Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

What Did The Fly On The Wall See, At The Last Supper

Franklin Goode Avatar  Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled What Did The Fly On The Wall See, At The Last Supper which was written by poet Franklin Goode. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

Read Poems by Franklin Goode

Best Franklin Goode Poems

+ Fav Poet

What Did The Fly On The Wall See, At The Last Supper

What did the fly on wall see at the last supper?

Really! You say there were no flies on the wall during the last supper.  How can you be sure? Okay, there’s more.

What a supper! I the fly, never witness such a meal. Never seen so many concerned and worried men in a small room.  One would think, they hadn’t eaten in forty days.

The candle light was low and the voices also. The evening started out peaceful, but little did the twelve know, this night would bring a big show, that history would always know.

There was one betrayer at the table, who wasn’t eating. He had a worried look on his face, as if; he was late for a date. A short wrinkly face man, flipping a silver coin. He kept watching the sand dial with anxiousness. 

 Even I, the fly began to get nervous. I flapped my wings to cool myself for a moment.
As the supper was winding down, just before dessert was served, the wrinkly face man announced he had an urgent appointment, he had to attend.  

The guest of honor said “Just a moment, before you go, don’t worry about closing the door. As a matter of fact, leave some room in your pockets. For this ungodly thing you are about to do.”

Powerful words, even for I the fly. The guest of honor was cool, calm and very collective.  He said in a divinely voice, “this is the last super that I will have with you.”  Now there were deep concerns, as quietness echoed the room.

A toast was proposed. Everyone has a glass of wine and a piece of bread; this would be a night known as the beginning of a testament. 

The fly knows, what he knows, and he can attest to the facts. After the toast, all the men formed a circled, holding hands with heads down, and whispering Amen… 

As a matter of fact, there never has been, nor will it ever be, a night like that night. 
This is not a fly story, but a story, 'The Guest of Honor' died for.

Dr. “G”

Post Comments

Please Login to post a comment
  1. Date: 5/18/2012 5:23:00 PM
    did you just write this today? Interesting and clever perspective of a fly. Enjoyed your poem. Hugs, catie :)