By: V. Mahfood

You sat still upon the silver sands that carpeted the beach,
And gloried in the maddened breeze that lashed against your chest.
The tangy air was kissing you; if only it was I,
While the waters curled around your feet in streams of bright sapphire.

Hidden by the emerald palms
I saw sorrow capture your eyes,
That gazed at the world without real sight,
That held pain and knowledge far inside.

And as I looked, magic gripped me with its unrelenting hands,
I revealed myself so I could come to you.
And seeing you weren't alone flashed within and woke your mind,
I waited cloaked in terror, afraid to look into your eyes.

I remember walking slowly on through plains of soft, white snow.
And exploding lights around me painting pictures, sketching time.
Yet reaching for you always across continents of space,
Till panic lent me wings and I whirled swiftly to your side.

On arrival, I was mute so I sank numbly to the sand,
Yet you raised my head so I could see the meaning in your eyes.
And such sweet feeling flooded me, I saw you understood...
You had waited and yearned for me, I never dreamed you would.

V. Mahfood
Coffee Table Poetry



Daily Quote: "One has to abandon altogether the search for security, and reach out to the risk of living with both arms. One has to court doubt and darkness as the cost of knowing."
-- Morris L. West


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Coffee Table Poetry's GUEST BOOK is a division of Coffee Table Poetry for Tea Drinkers, and is updated often. The easiest way to enjoy the selections from talented fellow poets is to select E-mail or RSS Reader. Also, come follow us on Twitter and Facebook.Poets and Advertisers-please contact us to post your press releases, new book info, graphics and more at: coffeetablepoet@gmail.com


Posted by V. Mahfood - 2010
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By: Fergus Carty

What are these things we call memories?
Past fact or present expectations?
Was it the really Nerys that caught my eye?
Or the sparkle of the alter-Kira?
The picture shifts as easily as Odo
So what is it we think we know?

A child tires of it’s drawing of a house
And turns a page and starts again,
As regularly as the tide cleans the beach
For the stick’s fresh pictographs.
The wrong shapes floating in the sky?
Will pass off-screen soon enough.

Electric impulses flash across
The surface of brain and through its canyons.
Chemicals change molecular switches
And stimuli are physically stored,
Even unconsciously. From these minutiae,
We retrieve our building blocks of memory.

In the delta of braided channels
Of another year that’s run its course
How accurate is the chart in hand?
How were the fathoms plumbed?
Is this the view of a year 2010?
Or Version #2010 of some other year?




Fergus Carty


Daily Quote: You can't let praise or criticism get to you.
It's a weakness to get caught up in either one.
- John Wooden


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Coffee Table Poetry's GUEST BOOK is a division of Coffee Table Poetry for Tea Drinkers, and is updated often. The easiest way to enjoy the selections from talented fellow poets is to select E-mail or RSS Reader. Also, come follow us on Twitter and Facebook.Poets and Advertisers-please contact us to post your press releases, new book info, graphics and more at: coffeetablepoet@gmail.com

Posted by V. Mahfood - 2010
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By: R. J. Denzel



early morning rise
stepping outside
gather up the paper
glancing up
at the sky

not a cloud
to cover
the star studded
night
someone had mixed
a bucket of
sparkles and tossed
upward picturesque
against the black
ink of nothingness

like twinkling
christmas lights
some bright
others not
quite beautiful
thousands to see

what did the ancient ones
wonder as they sought
to reach and touch
beyond their grasp

always there
always changing
with the seasons
after all these
years still amazes
the beauty of nature


Raymond Denzel
R. Jacob Post


-Daily Quote: The greatest lovers are like twin blooms,
each reflecting the passion and the glory of the other.
- jlh

-Linguist Quote: piccolo: small / adjective.
- Example sentence: Questa valigia è troppo piccola, non avete qualcosa di più grande?
Translation: This suitcase is too small, don't you have something bigger?

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By: Marcus Lane


I fear the way you love me:
That tender-touching kiss
Seducing me to nightly
Sink deep in your abyss.

Those smooth caresses take me
To places that I dread,
Your cunning fingers rouse me
To plan such lies ahead.

So while we writhe and tumble
In lust's hypnotic hold,
I fear that final stumble
That sees the truth unfold.

Marcus Lane



"Man is free; yet we must not suppose that he is at liberty to do everything he pleases, for he becomes a slave the moment he allows his actions to be ruled by passion."
-Giacomo Casanova
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Coffee Table Poetry's GUEST BOOK is a division of Coffee Table Poetry for Tea Drinkers, and is updated often. The easiest way to enjoy the selections from talented fellow poets is to select E-mail or RSS Reader. Also, come follow us on Twitter. We look forward to sharing your own beautiful poetry with the world.

Posted by V. Mahfood - 2/10/10
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By: G. K. Bostic

 
Silence surrounds her,

Deafening silence.

No sound of a car, no garage door opening,

No little girl’s voice shattering silence,

With gleeful gab of school day fun,

No performance of Hannah Montana songs,

Simply stillness, deafening silence.

She sits, watching sand slide through the hour glass,

Hypnotized,

Mesmerized,

Lost in thoughts of global pain.



He was the Mars to her Venus,

She was a mother’s blessed fulfillment,

Gone.

Forever gone, taken by calamity,

Leaving her hypnotized,

paralyzed,

Immobilized

The only motion a single salty tear

Sliding into the silence.


G. K. Bostic - Jan. 2011


Daily Quote: "Imagine a hot tub for the mind. That is what meditation is; it can bathe your mind in relaxing thoughts."
-- Eknath Easwaran


Linguist Corner-SPANISH: embarazada/ adjective / pregnant

** Be careful not to use the word embarazada as a translation for embarrassed, or you probably will end up even more embarrassed than you were to begin with. If you want to say I’m embarrassed, you should use the phrase me da vergüenza, or me da pena in most of Latin America. Compare these examples.

- Estaba embarazada de cuatro meses.
She was four months pregnant.

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Coffee Table Poetry's GUEST BOOK is a division of Coffee Table Poetry for Tea Drinkers, and is updated often. The easiest way to enjoy the selections from talented fellow poets is to select E-mail or RSS Reader. Also, come follow us on Twitter and Facebook.Poets and Advertisers-please contact us to post your press releases, new book info, graphics and more at: coffeetablepoet@gmail.com

Posted by V. Mahfood - 2010
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By: Fergus Carty


Sand, sea and resentment. Resentment?
Or recognition?
Of a tide -
Now longer ebbing in its fleeing flow.

While in self exile here ashore,
Divine winds -
Play with the wild blue twins
Of surging sea and soaring sky.

The old Guinness surfer now,
Para-surfs -
Between these wrestling elements
To a backing track of Old Spice waves.

But here you are still sitting,
Brushing grains -
From your jeans and spitting grit and salt,
From silently cursing lips.

The receding surf mutters,
Over -
Half erased lines in the sand. A fancied childlike flourish?
Or just some childish scrawl?


Fergus Carty


Daily Quote: "When we are conscious of our personal uniqueness and our universal nature we express ourselves creatively. In this way we fulfill our dreams and our life purpose."
-- Andrew Schneider


Linguist Corner-SPANISH: mirada, noun / look
La mirada is the noun from mirar, and means a look.
- una mirada triste
a sad look

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Coffee Table Poetry's GUEST BOOK is a division of Coffee Table Poetry for Tea Drinkers, and is updated often. The easiest way to enjoy the selections from talented fellow poets is to select E-mail or RSS Reader. Also, come follow us on Twitter and Facebook.Poets and Advertisers-please contact us to post your press releases, new book info, graphics and more at: coffeetablepoet@gmail.com


Posted by V. Mahfood - 2010
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By: Gene Bedley

The logical future gets entangled in a peninsula
of turmoil and discontent;
the willed future builds an island of peace and harmony.

The logical future operates from past principles and perspectives;
the willed future is fueled by possibilities and passion.

The logical future protects your pension, perch, and position;
the willed future protects the person, progress, and principles.

The logical future makes me a product of my circumstances;
the willed future supersedes my circumstances.

The logical future makes excuses for poor performance;
the willed future sees mistakes as one of life’s greatest teachers.

The logical future expresses emotions from the pantry of our heads;
the willed future expresses emotions from the shelves of our heart.

The logical future writes certain people off;
the willed future invites diverse and unique perspectives.

The logical future becomes trapped in the storms of daily surprises;
the willed future anticipates and forecasts future events.

The logical future spends energy and emotions
exclusively on the present;
the willed future invests enormous time and energy on the future.

©1992 Gene Bedley
Gene Bedley Poems




"Once I knew only darkness and stillness... my life was without past or future... but a little word from the fingers of another fell into my hand that clutched at emptiness, and my heart leaped to the rapture of living."
~Helen Keller


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Coffee Table Poetry's GUEST BOOK is a division of Coffee Table Poetry for Tea Drinkers, and is updated often. The easiest way to enjoy the selections from talented fellow poets is to select E-mail or RSS Reader. Also, come follow us on Twitter. We look forward to sharing your own beautiful poetry with the world.
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By: Fergus Carty



Not at a lake of dreamy fantasy, feet sunk in rough sand of reality.
Weathered steps of time replaced wood, rise up loosely above this winter flood.
White Lake beyond the hills or vision, holds itself across a phase division.
I am alone in part and by wind cut, stood in the chill emptiness of “The Cut”

One foot, two feet, a pace, each unsteady, numbly guide me onward so unready.
Girded about with Oisin’s saddle strap, too late, too late here now to remember.
Trapped in a nightmare of my making, the earth in my shoes is no remedy.
Cold dark Derravaragh far off yonder, now listening for Fionnuala’s whisper,

Ancient pilgrim swans in circling flight, transformed to crystal rose-bowl light.
Watching just moth-like the fading flicker, without hope entranced and bitter.
Standing cold and grey gathering my might, the pier runs on out as if to take flight.
I cannot cast this stone in the water, shattered dreams the surface to litter.

Fergus Carty



"Love is the child of illusion and the parent of disillusion".
~Miguel de Unamuno


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Coffee Table Poetry's GUEST BOOK is a division of Coffee Table Poetry for Tea Drinkers, and is updated often. The easiest way to enjoy the selections from talented fellow poets is to select E-mail or RSS Reader. Also, come follow us on Twitter. We look forward to sharing your own beautiful poetry with the world.
Posted by V. Mahfood - 2/23/10

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