En.Citatepedia^®.ro

i was just behind you at Mc Donald's

don't get mad, i was really there
but you did not notice since you were surrounded with handsome men.
Medical reps i supposed so
With vested interests.
You had the pepperoni pizza and cocacola
And you added caesar's salad
There was laughter on that table
Obviously, you were enjoying it.

I was alone at Table 10.
Reading a newspaper.
I took time looking at the road
Over the glass window.

When you left with them
I counted, all five, I merely smiled.

There is such thing as
delicadeza, and I still have it with me.

When i texted you
You said you were waiting at Maria's Cafe.

It was enough. You lied
and what will you expect from me?

Tell me.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Smile

At a cafe in Liverpool I sat eating bacon butty
washed down with milky tea, wife had left me
and I was feeling glum. A woman at a far table
looked at me and smiled. An overcast day, felt
as the sun had come out. I didn’t know what to
say or do so I looked out of the window rain.
Her boyfriend came, they left, but she sent me
another smiling glance
Knew I would be OK.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Old Man

At the noisy end of the cafe, head bent
over the table, an old man sits alone,
a newspaper in front of him.

And in the miserable banality of old age
he thinks how little he enjoyed the years
when he had strength, eloquence, and looks.

He knows he's aged a lot: he sees it, feels it.
Yet it seems he was young just yesterday.
So brief an interval, so brief.

And he thinks of Prudence, how it fooled him,
how he always believed - what madness -
that cheat who said: "Tomorrow. You have plenty of time."

He remembers impulses bridled, the joy
he sacrificed. Every chance he lost
now mocks his senseless caution.

But so much thinking, so much remembering
makes the old man dizzy. He falls asleep,
his head resting on the cafe table.

poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Dubrovnik 1972.

Dubrovnik seemed
a second home,
and you, in a street

cafe, sat drinking coffee,
with that book on
Schopenhauer open

on the table, a cigarette
smoking in an ashtray
unattended, thinking

of the girl in the hotel
restaurant the night
before, the waitress

who smiled at you as
she served and went
by your table, and your

brother said, I don't
fancy yours much,
indicating with a nod

of head, another
waitress over by a
nearby table, plump

and spotted, wearing
a scowl instead of a
smile, and all the while,

he eyeing, as young
men do the beauty
that had caught your

eye going by, but all is
fair in love, so men
have said, so picking

up the book on
Schopenhauer, and
further reading,

holding the cigarette
between the fingers
of the hand not

turning pages, you
inhaled with deep
concentration the

smoke and words
spread across the
page, written by a

philosopher of a
foreign tongue
and different age.

poem by Terry Collett
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Talk Over Tea.

Janice's gran
had left the room

to fetch another
pot of tea

and Janice said
Are you coming on

the day trip to the seaside?
I'm not sure

you replied
Oh please do

Janice said
Then we can be together

and I won't have to spend time
with those giggly girls

from the gospel group
you looked at her fair hair

and the way her eyes
were on you

and how precise
her lips were

when she spoke
I'm not sure my parents

can afford it
you said

Oh it's free for kids
whose parents are poor

she said
And after all

it's part of the point
of the whole thing

to show Christian values
and so on

and she smiled
and put her hand

on yours
under the table

as her gran came in
with the teapot

What are you two
talking about?

Gran asked
putting the teapot

down on the table
Janice's hand

squeezed yours
under the table

Oh just about the day trip
to the seaside

Janice said
Are you going too?

her gran asked you
you hesitated

and then said
Yes I think so

and Janice looked at you
her blue eyes bright

and she said
Isn't that good Gran?

Yes indeed
her gran said

and poured tea
into your cup

and added milk
and sugar

and Janice's hand
left yours

and the absence
of the warmth

of her hand
felt like

a dying world
in a vast galaxy

or drowning
in a deep blue sea.

poem by Terry Collett
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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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Rock Band

Enjoying the pepperoni pizza slices from the pizza box
Guzzling one orange soda after another
We're wired for tonight
So let's rock

Grab a guitar
Grab a bass
Pick up the mic
Set up the drums
Put the game in the PS2
And let's rock

Song after song we play over and over, again and again
Hour after hour passes by
Yet, we have a lot of fun tonight
Even if we're out of our minds tonight

Feeling the way we do
We're a band
And we're rocking our world
Anyway we want to

poem by Justin Gildow
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Downtown Pizza

On Lake Ave. next to the Pelican,
you can have great dishes of Italian.
From pizza’s, subs to Calzones,
they deliver, they bring it to your home.
I have a photo of Razel and Mel,
posing on the counter with a pizza smell.
I have a slice of pizza and a mountain dew,
I watch t.v. and kick off my shoes.
They have signature white pizza with Stromboli meat,
stuffed with lots of cheese, pepperoni, it’s a treat.
Your dog can drink agua outside in a bowl,
while you wait for your order to go.
This is a laid back casual pizza joint,
they make great pizza and Italian dishes,
they won’t disappoint.

Written By Suzae Chevalier on October 13,2011
www.puppetpoems.com

poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Downtown Pizza

On Lake Ave. next to the Pelican,
you can have great dishes of Italian.
From pizza's, subs to Calzones,
they deliver, they bring it to your home.
I have a photo of Razel and Mel,
posing on the counter with a pizza smell.
I have a slice of pizza and a mountain dew,
I watch t.v. and kick off my shoes.
They have signature white pizza with Stromboli meat,
stuffed with lots of cheese, pepperoni, it's a treat.
Your dog can drink agua outside in a bowl,
while you wait for your order to go.
This is a laid back casual pizza joint,
they make great pizza and Italian dishes,
they won't disappoint.

Written By Suzae Chevalier on October 13,2011
www.puppetpoems.com

poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Young Men, 23 to 24 years old

He'd been sitting in the cafe since ten-thirty
expecting him to turn up any minute.
Midnight had gone, and he was still waiting for him.
It was now after one-thirty, and the cafe was almost deserted.
He'd grown tired of reading newspapers
mechanically. Of his three lonely shillings
only one was left: waiting that long,
he'd spent the others on coffees and brandy.
And he'd smoked all his cigarettes.
So much waiting had worn him out.
Because alone like that for so many hours,
he'd also begun to have disturbing thoughts
about the immoral life he was living.
But when he saw his friend come in
weariness, boredom, thought all disappeared at once.
His friend brought unexpected news.
He'd won sixty pounds playing cards.
Their good looks, their exquisite youthfulness,
the sensitive love they shared
were refreshed, livened, invigorated
by the sixty pounds from the card table.
Now all joy and vitality, feeling and charm,
they went -not to the homes of their respectable families
(where they were no longer wanted anyway)-
they went to a familiar and very special
house of debauchery, and they asked for a bedroom
and expensive drinks, and they drank again.
And when the expensive drinks were finished
and it was close to four in the morning,
happy, they gave themselves to love.

poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Primary And Secondary

bread and butter thing
water and white rice on the table
eggs and vegetables
spread on the covered table
these are the primaries of life

poetry is at nighttime
reading aloud
composing some more
analyzing other poets' works
telling to yourself
this smacks the senses
this strikes the core of my being
this will not make me sleep again
invigorating
worth the lost salt of myself
not looking back
moving on
sailing on the boat in the middle
of such storm
seeking peace
sleeping alone and dreaming

these are the secondaries of existence

tomorrow can be
incompetent
today is the most evident
the past is duly taken
notice

the void comes
and then to its wings i take my daily ride.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Going Blind

She sat just like the others at the table.
But on second glance, she seemed to hold her cup
a little differently as she picked it up.
She smiled once. It was almost painful.

And when they finished and it was time to stand
and slowly, as chance selected them, they left
and moved through many rooms (they talked and laughed),
I saw her. She was moving far behind

the others, absorbed, like someone who will soon
have to sing before a large assembly;
upon her eyes, which were radiant with joy,
light played as on the surface of a pool.

She followed slowly, taking a long time,
as though there were some obstacle in the way;
and yet: as though, once it was overcome,
she would be beyond all walking, and would fly.

poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Memories In Yellow

In August, she hung yellow curtains in the window
She danced and sang along to the radio
She flung paint across a canvas and
Laughed when the walls were splattered
And when she awoke in his arms
They were bathed in the yellow light from the window.

In August, she put yellow flowers on the table
She smiled at the fingered shadows they cast on the floor
She sketched them on every page of a notebook and
Drew them in the margins of her newspaper
And when she looked into the mirror
She saw yellow flowers reflected in the glass.

In August, a yellow cat lived in the alleyway
She scratched its ears until it purred
She took photographs of the sunlight on its fur and
Thought about beginnings and endings
And, in the dark of the night, lost in dreams,
She journeyed with the yellow cat to desert sands.

December comes
Curtains fall,
lovers leave.
Flowers fade,
mirrors crack.
Cats wander,
and deserts
become oceans.

poem by Frumious Bandersnatch
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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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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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(Now You See Me) Now You Don't

Better take a good look before I disappear
Because I'm just about to be your used-to-be
You might catch a glimpse of my taillights in the dust
And if you notice something missin', well it's me
'Cause I tried and you lied
I cried and you stood by
Well, here's a little magic thing I do
Now you see me, now you don't
First you do but then you won't
Watch me vanish right before your eyes
You might think you see me there
In a cafe on a street somewhere
Yeah, that might be me but I'll be gone
Now you see me, now you don't
If you ever get the feelin' that it feels like deja vu
Because some stranger feels like someone that you know
Might be the color of her lipstick or the smell of her perfume
That sends a shiver all the way down to your toes
Don't blink 'cause it ain't yeah what you think
It's just your heart playing tricks on you
Now you see me, now you don't
First you do but then you won't
Watch me vanish right before your eyes
You might think you see me there
In a cafe on a street somewhere
Yeah, that might be me but I'll be gone
Now you see me, now you don't
You might think you see me there
In a cafe on a street somewhere
Yeah, that might be me, but I'll be gone
Now you see me, now you don't
Now you see me, now you don't
Now you see me, now you don't
Now you see me

song performed by by Lee Ann Womack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Dust

the old man puttered around his bushes...
taking his time, ... time was all he had left.
since his wife had died, it seemed like everything
was suspended. just him and the dog now, and
the dog was old and blind.
Maria watched him. everyday the same thing, in
his yard, or walking his dog. she thought to herself,
'that's just sadness walking...'
Maria was 28, never married, kinda plain, but clean.
her boy Tyler was seven, a boy's boy, and in school.
she put the pie in the oven, and walked over to the
coffeepot. she paused for a moment, then poured
two cups, and walked out the door.
'hey, George, want a cup of coffee? '
'thank you, dont mind if i do.'
they exchanged small talk...after a bit the old man said,
'getting a little tired, gonna have to sit down. you wanna
come in? '
'yea, just for a bit.'
they went in the back door, and sat down at the kitchen
table. she noticed things were a little dusty, but otherwise
ok. there was a stillness that permeated the house.
there were pictures on the wall, mostly family pictures,
most in black and white.
'how're your kids? '
' ok i guess, dont hear from them much. every now and then
they'll call and tell me how the grandkids are doing...'
she opened the Bible on the table. 'guess you read this a lot/'
'used to... now i dont see so well to read anymore.'
she looked down to where she had opened the Bible. a passage
was marked. 'to everything there is a season...' she closed the
book
'guess you get awful lonely? '
'not so bad during the day, pretty bad at night...'
'i just put a strawberry pie in the oven... maybe tonite after i put
Tyler to bed, i'll bring you a piece.'
'thank you, i'd appreciate that! '
she walked back across the road, wondering what he ate, or if...

poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Lonely Child

Carlo Betocci's child
sits on a table and looks at the world
outside through a glass window

the view is too beautiful not to be touched
the high distant mountains
garnished by bluish clouds
and fingers of the sun
caressing the grassy plains

too far and yet too beautiful
the child couldn't help but caress the
glass window with his palms

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Now You Don't

(Jess Brown/David Lee/Tony Lane)
Better take a good look before I disappear
Because I'm just about to be your used-to-be
You might catch a glimpse of my taillights in the dust
And if you notice something missin', well it's me
'Cause I tried and you lied
I cried and you stood by
Well, here's a little magic thing I do
Now you see me, now you don't
First you do but then you won't
Watch me vanish right before your eyes
You might think you see me there
In a cafe on a street somewhere
Yeah, that might be me but I'll be gone
Now you see me, now you don't
If you ever get the feelin' that it feels like deja vu
Because some stranger feels like someone that you know
Might be the color of her lipstick or the smell of her perfume
That sends a shiver all the way down to your toes
Don't blink 'cause it ain't yeah what you think
It's just your heart playing tricks on you
Now you see me, now you don't
First you do but then you won't
Watch me vanish right before your eyes
You might think you see me there
In a cafe on a street somewhere
Yeah, that might be me but I'll be gone
Now you see me, now you don't
You might think you see me there
In a cafe on a street somewhere
Yeah, that might be me, but I'll be gone
Now you see me, now you don't
Now you see me, now you don't
Now you see me, now you don't
Now you see me

song performed by by Lee Ann Womack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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