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Maxim Keyfman Dec 2018
tea is like a candle on the table
and the table is like an oak hut

fireflies flash around me
outside the ice flying in the wings

Maxim Keyfman Nov 2018
blowing blowing heavy rain
blowing icy warm drops
blowing blowing heavy rain
this wind reveals its fan

my candle is on the world table
and she lost her color today
even she even the table even the kitchen
all lost color and flicker of fire

Hg Jul 2018
why Hg
why Mercury
why put on this disguise

do you fill
liquid metal
in the pens you use to write

don’t be absurd
that’d make my words
like poison to the eyes

however see
I do much leave
something in every line

something different
something secret
something I’ve tried to hide

something so
******* personal
if you asked me I’d lie

so what’s this thing
I try to bring
to everything I write

it’s me, Hg
it’s Mercury
the element of surprise
Shadow Dragon Apr 2018
The leftovers are laying on the plate,
it’s almost Half past eight.
The Fork and knife knightley laid,
on the tablecloth casting a shade.

On the plate there has been left a trace,
of the food from a chinese take out place.
Beneath the table a red stiletto heel,
that is probably all he can feel.

Slowly raising the glass of wine,
it’s a die and dine.
Glairying on the silver reflection,
how about he is shown a little affection.

The black hair in his eyes.
He is a human so centralized.
But once he loses focus on what is happening,
he will feel his whole life blackening.
I sat there
at the kitchen table,
a quiet man
watching my wife’s
inescapable haunches
taunting me
through the blue plume of smoke
that climbed out of the ashtray
and up the ladders of oxygen
reaching for the nicotine ceiling
as she cooked breakfast
on medium heat
the coffee spoons,
the back of cereal boxes,
the children engaging
in a colloquy of silly
subject matters,
the dog begging through
those sad puppy dog eyes,
utterly emancipated
from the helicopters
of pandemonium
as we sat around the table
while the jovial squirrels
played in the wilderness
of our backyard

I was in paradise alright
Vexren4000 Feb 2018
A notched piece of wood,
Part of a picnic table,
Sitting in the local park,
Names of forgotten loves,
Scrawled into the wood,
Graffiti from forlorn souls,
And immature children scrawled,
Insults and garbage,
A world of drawings and memories,
Sitting in the field,
Of a simple and sometimes forgotten park.

Like clockwork we would sit at the same table at 4am
Her, fresh of work. Me? Mind on 10
Crazy cause she was my best friend
Within a short year that came to an end
Allowing others around was more my thing than hers
My heart just held love more openly than hers would ever admit
I always find myself back at that IHOP table
Remembering every detailed conversation, every argument, every tear, every realization
I know it was real
I felt it
The world is selfish
& I learned the hard way that
good things don't last forever
Poem 5-- Relations
ShowYouLove Nov 2017
Gathered at table we pray and join hands
Giving thanks for another year of blessing
It took a while but I think I’m beginning to understand
That we share our bounty with needs far more pressing
We join as one family children one and all
To partake of the feast laid before
Lifting our voices, hear us as we call
Let us be in awe of what you have in store
Bread from Heaven, living sacrifice
Broken and shared for all mankind
Pleasing you is my soul’s delight
Year after year you continue to remind
Us the reason for our joy, and where our hope lies
That if we would only seek your face
And keep our sight fixed on the prize
We would be with you in the holy place
We give thanks with happy hearts for your goodness flows
We turn to you with much rejoicing
We offer up our gifts and joys and our struggles and woes
We lift them all up with our petitions voicing
Hear our pleas and bless the child
Grant strength, peace and gentle spirit
May the desires of our mind and heart be reconciled
May wisdom be upon all who hear it
Protect and guard and bless and keep
Throughout their life and every waking hour
Watch over them when they rise and go to sleep
Look with favor on this baby a precious little flower
If they should wander bring them back
If they should stumble guide their feet
Bless them, that in you, they will never lack
That in your abundance they would be replete
Once again we give you thanks and praise
Oh Lord, giver of all good things
Help us cherish and make the most of all our days
Let love abound as kindness sings
If you would
sit down at my table,
to be savouring
the feast of our little fable,
sharing the dishes
of dreams and of thoughts
seasoned with promises,
of both mine and of yours.
Story Oct 2017
under the table
where the wood shavings grow
where I eat my cold meals
on the cold cobbled stone
under the table
where the knowledge flows down
from callous-studded hands
to the human-shaped Noun
under the table
where no one can see
who carves the cabinets
who'd know that it's me
under the table
where the years pass me by
where I wait for that one day
the woodworker dies
the woodworker dies
the woodworker dies
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