A Modest Table
A Modest Table
The table is like a flag wrapped little coffin
only it is not a flag of hubris and nationality,
but a cloth with roses, sewed by a woman
with time at hand and love in her heart.
The table is rough hewn but solid it will not
suffer illnesses of old age, but perhaps get
wood-worms.
It will last longer than I will, till new owners
will throw it on the dump or break it up and
use it as firewood a cold winter night.
In the meantime, as we wait, I rest my feet on
it when watching TV.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mom Sets the Table
Night after night my mom sets the table
full of joy she passes her hand over the green fleat
like dishes she lays her chips down
they her finest china carefully stacked
her drink is the insurance bet
night after night 21 meals are servered
6 people share the meal with her
we her family eat alone
yet night after night my mom sets the table
the table of broken dreams and poisoned meals
night after night she countinues to eat
untill is consumed
Night after night my mom sets the table
night after night we her family shallow the bitter meal she makes
Night after night my mom sets the table.....
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mom Sets the Table
Night after night my mom sets the table
full of joy she passes her hand over the green fleat
like dishes she lays her chips down
they her finest china carefully stacked
her drink is the insurance bet
night after night 21 meals are servered
6 people share the meal with her
we her family eat alone
yet night after night my mom sets the table
the table of broken dreams and poisoned meals
night after night she countinues to eat
untill is consumed
Night after night my mom sets the table
night after night we her family shallow the bitter meal she makes
Night after night my mom sets the table
poem by Vincent Armone
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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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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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Colin The Cumberland Sausage
Colin the Cumberland sausage
was as happy as a pig in mud.
Today the master butcher made him
for the table of Mr Wood.
So full of beans was Colin
he was nearly bursting from his skin,
until the butcher wrapped him in paper
for the errand boy to deliver him.
Colin the Cumberland sausage
was delivered the very same day
to Publican Wood at the Barley Mow pub
who would cook him in the usual way.
Colin was laid out on the table
ready to go in the pan,
but Wuffer the dog entered the kitchen
and took Colin in his mouth and ran.
Now nobody knows what became of Colin
we assume he was eaten by the dog,
but don’t be surprised to see his brother
on the table of the Barley Mow pub.
poem by Orlando Belo
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It is the soldier who salutes the flag, serves beneath the flag, whose coffin is draped by the flag who gives that protester the freedom to abuse and burn that flag.
quote by Zell Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Other
I sit at this tiny table
and wait
as I have before
for you to make
excuses to get
away;
to steal the tiny time
you have with me.
I know I should go,
break away
and leave
but I don't.
I sip my coffee
swirling in the cup
mixing my milk
and your strong brew.
Perhaps one day
there will be a me and you
but today-right now
there is only me.
I feel you at my side
suddenly
your face
comes over me
and once again
there is the peace
you offer
each time we meet.
That is the drug
which overpowers
each time
I
the other woman;
and we
reach across
the tiny table
re-joined
in tiny time
the tiny space
we allow ourselves
to enjoy
rarely,
this other me
that other you.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Breakfast That We Cannot Eat Together
this is the breakfast that we cannot eat together a fish fried in an oil
with so much heat, like ' who cares? ' a rice not well cooked which says ' it is the maid again! ' a coffee which has gone cold which says ' you come late again! ' a egg which is not sunny side up a ham that does not roll a dirty table with an unwashed table cloth which says 'change it yourself! '
how can i eat all these?
i am late for the office and i have to go.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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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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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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Table
Who is sitting at our table
In our favourite restaurant.
Looking into each others eyes
While chatter smothers
Loving sighs.
As she holds his hand to squeeze
Under the table.
Will our ghosts drift on the breeze
Out of the window
Through the trees.
To be lost forever
Like a heartbeat
In dark streets
To pass away
Like loving nights on satin sheets.
Who sits at your table
Where candlelight
Lit your smile.
And we drank red wine in style.
To taste the sweetness
On your lips
The fruit of love
Minus the pips.
All out plans
We'd always discuss.
You would always make a fuss
About what you would wear
On our wedding day.
At that table
Our guest of fate did sit.
But didn't rest,
Couldn't stay.
Leaving me alone in twilight meadow
Like one last flower
To sway.
poem by Kevin East
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Zoom-in
Snow flowers in the midst of lonely night,
Lonely moments wrapped in the mist,
The walkway, lit with the dim light of moon,
Cold and black road at
The gate of deserted house,
A forlorn voice, clings desperately to the window,
Doorsill, drowned in an unknown fear,
Everything, bewildered andspeechless,
Weary and desolate,
A lone candle on the table,
With the head thrown back
Eyes, fixed at the door.
Coffee cup on the table, cold and quite,
Distressing thoughts, daydreams and I,
A lonely book, in my cold lap and I.
poem by Amjad Islam Amjad
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San Pedro de Alcantara
[An orange on the table
Your dress on the rug
And you in my bed
Sweet gift of the present
Freshness of the night
Warmth of my life
- 'Alicante', Jacques Prevert]
Clothes strewn on the table
Juice stains the floor board
He rises above you
You journey beneath him
I watch from the window
Cold in the night
Lemon tea on the dresser
Seed of pomegranite
Adorning your belly
As he falls above you
You draw down his kisses
Warm essence of life
Stranded at the station
In the cold of the morning
My bed for your sleeping
The rug for your dress
In the warmth of awakening
Dawn your caress
Lemons on the table
You make up by the window
I lie in my bed
Unable to watch you
The night steals the freshness
The gift that you left
Now I lie beside you
Emptiness on the table
Your hem in my fingers
The gift a deliverance
Your presence a memory
Warmth of the past.
poem by Frank Bana
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Delicate Cluster
DELICATE cluster! flag of teeming life!
Covering all my lands! all my sea-shores lining!
Flag of death! (how I watch'd you through the smoke of battle
pressing!
How I heard you flap and rustle, cloth defiant!)
Flag cerulean! sunny flag! with the orbs of night dappled!
Ah my silvery beauty! ah my woolly white and crimson!
Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!
My sacred one, my mother.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Pity Sex
How can a woman be...
True to a man...
Even if he is doing all...
He can...
A woman can't make a promise...
Of any worth...
If she is still seeking her inner woman...
Which is the brains of her office...
Her over-seerer...
her heart of gold...
With esteem a'la'mode...
Pretty... yet rough...
Easy...yet tough...
Nice but not to nice...
Unless...she is trying...
To crack the ice...
Bringing to the table...
Any table...her able...
Be It mother...wife...
daughter...
Your friend girl...
Not toy world...
Lay it out front...
No need for a stunt...
Nor a hunt...
She rules...until her heart choose...
Then her inner thinking cap...
Comes into view...
Letting her know just whats right...
To do...
Mmm..sack...
Mmmm...that would be wracked...
He respects I grant him that...
As long as (we) share the HAT...
Can many men deal with that? ? ? /
Mmmm...so here I sit...
I do not complain concerning it...
Whisperkwane
[email protected]
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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A View In Town Square
four blue chairs surround
a center table
at the center table
lies the red cloth
there are no diners
this time of the day
on the blue frames of
the glass window
where the white curtains
hang & flow like silky water
the lush of the red
bougainvillea is a wreath
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. It was not an expensive piece of wood. Far from it. Just a common block of firewood, one of those thick, solid logs that are put on the fire in winter to make cold rooms cozy and warm.
quote by Carlo Collodi
Submitted by Simona Enache
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