A Boast To Kill
I can kill
A fly
On the dining table
With all of you
Watching
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I can kill
A fly
On the dining table
With all of you
Watching
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Watching Me Watching You
I sit by the cutting on the beaconsfield line.
Hes watching me watching the trains go by.
And they move so fast --- boy, they really fly.
Hes still watching me watching you watching the
Trains go by.
And the way he stares --- feel like locking my door
And pulling my phone from the wall.
His eyes, like lights from a laser, burn
Making my hair stand --- making the goose-bumps crawl.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me
Im watching you watching him watching me
Watching stares.
At the cocktail party with a bucks fizz in my hand
I feel him watching me watching the girls go by.
And they move so smooth without even trying.
Hes still watching me watching you watching the
Trains go by.
And the crowd thins and he moves up close but he doesnt speak.
I have to look the other way.
But curiosity gets the better part of me and I peek:
Got two drinks in his hand --- see his lips move ---
What the hells he trying to say.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Im watching you watching him watching me
Watching stares.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching
The trains go by.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching him watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching him watching me watching him watching.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The dining room in my old house was truly magnificent, but by far the worst room for conversation. I'd get up from the table, a very long table, and somebody would always say, Paul, I never got to talk to you.
quote by Paul Lynde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At the dining table you should eat without constraint.
The beast [2]
You smashed the small granite table down
like a mighty war hammer
cleaving the coffee table in two
which I had made for you,
the cellular phone that I had bought
went flying, tossed like a discuss
with might and mean
against the wall
where it shattered to pieces
and being demented arose
from a superfluous thing,
from another motorist
driving into the back of my car
and barely hitting it
and the beast was upon me
the moment that I came
through the front door
with looks it tried to kill,
looks that could chill to the bone
the labyrinth ran through the house
with your children
watching as spectators.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I was very happy sitting alone at a dining room table, writing a script.
quote by Conrad Hall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I developed the habit of writing novels behind a closed door, or at my uncle's, on the dining table.
quote by Patrick White
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kill Your Sons
All your two-bit psychiatrists
Are giving you electroshock
They said, theyd let you live at home with mom and dad
Instead of mental hospitals
But every time you tried to read a book
You couldnt get to page 17
cause you forgot where you were
So you couldnt even read
Dont you know theyre gonna kill your sons
Dont you know gonna kill, kill your sons
Theyre gonna kill, kill your sons
Until they run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run away
Mom informed me on the phone
She didnt know what to do about dad
Took an axe and broke the table
Arent you glad youre married
And sister, she got married on the island
And her husband takes the train
Hes big and hes fat
And he doesnt even have a brain
Theyre gonna kill your sons
Dont you know theyre gonna kill, kill your sons
Dont you know theyre gonna kill, kill your sons
Until they run away
Creedmore treated me very good
But paine whitney was even better
And when I flipped out on phc
I was so sad, I didnt even get a letter
All of the drugs, that we took
It really was lots of fun
But when they shoot you up with thorizene on crystal smoke
You choke like a son of a gun
Dont you know theyre gonna kill your sons
Dont you know theyre gonna kill, kill your sons
Dont you know theyre gonna kill, kill your sons
Until they run, run, run, run, run, run, run away
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet As Mere Spectator
and so there was this child
left by the mother who was washing
her body in another
room
the child crawls and walks its
way finally
to the dining table
and pulls the table cloth
where a cup of hot coffee
is put
hot coffee is poured on its face
and the baby screams
and screams and screams
at the top of his voice
i hear it but what can i do
i am the poet
and you give me this job of
a mere spectator
next time, tell me, i am more than that
i can be superman
to that child
only if you ask.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Family Today
Tele vison...
Tele phone...
Cell phone...
Fridge...
Radio...
Computer ...
Internet...
car...
Scouter...
Bycycle...
Keboad...
Washing mechine...
Dining table...
Sitting table...
Bed...
Dog...
Cat...
Toy s...
Colour fishes...
Books....
Hot drinks...
Dubule bed rooms
One atach bath room
Home...
.........with
......... .with
...........with
My father and mother
My only one wife...
My only two children...
It is for every human family today
Don't loug...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Red, Red, Red
I don't understand about complimentary colors
And what they say
Side by side they both get bright
Together they both get gray
But he's been pretty much yellow
And I've been crying blue
But all I can see is
Red, red, red, red, red now
What am I to do
I don't understand about
Diamonds and why men buy them
What's so impressive about a diamond
Except the mining
And it's dangerous work
Trying to get to you too
And I think if I didn't have to
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill myself doing it
Maybe I would glisten so much for you
I've been watching all the time
And I still can't find the track
And I wanna know is it okay
Is it just fine
Was it my fault
Is it my lack
I don't understand about
The weather outside
The harbinger to the words
Somebody lied
There's solace a bit for submitting
To the fitfully cryptically true
What's happened has happened
What's coming is already on its way
With a role for me to play
I don't understand
I'll never understand
But I'm trying to understand
There's nothing else I can do
song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Auntie and Hand Washing
You made your way from the john
to the dining table
and Auntie said
have you washed your hands?
yes
you said
are you sure?
Auntie asked
looking at you
with her fixed stare
and the black mutt
under the table
gazed at you too
I washed them this morning
you said
let me see your hands
Auntie said
and so you held out your hands
and she turned them over and up
and held them looking at them
you're meant to wash them
after going to the toilet each time
she said
not just
when you get up
in the morning
she released your hands
and you looked at them
as if they were suddenly there
before you for the first time
so you had best wash them
Auntie said
before I dish up your dinner
and so you went back
to the wash room
and turned on the tap
and taking soap
between your hands
you washed and rinsed
and dried them
on the white towel
on the rail and went back
to the dining room
and showed your aunt
that's better
she said
now go sit down
and wait for your dinner
and the black mutt
put its chin on your lap
waiting in anticipation
for titbits from your plate
and Auntie called out
from the kitchen
remember to say your prayer
before meals
and you said ok
and muttered
thank you for what I'm about to eat
may there be few vegetables
and lots of meat
and the mutt's dribble
wet your thigh
its jaw lingering there
giving you
its dark eyed stare.
poem by Terry Collett
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What Do I Really Need?
upon a dining table
i too, ask myself,
what do i really need?
one fried dried fish
a cup of steamed brown rice
a pinch of salt
five drops of coconut vinegar
a glass of water
and then the much needed
rest for the night
& with you
my bare hands
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If Looks Could Kill
Caught you in the act - can't put up with that
messing where you shouldn't be
I wanna hear you say you're sorry
cause nobody takes advantage of me
You're missing the mark - shooting in the dark
I'm pulling the wool from my eyes
baby don't you push me further
it's gonna hurt you if it happens here
If looks could kill
you'd be lying on the floor
you'd be begging me please please
baby don't hurt me no more
If looks could kill
you'd be reeling from the pain
and you'd never lie again
If looks could kill
You're living on the edge - hanging by a thread
I'm watching every move you make
you don't want to see my anger
so don't you make another mistake
Love is on the line - I ain't about to be kind
that's a promise and a threat
if I was you I'd really cool it
or risk a night you'll never forget
If looks could kill
you'd be living on the floor
you'd be begging me please please
darlin don't hurt me no more
If looks could kill
you'd be reeling from the pain
and you'd never lie again
If looks could kill
I was a fool to believe in you
a sucker for every line
I'm a little less blind
than I was before
I can see right through your design
You'd be begging me please please
darlin don't hurt me no more
If looks could kill
you'd be reeling from the pain
and you'd never lie again
If looks could kill
You'd be begging me please please
darlin don't hurt me no more
If looks could kill
you'd be reeling from the pain
ynd you'd never lie again
If looks could kill
If looks could kill
song performed by by Heart from Heart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snow And The Love Of Home
inside that cheap apartment
you sit on the chair facing a dining table
a bowl of oatmeal
a cup of coffee
three asparagus sticks
sea noodle cup ready for lunch
crackers and biscuits for dinner
Mozart is played as you look beyond
the glass doors and windows facing
a clean sheet of snow covering the path
leading to the gate and the road
on the other side of the house
Facebook is open
and you just take a peek on those that dropp by
and say hello
you write a line saying,
'dear friend i am editing some pictures...'
taken last night at the party and you will be emailing
some of the happy pictures back home
those with the smiles of the big snowman
it is another lonely night
you want to kill yourself but you just
can't because some people who love you
wait for you back home
as you promised
'whew! The pictures are simply out of focus! '
your hands keep
busy
always on some other things
to keep them out from
that barren desert
'Cool! ' you make a comment on the Friendster picture
of a friend hugging a new boyfriend in Hongkong.
It is so cold. It is so lonely.
But it does not kill you somehow.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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But there's always a Mass. It's not a formal Mass at all. We're sitting around her dining room table with wine and Eucharist and holding hands. It's very informal and small, but to me that's a wonderful way to have Mass.
quote by Linda Vester
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Black Bruises I
I can stare into the blackness,
the void of many abysses
behind every dark curtains
I can endure calm and silence
watching pole dancers grind,
watching stars scintillate,
watching still shadows on the walls,
watching dislimned reflections,
watching trees pass me by,
watching ethers wash the screen,
watching my lonely feet,
watching little things sway;
but am I the only one watching
these black bruised visions?
poem by Norman Santos
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Watching For Pa
Three little forms in the twilight gray,
Searching the shadows across the way;
Two pair of black eyes, and one of blue --
Brimful of love, and of mischief too;
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
May, with her placid and thoughtful brow,
Beaming with kindness and love just now;
Willie the youngest, in anguish did lay,
Stealing sly kisses from sister May,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Nellie, with ringlets of sunny hue,
Cosily nested between the two;
Pressing her cheeks to the window pane,
Wishing the absent one home again.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Now there are shouts from the window seat;
There is a patter of childish feet;
Gaily they rush through the lighted hall --
"Coming at last" is the joyful call.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
poem by Henry Clay Work
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