Best Tables Poems
You may be sitting high and mighty now my friend
but you will not always be
for your unearned happiness will one day end
should you live long enough, you'll definitely see.
Your only interests in life is having fun
you're the life of the party, or so it seems
but you must one day pay for the wrong that you've done
and explain why you've killed so many dreams.
You fail to remember all of the hearts that you've broken
as well as all of the mean things that you've said
you never apologize for any of your lies
you just pretend that it never happened instead.
Your friends think you're the best, maybe even a star
while inside, you're dirty and rotten
you may choose to forget who you really are
but believe me, God has not forgotten.
You've lied and cheated to get your way
you've stepped on many to get to the top
you'll suffer for these decisions that you've made, one day
and then that ball that you're having will drop.
I am not wishing anything bad on you
believe me, I wish you the best
however, there are consequences for all that you do
and you are swinging at a hornet's nest.
You think that you already know everything
yet there is one thing that you haven't yet learned
you see, I happen to know, that we reap what we sew
and you will too, once the tables have turned.
by
Benjamin Macieo Davis
ThePrinceofPoetry
He had better be dead I told friends,
Making them smile, from ends to ends.
They thought I was being hilarious
I was truly, frankly being serious
He did not help at all, I informed them haughtily.
I was on a roll now, telling them a little bit snottily.
"You had better be dead!" I yelled to his false-acting back.
He was deep-snoring, his lying pretending to be asleep act.
I was on a roll now, entertaining my table and the next two.
Come on! A perfect stranger yelled. "What did you do?"
The place had stopped eating. It was all about me.
I have not done it yet, I informed her. But I will about three.
They followed me home, six tables of strangers and me.
They wanted to see, how assertive and mean I could be.
I put them in cages, and strung them up by their toes.
You should not follow strangers, as everyone knows!
Verse 1
Epitaph for a Shy Guy
He spoke in secrets ,shadows said so sweet,
A murmur,muted,on the main street.
His silence screamed a story,softly,slow,
A secret sparkle scarcely seen to glow.
The quietest voice was quote,we carefully
quote it still,
His peaceful presence,a perfect,peaceful
perfect pill.
Verse 2.
Epitaph for the Baadjievanger (1)
He snared,the swift,sly,silver-tongued
salesman,
Who wove his webs, winning with wit,when
the world began.
His dreams were a dream, a dazzling dreadful
disaster,
He caught all the cash,moving closer,then
faster.
The final fool fell for fate's false flatter,
His promises proven dust, do they even
matter?
Baadjievanger-A hanger-on,a scammer,opportunist, trickster
Verse 3.
Epitaph for the king of Bling
Here lies a life lined with lovers and
loudness,
A silver sky sparkling several sounds of
stunning soundness.
He wore gold gleaming,his soul's silver song,
But glitter's gone,grandeur's gone,a glimmer
gone gone.
The final flash has faded,a silent, sober
state so swift,
His most mighty magnificence,a memory's
miserable myth.
Verse 4.
Epitaph For the Great Tycoon
A power prince,he piled profits past
the planet's peak,
He bought bank buildings and a billion
bank notes for a break,.
His grip on gold,greatest of governments,
gloomed so grand,
But all his stocks and shares now sleep
beneath the same sand.
He made millions and a mountain of material
money,
Yet mortal making means memory's most
melancholy morning.
Verse 5
Epitaph for a gangster
Here lies a life lived fast and loud,
A silent shadow in the subway street crowd.
His guns are silent,glory's grave,
A kingpin's kingdom nothing could save.
The darkest deeds now dust and dream,
only the diamond death did secretly seam.
Verse 6
Epitaph for a Drunkard
He drank the day,he drained the darkest
dram,
A storm of spirits, slurring slam,
He found his freedom in the fluid flow,
His journey's joke, the bottle's bitter
blow.
The final bar is closed,the tab is settled low,
He's now not near the nectar nor the glass's
glow
There is a sadness that can not be spoken of.
And there is a pain that goes on and on.
There are empty chairs at empty tables,
For my friends are dead and gone.
It was here they talked of a revolution,
It was here that they lit the flame.
It was here they talked about tomorrow,
But tomorrow never came.
From that table in the far corner,
They could see a world reborn.
And they rose with their voices ringing,
I think I can hear them now.
The very words that they had said,
Are echoing,
Before the dawn.
Oh my friends, my friends forgive me.
That I live and you’re all gone.
There is a sadness that can not be spoken of.
And there is a pain that goes on and on.
Ghostly faces at that window.
Phantom shadows on that floor.
Empty chairs at empty tables,
Where my friends shall meet no more.
Oh my friends, please ask of me,
To avenge your sacrifice.
For empty chairs at empty tables,
Give me enough reason for war.
Saw a sign in a fast food stall in our local mall
“Tables are for eating customers only” I was really appalled
Kinda barbaric I'd say
But tasty in a soufflé
Perhaps rephrasing would save one life however small
there are empty tables
many empty tables
in this country
and in this
world
I sit
and I look at one of them
and wonder
if anyone else feels the way
I do
when their child tells them
they are hungry
and you have
no food to give
them
and then your child cries
and then you cry
and then they cry
some more
and then you cry
until finally
you both
just go to bed
living with a hunger
that does not ever sleep
© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
(December 8th, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)
If tables were turned
and I left you in the dust,
how would you feel then?
I’ve danced on tables
My boots laced high
I have that kinda style
Cognac in one hand
Tambourine in another
I go on for miles
Songs of sorrow
Songs of love
Sweeping the night time air
Stars all aglitter
A toast to you
Glasses raised high in the air
We sang and we danced
We laughed and romanced
Days that lasted forever
Now we look on
As they dance to our song
Our days have but gently ended
The sky touches the ground.
The poorest wears the crown.
The worlds richest, now begging for heavenly riches.
What and who is glorified on earth,
but not glorified in heaven.
If a pink elephant rides on a green wave then the tarantula will be under great pressure. Chains are a peril. Particularly when placed upon a coconut. Technical difficulties are often solved with the clear blue lines of a fountain pen. Or black. Any colour really. Whilst arranging blackberries on shelves be very very wary. Its often a stem that conceals a rot so never play bowling in a circus tent. Eradicating with forces in lots and lots of pans. A mean dinner can be clever. And clavicles can be turned into chord patterns. Often without permission. Merely the merry leaning of a lantern. Or a pond thinking of flight. It takes great effort and presence of mind to boil a fish in a kettle. Kiss kites karate Kala kale. Make no mistake the mist is important and importantly it is importable to wield a sharpened spear. And a bangle. Beaming booming braking banging beams. Question not a tooth from a tiger plaster cast decorated with a little swirling swimming starfish. Don't shove elephants in sustained supported shuttles. Hahahaha and now play croquet. Hahahaha and do a crossword xxxx ha statutory sickness pay *** hahahaha and now the wooden floor to the other day is good xxxx ha z. Ionisation x . At 23 degrees. Xxxx evaporation xxxx.
No eye could bear to meet the beggar’s gaze ;
A chasm lay between his world and theirs.
Vicarious, sham empathy might raise
Some paltry coins or hollow, barren prayers.
Whilst mockery would be his daily bread
Smug opulence passed by with callous stride,
Determined to leave every plea unread
And anxious to exult in plenty’s pride.
The affluent adjust their silken ties,
And homes with lavish luxuries adorn,
Whereas the impetus for this wretch lies
In having strength to greet another morn.
The irony of fate had played its part,
For he, like them was once stone cold of heart.
18 word challenge poetry contest
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15/12/18
2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 16 Poetry Contest
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Strand Choice 10,Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest
My wife and I were born only a few months apart,
I was older than her...so you know from whence I start.
When I was turning 50 she gave me some grief,
I didn't feel old, yet she teased me with this belief.
"I'll be living with an old man now", she would say,
In her little "cutie pie", "cut-up" way.
I knew I would have to do something to get back at her,
When she turned 50...was the time I waited for.
Those few months of her teasing me I never forgot,
Biding my time for revenge...or so I thought.
The big day came and I had the chance,
To avenge the barbs on which she'd made me dance.
We celebrated her 50th with some friends,
And got to talking about our ages, as those times tend.
I thought I'd be clever and cast out this net...
"I've never had sex with anyone over 50, as yet".
Our stunned little group fell silent and looked at me scantilly,
Thinking of how rude a comment to say...that was for me.
My wife, of course, knew the target to which I'd let my arrow fly,
Broke the silence of the moment, and made this reply...
"Well, I don't know how anyone else here might feel,
But I have had sex with one here older than 50, and it's NO BIG DEAL".
I had no rebuttal then and have had none until this time,
When I could put my perspective of all this into a rhyme.
It's been a brutal 17 years since that night,
When we sparred those few words in our "Age 50" fight.
But from that one chance banter I have learned one thing not to pick,
DON'T CROSS WORDS WITH HER...BECAUSE SHE'S JUST TOO QUICK!!
following the “suicide”
of Aaron Swartz,
a delightful punch has been driven
into the gut of the empire,
whose eyes now
twitch & whose muscles now
flinch,
for the tables are turning,
when it comes to oppressing the
citizens of this world.
there was a time when
those with guns & bombs
would win out every time
when approaching a peaceful
demonstration---
tearing up the crowds with brute
force &
leaving the dead & injured in
the wake,
they’d “teach us all a lesson,”
that we should not speak truth to
their power, that we should not
rouse the rabble,
that we should not try & breathe
when we are being smothered.
in Aaron’s own 26 years, he just
began to see the change, himself
such an integral part of a
technological uprising of sorts,
where the line has become blurred
between those who control the buttons &
those who are powerless in the face of
such tyrants.
and no matter how many people get
rounded up by the FBI, the CIA or any of
those on their knees worldwide, ready to
suck off the empire for quick cash & a
buddy-pat on the back,
there is a strength that emanates from within
the walls, from behind the bars &
which walks quietly in the shadows---
and it does so with the most acute &
unwavering sense of memory.
A Kid roamed free on the streets last week,
Doing mean and illegal acts,
He apparently robbed a corner store,
But nobody knows the facts.
He never bothered to go to school,
For the past – what – seven years?
Instead he smoked illegal drugs,
And drunk too many beers.
He looked like a fifteen-year-old,
And went by the name of Kyle.
He used to rob so many stores,
With GTA 5 style.
He was an orphan since he was 8,
And he went mentally mad,
Ever since he ran from council care,
He couldn’t help being bad.
He had nobody to look after him,
Because he had not a friend,
He never realised that in 2015,
He would meet his end.
A gang of bandits ran up to him,
And pinned Kyle to the ground.
They tied his hand behind his back,
And robbed his every last pound.
Then Jim, the nearby farmer,
Pointed his gun at Kyle’s big head,
He knew that in a moment’s time,
He was going to be dead.
Beads of sweat were rolling down
As tension built and built,
He wished that he was back at home,
Wrapped up in his warm quilt.
Then Jim pulled on the trigger,
BANG! Poor Kyle flew back.
And landed in the middle of
The farmer’s own haystack.
And yet he still was breathing,
He somehow had survived,
In the distance were some sirens –
The cops had just arrived.
He went to school the next morning
With not a cigar in sight,
He contributed in all the lessons,
And was rewarded for being bright.
He made some friends at lunchtime,
Because he had just learned,
Not to be mean or bad –
As now, the tables have turned.
Break my bones
Go ahead
They'll just turn to dust anyway
Call me names
If you dare
They're a reflection of your soul
But don't you dare
Say you care
Than come and abuse my heart
To love one completely
Means to build them up
Not demolish their inner being
So many times
You've built me up
Just to knock me down
You sat there smug
Laughing it up
While I remained in silence
But not no more
This is where it ends
No longer will I let you win
So poof be gone
Just disappear
You no longer have any power
From now on
I wear my crown
I make my life's decisions
It's me who'll decide
Who is dead or alive
It is I who holds the power
In your game
You've been defeated
By your expendable pawn
But if you look
You will clearly see
You never stood a chance
For when you play
With a crooked hand
One day you'll get called out
Than it will be you
Getting played
Like the joker, like the fool