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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Related quotes
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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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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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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The King Of The Chairs
no matter how qualified
and competent is the king of the chairs
to the mind of the table
the king of the chairs
will always remain as only one
of its serving knights.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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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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Be yourself? Or act? Hide?
People are people,
Trees are trees,
Chairs are chairs,
Leaves are leaves,
Boxes are boxes,
Glasses are glasses,
Shops are shops,
Passers by are just passers,
People are the people they were born to be,
Whether that makes them “normal” or not,
Some people are totally care free,
Some people care an awful lot,
If someone is gay,
Then they are themselves,
If someone is lesbian,
Then they are themselves,
If someone is fat,
They are themselves,
If someone is thin,
They are themselves,
Some people act,
They act as other people,
They don’t want to be themselves,
They mustn’t be happy,
If you are who you are,
And receive grief,
They are only jealous,
If you are not who you are,
People look at you in pity,
They aren’t so jealous,
You can never win,
Do you be yourself?
Do you act?
Either way people judge wrong,
Is it them covering?
Is it them acting?
Are they themselves?
Or are they also hiding?
poem by Jodie Louise Pollock
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The Bar Room has a corner table placed strategically at a point diagonally across from the entrance. the table of tables in the setting of settings in the building of buildings. In the religion of lunch, this is the holy of holies.
quote by Raymond Sokolov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Shots Of Happy, One Shot Of Sad
Two shots of happy, one shot of sad
You think Im no good, well I know Ive been bad
Took you to a place, now you cant get back
Two shots of happy, one shot of sad
Walked together down a dead end street
We were mixing the bitter with the sweet
Dont try to figure out what we might of had
Just two shots of happy, one shot of sad
Im just a singer, some say a sinner
Rolling the dice, not always a winner
You say Ive been lucky, well hell Ive made my own
Not part of the crowd, but not feeling alone
Under pressure, but not bent out of shape
Surrounded, we always found an escape
Drove me to drink, but hey thats not all bad
Two shots of happy, one shot of sad
Guess Ive been greedy, all of my life
Greedy with my children, my lovers, my wife
Greedy for the good things as well as the bad
Two shots of happy, one shot of sad
Maybe its just talk, saloon singing
The chairs are all stacked, the swingings stopped swinging
You say I hurt you, you put the finger on yourself
Then after you did it, you came crying for my help
Two shots of happy, one shot of sad
Im not complaining, baby Im glad
You call it a compromise, well whats that
Two shots of happy, one shot of sad
Two shots of happy, one shot of sad
(happy birthday, frank)
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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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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The Afternoon Sun
This room, how well I know it.
Now they're renting it, and the one next to it,
as offices. The whole house has become
an office building for agents, businessmen, companies.
This room, how familiar it is.
The couch was here, near the door,
a Turkish carpet in front of it.
Close by, the shelf with two yellow vases.
On the right -no, opposite- a wardrobe with a mirror.
In the middle the table where he wrote,
and the three big wicker chairs.
Beside the window the bed
where we made love so many times.
They must still be around somewhere, those old things.
Beside the window the bed;
the afternoon sun used to touch half of it.
. . . One afternoon at four o'clock we separated
for a week only . . . And then-
that week became forever.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Inventory
We've a room
That we call home,
With a bed in it,
And a table
And some chairs,
A to Z in it.
There's a mirror,
And a safe,
And a lamp in it.
Were there more,
Our mighty love
Might get cramp in it.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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There Aint No Love
As we sit out on the back porch
And the night begins to show
It feels good just to be here and unwind
And the sun is slowly setting
A reflection in your eyes
And when you look my way
I have to say
The thought thats crossed my mind
Chorus:
And you know there aint no love
There aint no love like yours for me
And its plain my love
Youve been heaven sent made specially
There aint no love
There aint no love like yours for me
And well remain in love
With the kind of love
Most lovers never see
You always sit and listen
When I feel the need to talk
When Im feeling insecure and filled with doubt
Youve got the way to make me happy
And its right there in your smile
And love for me will always be what I cant do without
Repeat chorus
There aint no love like yours for me
And its plain my love
Youve been heaven sent made specially
There aint no love
There aint no love like yours for me
Well remain in love..
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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Hairdresser
Have you understood tables and chairs?
Underneath the bench are a number of hairs.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Thw Musical Lady
The Musical Lady
I knew of a pavement café where tables and chairs were painted
in different colours, this to lend ambience in an otherwise dreary
street. A young lady, a student at the music conservatorium, came
here for lunch and always insisted on sitting on the same chair,
a rosa one; she was pretty in stern way, long black dress, flat shoes,
plain long hair and big glasses, waiters were happy to oblige her.
This caused jalousie amongst other chairs that wanted her to sit on
them too. In the night they ganged up on the rosa one, upended it
and scratched badly. The owner thought it was the work of vandals,
put the damage chair in the store room, but when the musical lady
came she insisted to sit on her chair damaged or not. Other seats
felt bad realizing it was not the rosa’s fault but the idiosyncrasy of
the artist, so in the night the spruced up the rosa till it looked as new.
But now the pianist didn’t want it, not the same as before, she said
and sat on a yellow chair. Feeling a miffed the gleaming new looking
seat said to itself: “No big shake she had a narrow, cold bum anyway.”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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