The Banquet For The Spectator
the table is abundant
like life, but to be happy
i eat nothing,
i watch them all
fill their appetites
after this banquet
i ask them to take away
all that is unconsumed.
when the table is empty
what i have is full satisfaction
of course, i never tell them
i am polite.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Food On My Table
Come and see the food on my table,
For it is prepared for you and me;
And, i am waiting for you in the room of my love.
Life is full of surprises and i want to show you my love,
And here comes the sun of the morning to touch your heart;
For, it is right for you to be beside me at this table.
The food on my table,
As soon as you receive my letter means that i love you;
For life is full of surprises and i want your love,
So come and let us share this food on my table.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Upon A Day Of Reckoning
it is always i
who cleans the table from
morsels
who throws away the trash
of what is unconsumed from
the kettle
it is always i
who wipes the spilled milk
on the floor
who takes all the shit
on the sink
who kills all the bedbugs
on the pillow
it is always i
and on the day of reckoning
the table and chairs will be smooth
and glossy
the windows look to the other side without blinking
the door shall be mute forever
the hinges and frames all numb
on the last slamming.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Happy New Year?
The table sits in darkened room
Its fare all spent its contents strewn
All use now ended, empty shell
A place where only thoughts now dwell
For this is last years empty table
Feasted on by all those able
Some who sat and joined the fest
Have left our mortal life to rest
Friends anew have stepped on board
As life continues rest assured
For in the light of room next door
The circle starts again once more
A brand new table full to flowing
What it holds not ours for knowing
Be sure this though safe from fear
To take your place for this New Year
Amongst the newly laid out feast
When hope and faith are all increased
Savour what this new year brings
As midnight bells chime 12 strong rings.
poem by Dave James
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A Tale Of New Year
The table sits in darkened room
Its fare all spent its contents strewn
All use now ended, empty shell
A place where only thoughts now dwell
For this is last years empty table
Feasted on by all those able
Some who sat and joined the fest
Have left our mortal life to rest
Friends anew have stepped on board
As life continues rest assured
For in the light of room next door
The circle starts again once more
A brand new table full to flowing
What it holds not ours for knowing
Be sure this though safe from fear
To take your place for this New Year
Amongst the newly laid out feast
When hope and faith are all increased
Savour what this new year brings
As midnight bells chime 12 strong rings.
poem by Dave James
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Everyone happy :)
Everyone happy
Everyone happy when they can pay their bills
Everyone happy when they have money in their pocket
Everyone happy when a person tells them they love you
Everybody happy when they have food on their table
Everyone happy when they have cloths on their back
Everyone happy everything goes right in there life
Everyone happy when find them a boyfriend or girlfriend
Everyone happy when they pass a test
Everyone happy when they get a new car
What happen when you lose everything?
What happen when you don’t have anywhere to go?
Or no food on your table
Your lights about to get cut off
No money in your pocket
Bills are due no money
Can you still be happy and have a smile on your face
poem by Jovahn Davis
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The Table
This table is reserved an invitation for two,
only one sits alone and the other chair is bare.
He waits and waits as the hours creep through.
Stares at the empty space and wonders where are you.
He looks at his watch as another hour ticks by,
looks at the door to see who is coming through.
He feels eyes staring, probably wondering whom
he is waiting for as the minutes turn to hours.
The empty chair remains bare
as outside the sun sets as night begins to call.
This table is reserved for two, but where are you?
He thinks of all the reasons why you could be late
for this most important date.
He has rehearsed his lines of what he purposed to say.
The box with the ring within his pocket stays.
Where are you he wonders, do you love him anymore?
The negative thoughts invaded his mind
as he waits looking at the door, just waiting for you.
Finally the waiter comes along and tells him they are about to close.
He gives one last look at the door, then gets up and goes.
The reserved table for two stands empty and bare.
Those who should have sat there are gone never to return,
and as the light go out the table stands alone and forlorn.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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That Porcelain Bowl
my heart delights
to see an empty porcelain bowl
on the table
i wish i'd be one
empty and can still be filled
someday you may fill me
again
like a fish
soup.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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My Mom Sets the Table
Night after night my mom sets the table
full of joy she passes her hand over the green fleat
like dishes she lays her chips down
they her finest china carefully stacked
her drink is the insurance bet
night after night 21 meals are servered
6 people share the meal with her
we her family eat alone
yet night after night my mom sets the table
the table of broken dreams and poisoned meals
night after night she countinues to eat
untill is consumed
Night after night my mom sets the table
night after night we her family shallow the bitter meal she makes
Night after night my mom sets the table.....
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
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My Mom Sets the Table
Night after night my mom sets the table
full of joy she passes her hand over the green fleat
like dishes she lays her chips down
they her finest china carefully stacked
her drink is the insurance bet
night after night 21 meals are servered
6 people share the meal with her
we her family eat alone
yet night after night my mom sets the table
the table of broken dreams and poisoned meals
night after night she countinues to eat
untill is consumed
Night after night my mom sets the table
night after night we her family shallow the bitter meal she makes
Night after night my mom sets the table
poem by Vincent Armone
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Hope That I Get Old Before I Die
Sometimes I feel like being wispy
And once in a while I feel like being dry
But we're doomed and we're drowned by this feeling we surround
So I hope that I get old before I die
It's a long, long rope they use to hang you soon I hope
And I wonder why this hasn't happened
Why why why
And I think about the dirt that I'll be wearing for a shirt
And I hope that I get old before I die
Clear off the kitchen table darling
For on the kitchen table I must lie
I'm just tired for my wife just served the banquet of my life
And I hope that I get old before I die
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Colin The Cumberland Sausage
Colin the Cumberland sausage
was as happy as a pig in mud.
Today the master butcher made him
for the table of Mr Wood.
So full of beans was Colin
he was nearly bursting from his skin,
until the butcher wrapped him in paper
for the errand boy to deliver him.
Colin the Cumberland sausage
was delivered the very same day
to Publican Wood at the Barley Mow pub
who would cook him in the usual way.
Colin was laid out on the table
ready to go in the pan,
but Wuffer the dog entered the kitchen
and took Colin in his mouth and ran.
Now nobody knows what became of Colin
we assume he was eaten by the dog,
but don’t be surprised to see his brother
on the table of the Barley Mow pub.
poem by Orlando Belo
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A Table For Two!
Flash of dream overcome me
as I took slumber one night
I saw a romantic setting
lies a set of table for two
A bouquet of red roses
decorate at the center
where a bottle of red wine
completes the table for two
I saw you entered the haven
dressed in rainbow colored suit
your face so pretty with a smile
as we kissed at the table for two
Mesmerized by your countenance
I was filled with romantic stance
as we danced to the tune of love
such so divine at the table for two
Awaken at height of joy
I am filled with inspiration
as today it becomes a reality
a table for two on Valentines day
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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The Uninvited Guest
(music: marillion lyrics: steve hogarth & john helmer)
You may not recall the moment that you asked me
But your invitation was clear
Youll pretend youve never met me
But its far to late
Now Im here
Cause Im the one who knows what scares you
Im the one who loves you best
Im the thirteenth at the table
Im the uninvited guest
Im the banquo at your banquet
Im the cuckoo in your nest
Im your fifteen stone first-footer
Im the uninvited guest
I was there when you said insincere I love yous
To a woman that wasnt your wife
And I fronted you the money
That you ran away and blew
On the biggest regret of your live
Cause Im the one who knows what scares you
Im the who loves you best
Im the thirteenth at the table
Im the uninvited guest
Im the banquo at your banquet
Im the cuckoo in your nest
Im your new years resolution
Im the uninvited guest
Im the face you hoped youd never see
But always knew you would
Im the one thing you knew you shouldnt do
But did because you could
Im the evil in your bloodstream
Im the rash upon your skin
And you made a big mistake alright
The day you let me in
And you can fly to the other side of the world
You know youll only find
Ive reserved the seat behind you
We can talk about old times
Cause Im the one who knows what scares you
Im the who loves you best
Im the thirteenth at the table
Im the uninvited guest
Im the banquo at your banquet
Im the cuckoo in your nest
Im your fifteen stone first-footer
Im the uninvited guest
Im you new years resolution
Im the uninvited guest
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Hidden Sweetness Is There
217
What hidden sweetness there is in this emptiness of the belly!
Man is surely like a lute, no more and no less;
For if, for instance, the belly of the lute becomes full, no
lament high or low will arise from that full lute.
If your brain and belly are on fire through fasting, because of
the fire every moment a lament will arise from your breast.
Every moment you will burn a thousand veils by that fire; you
will mount a hundred steps with zeal and endeavor.
Become empty of belly, and weep entreatingly like the reed
pipe; become empty of belly, and tell secrets with the reed pen.
If your belly is full at the time of concourse, it will bring Satan
in place of your reason, an idol in place of the Kaaba.
When you keep the fast, good habits gather together before
you like slaves and servants and retinue.
Keep the fast, for that is Solomon’s ring; give not the ring to
the div, destroy not your kingdom.
Even if your kingdom has gone from your head and your army
has fled, your army will rise up, pennants flying above them.
The table arrived from heaven to the tents of the fast, by the
intervention of the prayers of Jesus, son of Mary.
In the fast, be expectant of the table of bounty, for the table of
bounty is better than the broth of cabbages.
One On One With An Empty Glass
the final confrontation is finally set on the table
the mantel still pretends to be clean
the morsels are polite and the empty glass is civil
just a while ago, it was filled with water
up to the brim and now it is thirsty again
and it stares at me begging for more
but i give it silence hoping that it shall remember
what origin it has
from the department store
it stares at me and threatens me with the pain of emptiness
it does not move
giving me the semblance of an earth that stops to spin
nothing falls and the possibility of freezing is pestering me
i lay my hand on the chest telling it that i am not at all disturbed
i listen to the rhythmic beatings of my heart
i bite my lips like bread using my teeth
i close my eyes and begin my journey inward
my gut
i remember the sound of the broken glass
i recall how i sweep the shattered pieces
i still picture myself digging a hole and burying what should be forgotten
i do not sleep and i do not dream much
i breathe more air and then i awaken all my senses
the glass is empty still and it is there to manifest a surrender
i have learned to fill my lungs with air
the moments pass away taking all that i have and now
i am full.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Im happy
Im happy because all of my biils are paid
Im happy because i woke up and saw a brand new day
Im happy because i have food on my table
Im happy because my free
Im happy because im me
Im happy because i have my family
Im happy because im living
Im happy just for air and oxygen
Im happy just to be happy
poem by Jovahn Davis
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How can I empty My Mind?
Came out that emptiness,
Bored of what I was,
Looking at the atom shining somewhere in me,
I looked at wonderful world I entered,
Looking at beauties with beautiful faces,
I was only the faceless,
Wished to have a face!
Result is what I am now,
Facing problems of having a face,
Not seen by myself!
Some say look into mirror,
But mirror showed image which is not me,
How can live this is me looking at image?
In the path I met some one,
They said ' you suffered a lot,
Empty your mind, be happy, '
But how can empty my mind,
So many fill it everyday,
Hungry faces,
thirsty minds,
Needy hands fill compassion,
lusty and greedy, selfish and cruel fill
people fill pain,
Wise one fill wisdom,
Fools fill laughter,
Friends fill it with love and smile!
How can I empty my mind,
When beauty around,
Smiling kids, playing puppies,
Jumping and running kittens,
colourful fragrant flowers,
Surrounded by bees and butterflies,
Green trees with wide hands full of fruits,
All call me to enjoy with them!
Tall standing trees and stubborn mountains,
lakes and oceans full of life,
they fill my mind as much I empty, more they fill!
I emptied mind in meditation,
But the beauty of one who filled beauty in all filled my mind,
How can empty love for that beautiful one,
Who is that beauty in all that's beautiful!
Smiling and loving people,
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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A Round Table
we have this round table
and we put all our hands
on it when we eat and
drink and just talk for
hours and hours and
listen. And we ask what
is happening: Karding
broke a leg and Delia
is looking for the money.
Always it is the money.
Always she is short of
the money. And there
were jewelries hanging
on her neck and arms
and fingers, and we all
ask at this round table:
what is happening?
Nothing, don't mind at
all, this is just a part of
the round table, some
wine glass that broke
and must be swept at
once. We keep away the
sound of a crying pig.
We eat pigs here at this
round table. Then we shifted
the talk about our dead
parents. We pray. We
remember we keep on
saying this. We finish eating
the pig. We drink a very
cold water. Our throats
are irritated and we step
out of the room wanting
to pull away our tongues.
when we come back the
round table is empty.
and we laugh about a
joke that we remember.
our childhood games
the river, and the boat
that father made for us.
we turn off the tv and we
begin to talk about the
beautiful flowers in mother's
old garden, the secret one.
we agree. we miss it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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