Walking Tables
How do tables walk as one?
And why do chairs seem to run?
How my rest is desired, and how
Do I kick in the air for relaxation?
My chimney is found with the soot
Of a black utterance, as seemly as light;
The light travels up and down the world,
With smoke, crime is committed, like walking
Chairs and turning tables, this world is one.
With this house may I live alone,
Where wolves like criminals detest you.
Anyone walked a long distance, anyway,
Justice must be allowed, and searched
By the home and heaven.
How do tables and chairs move?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
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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The Tables and Chairs
The tables resent the chairs, apt to sit
Like the people who sit, forming froth
And food, tables so clean, a likeable soot.
This may disguise chemistry, even biology,
Between the anger and hatred is beauty,
Fully we admire them who talk of it.
The table is sweeter with food than the chair with people,
And who does not eat on this furniture of the soul,
This future of living, kindness is adored,
For we are abhorrent in conversation, in laughter.
poem by Naveed Akram
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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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I have made a great discovery. What I love belongs to me. Not the chairs and tables in my house, but the masterpieces of the world. It is only a question of loving them enough.
quote by Princess Elizabeth Asquith Bibesco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness
The great stone Hall is silent
that is now millennia old.
Through the western windows
shines a glorious sun.
It floods the walls and floors,
the tables, chairs and doors,
panelling, pictures, artefacts
and illumines every one
until the wraiths that gather
cry out in their joy,
'Everything is gold!
Whatever is, is gold! '
A majestic cloud
emerges from the southern sea,
slides across the western sky
blotting out the sun.
Light through those western windows
pales to a thin grey day.
It dims the walls and floors,
the tables, chairs and doors,
panelling, pictures, artefacts
pales every one
until the wraiths in the shadows
cry out in dismay,
'Gone is gold, the gold is gone!
All joy has passed away! '
poem by Brian Taylor
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Everything from the little house was in the wagon, except the beds and tables and chairs. They did not need to take these, because Pa could always make new ones.
quote by Laura Ingalls Wilder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Orient Express
One looks from the train
Almost as one looked as a child. In the sunlight
What I see still seems to me plain,
I am safe; but at evening
As the lands darken, a questioning
Precariousness comes over everything.
Once after a day of rain
I lay longing to be cold; after a while
I was cold again, and hunched shivering
Under the quilt's many colors, gray
With the dull ending of the winter day,
Outside me there were a few shapes
Of chairs and tables, things from a primer;
Outside the window
There were the chairs and tables of the world ...
I saw that the world
That had seemed to me the plain
Gray mask of all that was strange
Behind it -- of all that was -- was all.
But it is beyond belief.
One thinks, "Behind everything
An unforced joy, an unwilling
Sadness (a willing sadness, a forced joy)
Moves changelessly"; one looks from the train
And there is something, the same thing
Behind everything: all these little villages,
A passing woman, a field of grain,
The man who says good-bye to his wife --
A path through a wood all full of lives, and the train
Passing, after all unchangeable
And not now ever to stop, like a heart --
It is like any other work of art,
It is and never can be changed.
Behind everything there is always
The unknown unwanted life.
poem by Randall Jarrell
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The Bungler
You glow in my heart
Like the flames of uncontrolled candles.
But when I go to warm my hands,
My clumsiness overturns the light,
and then I stumble
Against the tables and chairs.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Reflection 0.3
when loneliness is overwhelming
miracles happen
tables speak to chairs and
chairs are amazed to their
new actions
the roof cannot be stopped
telling something to the floor
and the garden too and the fence
and the stair and all of them here
entangled in a relationship of such closeness
that you begin to stop thinking about how to end
and lose yourself
presences are born and they begin to speak
and it is you who has become one inanimate human figure
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Common sense says that chairs and tables exist independently of whether anyone happens to perceive them or not.
quote by Charles D. Broad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hairdresser
Have you understood tables and chairs?
Underneath the bench are a number of hairs.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Mouse and House
Underneath the tables responds the mouse,
Inside it weeps, and soaks up water in its house.
Its house is a follower’s abode, of stealth,
May the tables bend and steal the wealth.
In its house we found the treasure of cool surroundings,
There was gold, water and many, many beginnings.
The gold was stationary, like the hostility in the tables,
The real dining occurred in this hole for animals.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Turntable
[sponsor]
I used to walk around like
Nothing could happen to me
Life is a gamble so i
Should live life more carefully
But all I know is that i
Control my own destiny
I used to look at others
Instead of me blaming me
Bridge:
Dont ask yourself why
Just look to the sky
Believe that soon youll see the other side
Chorus:
I know
That through all the struggle
Theres a bright road
At the end of the tunnel
Now you should know
Whatever your dilemma may be
Youll learn
Life is worth it
Watch the tables turn
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Whenever you feel troubled
With problems coming your way
Dont ever get discouraged
Theres always a better day
We all dont know the answers
Believe and trust when I say
That havin faith is always
The way to make things okay
Bridge
Chorus
Thats right
Alright
Youve had your ups and downs but
It happened for a reason
Cause after april showers
There will come a change of season
So please dont give up now cuz
The suns shinin through the clouds
Its gonna be alright
I know
Chorus
Chorus
Watch the tables turn
(watch the tables turn)
Watch the tables turn
(watch the tables turn)
Watch the tables turn
(watch the tables turn)
Watch the tables turn
(watch the tables turn)
song performed by by TLC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Halcyon And After
It was May or June, I met you:
Business, something or other.
Your study, when you showed me in
Was full of the sun, drenched with gold:
From work strewn across tables, chairs
You turned to me and smiled -
And I was dazzled.
You made me tea with bergamot
And we talked and talked, all the things
Our loved ones dare not hear.
At last, when I stood up to go
I saw your eyes diving back,
Sad and wise, into shafts of light
And I thought: 'She is the one.
I can tell her anything'.
But humid grey clouded the sun
That day your skirt revealed your legs:
I stared too long.
Your smile became a laugh
And you sheathed your tongue.
From then on, we were colleagues.
The night I saw you last
I walked you home half way:
We practised conversation,
Venturing nothing.
Suddenly, you slipped from my side:
I watched you walk to your future
Through summer dark and street lights,
May and June, another year.
poem by Richard George
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I May Still Move On...
if you go away
from the darkness of my room
in the middle
of my struggle for
a little flicker of light
dreaming
of stars and hoping
still for fireflies
if you go away
i may still manage to find
my way through
this mess of crowded
chairs and
misplaced tables
if you go away
i may still sit beside the window
facing the sunset
and enduring the darkness
without a single star
i may still think
about you and us
reminiscing what used
to be there
i may still be strong
and take my self intact
with dignity and pride
and be
friendly still with
sleep
things may still move on
like planets revolving
on their orbits
i sigh...things are never the
same again...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Grey The World Was
How grey the world was with its memories,
How dark even this gay room where the motes run!
How black these curtains, thick with murder cries,
These chairs, this floor with things slain in the sun!
'Twas here I strangled love, a year ago,
And hid it 'neath these pillows drenched in blood,
As a mad mother her sweet babe of woe,
Too strong to die, too fair, which shrieks aloud.
How black and bare and bitter the world was
Just yesterday! To--day, this room, dear Heaven,
What laughters fill it! what light footsteps pass!
See, the white chairs dance round me pleasure--driven,
And these sad pillows, where I wept, blab out
The news that you are here, in psalm and shout!
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Beach Chairs
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the setting sun
holding hands and reminiscing
how it all begun
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the ships out on the sea
holding hands and smiling
together we're meant to be
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching people walking past
holding hands and knowing
that our love will always last
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the waves along the shore
holding hands we realize
our love is stronger than before
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the changing tide
holding hands with happiness
to be by each others side
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the sunrise
holding hands with tears of joy
there are no more good-byes
poem by Joyce Ebrecht
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Dying of non-expression
discuss me flat
carpets and a doormat
fill me fridge
buy me chairs
fix all repairs
love me so much
take me to lunch
let me get it straight
i am not great
not grateful at all
regardless of chairs
repairs and all the cares
when my hosts are gone
i just want to be alone
guess i'm my best
household guest
deep in the night
turning on the light
and finally begin
to write
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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If You Want To Say Goodbye
Don’t stand on the bridge
For – you know-
It would ruin the whole thing
About crossing to whatever side
Take me to the Zoo
And show me all the encaged animals
With sad eyes and neatly combed fur
And I will understand
Take me to a dim lit café
Where we can cry together
And we’ll get a free drink from the owner
For goodbyes are always on the house
Take me to your place
Where I can touch the chairs and tables
Look at your cd-s once again
Remember your favourite songs to sing
If you want to say goodbye
You don’t even have to take me anywhere
You can just leave without a word
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Bagatelle...
shying from the outside world
where the sun can make a thousand bites
the king through his ministers
evolved
from efforts of bringing croquet
and shuffleboard
inside and
atop tables....
in the Great Hall at
Hatfield House
the tables have become smaller
enjoying the holes
in the middle
of their chores....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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