Orlando's Cafe
I sit alone on a black painted chair
putting my elbow on the black painted table
fronting a gray painting of a man
gathering rice
a Romano,
i wait
i close my eyes
to a cat nap
i hear the conversations
but i am not interested
of people on the other table
i imagine two lovers, a fat woman and
a skinny man
sharing spaghetti and coke
while a mother with a white skin
feeds a small slice of pizza
to her English speaking girl
who keeps on saying
that she changed her mind
into not eating another piece
of that Hawaiian menu,
the fat woman looks at me
wanting to tell me
why i am lonely
as though
when one sits and eats alone
signifies nothing
but loneliness
i could have told her
it is not the case
that i in turn suspects that
the skinny man
perhaps is the loneliest
man
sitting watching a
fat and unattractive woman
before him
at Orlando's Cafe....
surprisingly i realize
i have become a man of few words
actually
i am too mindful of myself then
conscious
that throughout that time
i never uttered
a word
it is my mind that does the talking
as though
everyone who are there
are all the more lonely
as i try to capture
them all
within the framework
of some
consonants...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Over His Latte.
He's only just sat down
in the cafe when she enters
and stands at the counter
waiting to be served. He lets
his latte settle. Allows his
eyes to scrutinize. The waitress
serves the woman in the white
hat and black dress. He notes
her fine figure, the low cut at
the neck, the thin straps over
shoulders. He tries to breathe
in from where he sits her perfume,
but it doesn't come. The woman
orders an espresso and says it
with an Italian accent. He follows
her with his eyes as she walks
to a table alone. She looks like a
girl Modigliani would have painted.
She looks at her watch and then
around the room of the cafe.
She crosses her legs, one over
the other, thigh revealed. He sips
his latte. Wipes his lips with the
back of his hand. Bad habit, mother
would have slapped his hand as a
child once. The waitress delivers
the woman's coffee; he notes the
waitress's fine behind, the hands
serving, the legs touching together.
Then she's gone. Just the woman
in the white hat to study. The way
she lifts the small white cup to her
mouth, her fingers holding delicately,
as if afraid to break. Get a life Brody
would say if he were there. But he's not;
he's away with that girl from the office,
having a lay. The woman in the hat
stares at him, her eyes devour, her lips
part like legs before sex. She looks boringly
away. He sips more latte. He doesn't like
her white hat or black dress anyway.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Phat
The word 'fat' is a term,
That 'skinny people' use,
Because they don't know what else to say,
When they see a 'fat person.'
No one has to be so rude about it,
When they see a 'fat person' eating ice cream,
Or sitting around watching others,
But some 'skinny people' don't understand to just dropp a conversation.
The word 'rude' is what 'fat people' use when someone makes fun of them,
'Fat people' are all over the world,
And yet - 'skinny people' don't want to accept the fact that 'fat people' are in this cruel world,
So some 'skinny people' have to act like they're all that and be mean to others.
There are people in this world that are 'low class' and are different from the people in the 'higher class, '
Because some people in the 'lower class' goes into depression and eat,
Because of the events happening in their life,
And so they become 'fat.'
But what 'skinny people' explain,
Is that they are slobs and can't eat normal instead of shoving food down their throat,
But what 'fat people' explain,
Is that they try to lose weight, but some of them can't because it's hard.
'Skinny people' make fun of them and 'fat people' let them,
Because some 'skinny people' don't know how it feels like to be 'fat, '
And some 'skinny people' call 'fat people' ugly and of course 'fat, '
But what 'skinny people' don't know is that we all are phat.
poem by Alicia Meyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman In Black
I knew the moment
I walked through that door
I felt so close to a burning sensation
It got so warm
As I moved across the floor
My body aching with anticipation
I saw a dark silhouette, at the table
I tried to talk, but I was unable
She drew me in right under her spell
I was hypnotized by the sudden temptation
Of that woman in black, shes a mystery
Shes everything a woman should be
Woman in black, shes got a hold on me
Shes in control, she wont set me free
She is a woman
Shes not a girl anymore
The kind that stirs up a young mans imagination
Shes dressed to kill
And Im so ready to fall
Into her world full of strange fascination
I see that dark silhouette, at the table
I cant resist, my bodys not able
She draws me in, but she teaches me well
I never need any explanation
From that woman in black, shes a mystery
Shes everything a woman should be
I said, woman in black, got a hold on me
Shes in control, she wont set me free
Ooh, woman in black
Its too late now
I cant turn back
cause Im a fool for that woman
Woman in black
Ooh, ooh, woman in black
Ooh, that woman in black, shes a mystery
Shes everything a woman should be
That woman in black, shes got a hold on me
Shes in control, she wont set me free
Shes my mysterious mistress
But she leaves me so helpless
My woman in black
Shes a dark senorita
My woman in black
No sunday school teacher
My woman in black
Were keeping it a secret
We meet in the night
Were partners in silence
Strangers in daylight
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paint It
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they are painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and its heading into black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I wanna see it painted, painted black, oh
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted from the sky
Painted, painted, painted black oh baby
Painted painted, painted black
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Imagine
i imagine
you
thinking woman
your elbow
calloused
on the table
by so much
thinking
your legs
scarred
your bottoms
bothered
by innumerable
ideas
coming out
from your
head
like the
colored
sparks
of the fourth
of July
i imagine
you sitting
on your study
a heated
chair
a burning
table
a room
crowded
with a lot
of warring
ideas
a bed
not enticing
you to sleep
i imagine
you thinking
woman
scribbling
your poems
burning
a dozen
candles
i imagine
your fury
your disappointments
your disgrace
your fall
from their
grasp
the bump
of your head
on their
shallow waters
thinking woman
be pleased
in truth
i have not
offended you
all my hairs
have decided
to fall
on the floor
and my eyes
have lost
the need
for eyelids
and be happy
we still talk
in the lines
of this
unstoppable
poetry
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Faces Of God
The black man told me that God's face is black
I argued white but then I took it back
As God may be black and it would seem to me
That God's the colour that one wish to see.
The woman told me that God is a she
I argued with her of course God's a he
But having thought on it I changed my mind
If God was born God came of Woman-kind.
The young girl told me her rabbit's God her rabbit she adore
But I could not agree with her I've heard it all before
But then I thought maybe she's right and who am I to disagree
And perhaps her rabbit may be God if God in him she see.
God may be black or brown or white, god may be he or she,
God may be even young girl's pet if God in him she see,
God's different to most people to every creed and race
And to every Nationality God has a different face.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Lovers
I like sitting at this particular table in this lively Café
eating my cheese toastie and drinking black coffee.
At a nearby table, two lovers are kissing and making up,
but then after their last kiss they decided to disconnect
to take a deep drag from their shared cigarette
and to take a sip from their cooling coffee cup.
Placing the cigarette in the ash tray they cuddled back together
fitting like a glove with their arms around each other
totally preoccupied, giving no one else a second look.
After several minutes of holding, kissing and whispering,
and the occasional passionate tongue in mouth sucking
it looked as though they were here for the rest of the day.
Suddenly her chair flew backwards, as she quickly stood up
rocking the table, which spilled the coffee from their cups
and the ashtray to hit the floor, as she pushed him away.
She then slapped his face and shouted at him in anger,
but he sat calm and collected, and said that he loved her,
and she had misunderstood what he was trying to say.
With her hot temper cooling she decided to sit back down
and asked him a question, which caused her face to frown,
as he explained she dragged the chair closer to him again.
Picking up the fallen ashtray she listened to what he said
whilst others in the Café were drinking and being fed,
and outside it persistently poured with torrential rain.
She ordered two fresh coffees, with a deep sigh of regret
while he lit up another blue tipped cigarette,
which they both drew upon until none remained.
He held out his hands as they looked into each other’s eyes,
with a smile she touched his finger, as though to apologise
then dragged her chair closer and began kissing again.
I like sitting at this particular table in this lively Café
eating my cheese toastie and drinking black coffee
watching people fall out who later make up,
and it’s by no means unusual to see in this busy place
a few exchanged words followed by a slap across the face
and then a kiss and make up, over a fresh coffee cup.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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the man sitting alone at the cafeteria of Perpetual Succor Hosptal
he is black, native Filipino
wears a coat, white polo shirt
fat and big tummy
sipping coffee and alone
a book on the right side of his table
he is not reading it
an attache case is on his left leg
he is at the side of the glass window
of the second floor of this hospital run by nuns
below is the garden of palm trees and
grass and perennial violets and vietnam roses
he is not taking any breakfast
perhaps he is waiting for someone
i sit over a corner fronting him
i am observing the details of his existence
i know it is another sad story
but he is not talking about it
i know there is no use
what for is sharing another story
about life's tragedy?
will it be another story of a husband
contemplating about his next move
what to do with a wife stricken with
breast cancer at stage 4?
i look around
there is another man in shorts
riding on a wheel chair
pushed by a woman in her forties
an old woman, a child crying, etc. etc. etc.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black Woman!
BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMAN, YOUR SENSUOUS
SPLENDOR IS LIKE THE SHINING SUN YOUR
WONDROUS WAYS COME FROM YOUR SOUL
WHICH NO ONE MAN MAY HOPE TO CONTROL
BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMAN, YOU ARE THE GUIDING
HOPE OF OUR PEOPLE
BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMAN, YOUR MIND MAINTAINS
YOUR GLORIOUS POWER
BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMAN, YOUR SPIRIT IS
LIKE A SHINING CHURCH TOWER WHICH POINTS THE
WAY TO HEAVEN ABOVE AND WHICH
SEEKS TO FIND TRUE LOVE
BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMAN, YOU ARE THE GUIDING
HOPE OF OUR PEOPLE
BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMAN, YOUR TIME IS LIKE A
PRECIOUS COMMODITY
BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMAN, YOUR EBONY WILL IS
STRONG AND FREE SO TAKE YOUR PRECIOUS TIME
AND YOUR DETERMINED WILL AND USE THEM BOTH TO
EMPHASIZE WHAT YOU REALLY FEEL
BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMAN, YOU ARE THE GUIDING HOPE
OF OUR PEOPLE
BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMAN, IN YOU LIES OUR FUTURE!
poem by Samuel Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Piece of This
A son trying to help his mother who’s 83 in to the tub to bathe hears words that cut him to his very soul, “You must want a piece of this.” Now, as he hold back his hurt and wipe the spit of his face that his mother had spat on him thoughts begin to race through his mind. How could the woman who gave birth to me think that I would want to do that to her? She comforted me when I was afraid at night. She fed me when I hungry. Yes she was the first woman I loved just like any son would love his mother. But no I have no Oedipus complex. So no I don’t want a piece of that. Wow, this woman is the Grandmother to my son I wonder if I was not here and he was would she say to him “You must want a piece of this.” I know Alzheimer has taken over her mind and she is not the loving mother I once knew but it stills hurts to hear her say, “You must want a piece of this.”
It is not the intelligent woman v. the ignorant woman; nor the white woman v. the black, the brown, and the red, it is not even the cause of woman v. man. Nay, tis woman's strongest vindication for speaking that the world needs to hear her voice.
quote by Anna Julia Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mothers Day
Mothers day
is not like valentine day
where you care for your mother like money
since in 2012 it was on monday
mothers love and care
its so good that it floats in the air
although mothers take care for the hair
since they sit bossy on the chair
children celebrate them and rejoice
while drinking coke and ice
een the mother sits while eating rice
since their day is so nice
we dance and sing
as the father gives the mother a valentine ring
she sits on the chair relaxing
since she doesnt need to be working
we thank all the mothers since they are not mean
as their day is tight like a skinny jean
their work is sweet like a dream
all you have to do is say
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY
poem by Tanaka Chirombo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Devil Woman
Ive had nothing but bad luck
Since the day I saw the cat at my door
So I came into you sweet lady
Answering your mystical call
Crystal ball on the table
Showing the future,the past
Same cat with them evil eyes
And I knew itwas a spell she cast
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you from behind
Give me the ring on your finger
Let me see the lines on your hand
I can see me a tall dark stranger
Giving you what you hadnt planned
I drank the potion she offered me
I found myself on the floor
Then I looked into those big green eyes
And I wondered what Id come there for
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you from behind
If youre out on a moonlit night
Be careful of them neighbourhood strays
Of a lady with long black hair
Tryin to win you with her feminine ways
Crystal ball on the table
Showing the future,the past
Same cat with them evil eyes
Youd better get out of there fast
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you...
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Woman
black woman
woman black
sing to me
sing to me
like Roberta Flack
tell me your longing
say you'll be there
tell it like honey
your cool moist breath
black woman
black as the cat
who strives in the night
sleek as the bird
daring in flight
black as the land
in which you were born
and bleak the day
from that earth
you were torn
black angel
black eyes aware
ebony skin
natural hair
black woman
woman black
love me forever
love me now
don't hold back
poem by Martin A. Ramos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paint It Black
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and theyre all painted black
With flowers and my love, both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a newborn baby it just happens evryday
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and it has been painted black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not forsee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
Hmm, hmm, hmm...
I wanna see it painted black, painted black
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun, blotted out from the sky
I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black
Yeah
song performed by by Face To Face
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Making Love To A Black Woman
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Romantically and Patiently;
Take the time to make love to her mind.
Fulfill all of her midnight wishes.
Cover her entire body with soft wet kisses.
Tell her, so that she will know!
There's no place on her body
your tongue won't go.
And, when you love a Black Woman,
you love her real slow.
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Passionately and Sincerely;
Let her Sweetness become your Weakness.
Do not use just the Penis, But include your ear.
Listen to the sweet sound of her moans
and see what you hear.
Feel the warmth and care of her loving embrace.
Place your mouth on hers and savor the taste.
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Sensually and Honestly;
Say what you mean and mean what you say.
Tell her that you love her,
more and more with each passing day.
Let all of the fantasies that dance in her head.
Become her moonlight reality
when it's time to go to bed.
Kiss and lick all over her body
until you find all her right spots.
Touch and caress her soft skin
and make her real hot.
Mutual satisfaction is a lover's plan.
Love her, cause you are in love with her.
She's your Woman and your her Man.
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Lovingly and completely;
Love her until her 'Screams of Passion'
are all you that hear.
Suck on her neck and stick
your tongue in her ear.
Hold her soft round ass
in the palm of your hands.
Let her sexual wishes
become your loving commands.
Love your Black Woman with
your Mind, Body and Soul.
She's the most precious gift on this Earth.
She's worth her weight in gold.
How do you make love to a Black Woman?
There's only one true way to start.
To make love to a Black Woman,
just give her your Heart.
poem by Samuel Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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While I Was Walking My Way Back Home
a fat woman
sits by the alley
with a blond hair
dyed
not natural for her
race
her eyes are
chinks
and her built as small
she is the usual Asian
woman
mindful of
who passes by
cannot resist talking
and putting
in contempt
a fellow Asian
like her.
i wave a hand at her
and call her
sister.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wench
Written by: david henman, james henman,
Ritchie henman and myles goodwyn
I just dropped in to see how my woman was
I wish to spend some time with her
Its not hard to see no reason why
Shell be leaving when the morning come
She was just a woman now
Just some lonely woman now
Just some lonely woman
The only woman Ive ever had
She stayed while I talked love to her
There was nothin she wished to know
Well things were bad and still the same
She is leaving on the morning train
She was just a woman now
Just some lonely woman now
Just some lonely woman
The only woman Ive ever had
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
My dreams are of a
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Had A Talk With A Woman Just A While Ago
I had a talk with a woman just a while ago
Well, she is not just a woman,
She is that woman
The other woman,
That he always brags about,
Witty, witty, tweedy, tweet,
& shitty
To me, forgive me, but she is
Witty too, wait,
I wish him dead and for weeks I will be wearing black
Custom,
Tradition they say,
It will be my color of good riddance
Of this bastard of that woman
Sleeping in bed squeezing some drops of life
To lengthen that sense of agony,
Waiting on a chair
In a hospital room as though I am a passenger
On a plane on a flight to nowhere
Well, at least I have shown some chunks of my
Being nasty and
Well,
This touch of class that money always
Gives,
But I showed my wit,
My shit,
And she did not believe it,
Well,
At least, I am consoled,
I am the lie
And she will be the truth for a time
Until
Another encounter, with a web cam this time,
Perhaps tomorrow
When black will be the color of the week,
Or I will
Compromise for white,
Just in case, she still insists that I am still a lie
Just like him with her in some greenish spacious cyber bed.
Just a while ago, I had a talk with that woman,
she will feel what I feel she will.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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