.
In Flanders Fields red poppies grow.
But long dead warriors lie below.
Their rotted bodies nourishing
The scarlet poppies flourishing..
As if to draw attention to.
The graves of men who never knew.
That they would not see their homes more
But here they lie for evermore.
In Flanders Fields lost heroes lie.
In unmarked graves beneath the sky.
Far from the which gave them birth
They add their substance to the earth.
Which Belgian farmers cultivate.
Selected randomly by fate.
There can be few survivors left
But those of us who choose to go
To Flanders where the poppies grow.
All make the trip to show respect
Numbers dwindling as you'd expect.
There's very few now left to go.
To see the scarlet poppies glow
The numbers grow less day by day.
When they are called they must obey.
Rejoining those who went before.
The men who fell in the Great War.
I wonder will poppies still grow
When there's no one left to go.
Monday,25 June 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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Friends For Tea
Friends For Tea
This morning by the river I saw an enormous snail shell,
and no one was at home as far as I could tell.
Anyway, I knocked three times and then twice more,
and then a sleepy lob eared rabbit came to the door.
“What do you want, ” said rabbit, “Snail has moved on.”
“Oh, I was just curious to know where he had gone.”
“The snail had grown too large for this humble abode,
so now I live here, with my friend King Toad.
I believe Snail has moved much closer to the wood,
he said a tree house would be better, in fact twice as good.
To be honest I think he’s made a terrible mistake,
if he should fall his shell would surely break.
My good friend King Toad and I most certainly agree
that life shouldn’t be spent on the branch of a tree.
You weren’t by the way thinking of moving in here
because there’s not enough room for three to share? ”
“Oh dear no, not I, I have my own cosy little place,
which I share with my friends, Freddie and Grace.
Would you and King Toad like to come to my house for tea?
We’re having scones with cream, and the freshest honey? ”
“I hope you won’t be offended, but I really must decline,
King Toad is a direct descendent of a most royal line.
He’s obnoxious, rude and arrogant, with his cutting jar,
and I can’t take him anywhere with his okay yah.”
A loud deep voice from within the shell echoed out the door,
“We’ll accept your invitation sir, of that I am most sure.”
King Toad came to the entrance with a crown upon his head,
“I hope you’ll go to plenty of trouble, ” he impudently said.
What a surprise; I didn’t know whether to bow or curtsy.
“Shall we say tea time, around about four thirty? ”
Rabbit and King Toad agreed with a smile on their face,
so off I went to tell Freddie the spider and mouse Grace.
As teatime approached everything was prepared,
the table was set with five different sized chairs.
King Toad and rabbit arrived precisely on time
dressed in fancy hats, they didn’t half look fine.
“Welcome to our home, ” said the mouse and spider.
Toad rudely barged in and said, “Have you got any cider? ”
“I’m terribly sorry your highness, but we’ve only got tea,
and that’s usually enough for Freddie, Grace, and me.”
“Oh very well, I suppose tea will have to do,
but it must have ten spoons of sugar, and lemon too.”
“Would you prefer jam or honey, with your buttered scone? ”
“Both if you don’t mind, that’s what I normally have at home.”
“Now then friend rabbit what would you like to eat? ”
“A watercress sandwich would be very hard to beat.”
King Toad extended his tongue and gulped down poor spider,
and in an instant Grace had Toad swallowed up inside her.
Rabbit leaped across the table towards Grace the mouse
and the ensuing chase nearly wrecked the house.
With Grace now gone, friend rabbit and I sat down to tea,
and by supper, rabbit had also gone, ‘burp’ pardon me!
poem by Orlando Belo
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Virginity
Be careful now and drink no wine or strong drink,
For you will conceive and bear a son soon;
But let me alone for two moons so that,
I may go and wander on the hills to bewail my virginity.
She was a virgin but,
What is sweeter than honey?
She was a woman and,
You have to take care of her before the sun goes down;
For you've used my heifer and her love and,
You should now allow me to go into my bride.
Of the bridal chamber of love and,
Of the muse of your history around the town;
And like hundred foxes tied tail to tail together,
But i may still go and wander to bewail my virginity.
Olive groves and the flame of love,
Have you seen what the Romans have made out of you? !
And they raised their voices and wept,
For you've used her and used my heifer.
Can i find honour in your eyes my love?
For you've saved my life on this love;
And of the sword and bow that laid beside you,
But prepare me a table and let me eat tonight.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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