To Verbalize In A Void
To Verbalize in a Void
Tired of talking to god who never answers and watching silence
drip like tears from the ceiling beams, I walked down to the new
café, the one at the fruit market, for a cup of coffee.
A profound philosophical conversation ensued. The young girl,
who served me asked if I wanted cream in my brew; after a brief
pause, I said no. The slight pause was caused by a sudden need
to tell her I have diabetes and full fat cream is bad for me, but
since this information had little to do with her question I let it pass.
That was the extent of my tête-à-tête for the day, but it was
fulfilling though, a question had been raised and a comprehensive
responds had been given.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
Tete a tete
The choice i made was good,
My wounds were healed,
The secrets i sealed,
It was better though mild,
Understand me please
Come for tete a tete
Dont put me in a corner my love
Im wrong i accept my love,
Whose tear should fall,
Lets have a talk my love,
Tete a tete be it
You are evrything i need,
Im everything you both need,
Its a dilemma,
I need a tete a tete
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Pause 6
pause
silence
more silence
it is my belief that in times of our silence
when we pause a little bit
from so much talk
and (nonsense)
we simply let God pass
and we pause some more sensing this air of holiness this divinity
that is simply
not found in ourselves
malice sometimes gets shamed
and we are silenced
but i know with our caliber, it will not be for long
we talk again
unceasingly as though the words in this world will be out
and there is no more word
left for tomorrow
(oh, what a lot of nonsense!)
let us pause again, i am a little bit tired
for once let us be silent and be happy within the confines
of our soul
leave me alone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Change
The other day I walked accross the street
i couldnt believe what I appeared to see...
as I looked at a poor boy who came to me
I asked him his name and he didnt know
he just asked me for change.
I asked where is your mum?
he just asked me for change
I asked where is your dad?
he just asked me for change
I asked will someone come?
he just asked me for change
I asked why are you sad?
with no response to my question there was a pause...
but then once again he asked me for change
see, as i watched him dissapear with his pain
I realised that he actualy asked me...
for a change.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Chocolate Or Flowers?
Ice cream, chocolate, or flowers?
I asked the girl of my dreams.
She looked at me in a moment of glee,
And asked why not all three?
Now if you would believe that sentence,
Then you don’t know women much.
For flowers and ice cream are very nice,
Without chocolate you’ll never get touched.
There is a fruit called passion fruit.
But I will swear to this.
If you don’t bring them chocolate often,
Then you will never be kissed.
So put away those daffodils,
And throw away that rose.
Arriving without Swiss Chocolate,
It’s out her door you’ll go!
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Cafe Prague.
Cream coloured coffee
And hot buttered toast
August sunshine
A packet of cigarettes
Talks on love and life
Friends and strangers all together
Days of summer
Seated on outside chairs
Tears and laughter
Mixed in the air
Of the perfect day just us and them
Cafe pavements
The world at view
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Used coffee cups
And ashtrays too
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Trendy young girls
And the wannabe author
Auster, Adams and Mr. Salinger
Days of dreaming
The perfect film
In view for all to see
Hello, hello
So good to see you
Was it twelve?
Or maybe it was two
I’ll sit and wait
And think of you
Cafe pavements
For me and you
Pairs, Rome and cafe Prague
Dirty spoons and knives
And glasses too
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Teacups and Earl grey
And ice cream sundaes
Black and white life
In full technicolour
Light my cigarette
And I’ll listen all day
Sunshine days
Storm clouds - away
The table over there
Just a smiling man
For today - all alone
Waiting his time
Cafe pavements
The world today
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Beautiful Ladies
And business gents
Paris, Rome and Cafe Prague
Student cameras
And picture painting
Hollywood lifestyle
In the common street
Brando, Dean and Al Pacino
Next to you and me
See you later
Maybe tomorrow
Give me a ring
And we’ll make a date
I’ll sit and think
And wait for you
Cafe pavements
For meetings and lunch
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Perfect tables
And used up chairs
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
poem by Patrick Sant
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Report from The Black Box
For Flaco
A cooler
head of lettuce prevailed, but when the actor
asked his question and paused
for us to watch him pause and think
inside the pause, I almost answered
as if we were in a bar, just the two of us
and a balcony and spotlight. The two of us
and programs and makeup and a sofa
from the director’s living room and the black/
womb/agora/séance of theater inviting us to feel
together alone. I recall I don’t recall
the question but its scope on his face
was immense, as if he were the Milky Way
asking am I pretty, am I here for sure for real
for long and my breath was the quiet yessing
of tall grass against the shoulders of a cat
stalking the night. I actually opened my mouth
before I actually thought you will be stoned
and not in the good way, not with stones
of tongues, stones of fingers against my forehead
but the play was messy and tangible and full
of the etceteras I am full of and why
wouldn’t I want to talk with that is a question
the poem is asking you to answer wherever
you are without me is the problem
theater solves, since we sit together
in the dark with the dark because the dark
deserves a face a soliloquy a lover a bow
at the end. When I always wonder if the players
regret that the lights come up and they see us
as we are seeing them as they were,
what a weird mirror that is, showing one side
sudden appreciation and the resumption
of loose ends, the other the vast
and devotional possibilities of being kidnapped
by a dream and which side is which side
are you on?
I Made Her Laugh................[Short; Humor; Community]
As I walked this afternoon downtown (I didn't drive but took my feet) ,
I passed a popular shop where you can obtain a yummy ice cream treat.
And once you've got it......., (in a chair in front of the shop) , you may take a seat.
In a short distance I came abreast of a couple eating from cones their sweet,
and I said "Excuse me, don't you know the law against ice cream eating on the street? "
[a brief pause and then……..]
The man chuckled; the woman followed with a laugh.
MY day was now complete.
(Nov.2012)
poem by Bri Edwards
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Brazilian Cafe
Grey Hospital and a Brazilian Café.
The hotel where I stayed served lousy coffee, insipid and milky.
I knew there was a Brazilian café nearby, on my way there walked
past the closed down city hospital. Grey walls dripping of uncured
diseases, graffiti and dead windows. Convert it into an office block,
but who wants to work there, a place haunted by cynical doctors and
indifferent nurses who stalk the halls at night waiting for their shift
to end so they can get out from this place of horror, and patients
they have lost interest in and can do nothing for. Tear it down and
throw the debris down a gully. At the Brazilian café the coffee was
strong and healthy; the staff, young, moved as dancers to the music
in the background. There is much of Africa in the Brazilian soul,
passionate, courageous; yet, sometimes, viciously moody.
The girl who served me coffee, smiled with lips and eyes, her skin
dark, glowing… fit. And the sad hospital faded into oblivion.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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you and I, and the cat
we shared a cup of coffee- you and I,
as the cat looked on.
you had two lumps of sugar, a shot of cream.
mine was black.
I thought to offer cream to the cat; he’d like that.
and then you smiled.
you peered across the rim of your upraised cup, taking a sip,
scrunching your face and smiling through the steam as it
rose from your milky, sweet coffee,
and I forgot about the cat.
he purred.
quickly, I put him outside,
knowing his familiar purr, a purr that soon
would escalate into a full-blown howl
that demanded my attention and some cream.
I wanted only to savor the contented sweetness of your face,
perfectly formed for my delight, but
you felt sorry for the cat.
I had been abrupt, insensitive.
“Why can’t the cat be allowed to purr, even to howl
“if he wants? ' you said.
“Why must the cat be refused a simple request for attention
“and a sip of milk? ”
alright then, I’ll let the cat back inside,
and give him some milk.
are you happy now?
no answer.
the coffee has grown tepid,
along with your smile.
I loathe that cat.
Stories
She sits in the corner
Where its reasonably quiet
Drinking coffee with cream
Thinking stories of young love
She calls to the waiter
wont you lend me some time?
You can sit by my side
And Ill let you be friends with mine.
The cafe is old
But the candlelights new
She orders beaujolais wine
And says Ive thought of you too
She whispers isnt it odd
You remind me of songs
That Id rather forget
Like feelings I longed for
You haunt me inside
Sometimes I recall
Question mistakes
Who grew to nothing at all
I hear voices that cry
And one of thems mine
All the things I could say
Are the reasons I cant
She says Ive seen you before
In thoughts I call son
Like an old film with sound
When the link comes undone
The waiter is me
And the woman is you
And we are the story
Just like others I knew
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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T.
t
IS the tea party
i have with me
i slice my cake
and eat it
without anybody
seeing me
t
is my own tete-a-tete
with my own
temple
my own soul
a
T
Truth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Oh So Simple Question
I have a question
I have a simple thought
I am the border obsession
I am the clever, the taught
You have my aggression
You have a complication
You are an angry expression
You are the unheard conversation
We have a serious problem
Something simple yet trying
You understand, you look solemn
You know exactly what question I’m implying
Now concentrate, ask it now
Your eyes beg not to be told
Tell it now, but tell it how?
How to tell this question I hold
Wait! Look at your eyes
Now desperate to know
The question I hide
The question I knew not long ago
NO! I no longer remember
The simple question I wanted to ask
That cold day, in that snowy December
Oh how I hate this shy mask
Maybe I will once again
Think of a simple question
Whilst I walk down memory lane
Maybe, one day, you will hear my confession
poem by Rebecca Pepper
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Recipe For Peace: Reality Check
The Question:
Would you fight for
your country?
If there was a war?
The Answer:
No I wouldn’t fight.
The Retort:
What sort of an attitude is that?
What would happen if everyone
had an attitude like that?
The Reply:
There would be no wars.
Emotional Overload: Body Language:
Controlled Breathing Pause Extending Indefinitely.
Mounting Anger of Suppressed Rage.
Reason verses Conflicted Emotions! Pause extending.
The Outburst: An admission:
But not everyone thinks like that!
Reasoned Response:
Yes. But if they did there would be no wars.
The Solution:
Silence. A simple recipe.
For true world peace.
There would be no wars.
See also two other variants of this theme, ‘Recipe For Peace’ and ‘Proposed – A Question! ’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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His Answer To My Question Was A Question
His answer to my question
Was a question
My answer to his reply
Was returned
With another question
The game of
Answering and asking
Questions
Did not end
Till I questioned
The very motive
Of our conversation
We came to the conclusion
How to pass time?
Was the biggest question
Asking questions
And creating confusion
Was the answer
So we passed our time
Asking and answering questions
The question now is
Whether we did right or wrong?
The answer is
Why ask a useless question?
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Custard Creams
There's always time for a custard cream,
Taken at any point of the day;
With milk or tea,
There's always time for a custard cream,
Advice taken, or given,
Take a moment,
To share the delights
With coffee, or juice.
There's always time for a custard cream;
Share it,
Break it,
Dunk it!
There's always one more time
For that
Last custard cream.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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By pass
Require by pass
Replacement meet
Giridhar.
Require love
Consult Gopal
AT lifeline.
Require peace harmony
Read Gajanan
At poems hunter.
Remember this world
Ours and we all
Supra tete-a-tete
And that terminate.
Each is others friend
And in friendship
Nothing begin
Nothing end.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Paintings
colours, they bring back
scenes and scents
your painting, it brings
brings me back all the years
still i can sit in that chair of
that long lost cafe and
have the privilege of a
tete a tete with friends,
imagined and real
of things we all cherish
the love of art and all the things
that it brings - scenes,
scents, and the time
we thought is lost
forever in time
Second Version
--
colours, they bring back
scenes and scents
your painting, it brings
brings me back all the years
still i can sit in that chair of
that long lost cafe and
have the privilege of a
tete a tete with friends,
imagined and real
of things we all cherish
the love of art and all the things
that it brings - scenes,
scents and geniuses
overheated talents
that drove them lunatics,
madmen manoevring
with the coldness
of the arctics
volcanoes that explode
splotches, dashes
splashes, onto the
canvas of their dreams
colours, they bring back
scenes and scents
paintings, they bring back
all the years nature plods on
against adversities to help
the artist pour out its best onto canvas
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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To Amuse At The Expense Of Wasted Time
Would these be betting odds,
That an asking of someone...
Who has done something in their life,
For more than 'sixty years'.
And approached to be questioned,
What they have been doing...
Since they were last seen ten years ago?
And that question has been asked,
By that same person rerpeatedly.
And the response is known.
What would be the likely odds,
That the person asked the question...
Would 'not' be doing,
What has become an obvious love...
For what that person does.
Should the one asking that same question,
Take a gamble and ask another question...
That would initiate a conversation,
Expressing a real interest?
And not just say the same thing to re-tread.
I maybe wrong about this,
But...
Leaving the person feeling a sense of being appreciated,
Would probably reveal a human being existing.
Instead of a novelty to amuse at the expense of wasted time.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cream
This is it
Its time for u to go to the wire
U will hit
Cuz u got the burnin desire
Its your time (time)
U got the horn so why dont u blow it
U are fine (fine)
Ure filthy cute and baby u know it
Cream
Get on top
Cream
U will cop
Cream
Dont u stop
Cream
Sh-boogie bop
Ure so good
Baby there aint nobody better (aint nobody better)
So u should
Never, ever go by the letter (never ever)
Ure so cool (cool)
Everything u do is success
Make the rules (rules)
Then break them all cuz u are the best
Yes u are
Cream
Get on top
Cream
U will cop
Cream
Dont u stop
Cream
Sh-boogie bop
Look up in the air, its your guitar
Do your dance
Why should u wait any longer?
Take a chance
It could only make u stronger
Its your time (its your time)
U got the horn so why dont u blow it (go on and blow it)
Ure so fine (ure so fine)
Ure filthy cute and baby u know it (u know it)
Come on
Cream
Get on top
Cream
U will cop
Cream
Dont u ever stop
Cream
Sh-boogie bop
Cream
Cream
Cream
Sh-boogie bop
Cream
Cream
Right there
Cream
Dont u stop
Cream
Sh-boogie bop
Boogie
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reverse
Cherry, whipped cream
Chocolate sauce, ice cream
I can't enjoy it, I wish I could
But my body rejects the food
Fingers on my lips
Slim down my hips
I eat until I'm full
Show everyone I'm normal
Head bent over the bowl
No longer full
Back up in reverse
Wanting more, makes it worse
Ice cream, chocolate sauce
Whipped cream, cherry, food loss
poem by Brynn Fier
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