Where do old tables go?

Have you ever wandered where old tables go?
The one you use every day thrown in the yard
That office desk that support your work
Take all your coffee stains; never tidied up
That bedside table supporting a lamp
Alarm clocks; dirty socks; magazines of hard knocks
Coffee table piled with toys; last nights takeout
That patio table; plastic all melted; chilli stained
All there tireless work un-rewarded; discarded
In the middle of the night they can be seen
Packing their bags; fleeing tragic scene
All migrating through airports cargo holds
Even in a container, if paying a retainer
Some importer are being done for ticket tout in
They end up on a graveyard on ‘Tabletop Mountain’

©Phil Golding

really enjoyed reading this.

I like the lateral approach.

It resonates with me, yes where do they go?

I mean, it reminds me of lonely hearts (i.e Where do lonely hearts go? - song)

so I think Philip may I thank you for inspiring me for a new poem

I may call it 'white goods' in connection with washing machines and the like, Imagine if like the table we ascribe human emotions to them.

Thanks for something a little different.
I would like to hear this performed.

Please write some more!

How about we do a quartet of poems of objects with human emotion attached or say anamorphasised? spelling?

Peter

Thank you for your compliments. Very encouraging

I am up for that quartet.

I have written about a cup of tea??

drop me an email

thanks

Ok Phil, ill do washing machine and white goods, may put a car in it too, often people have pet names for cars so could reach a lot with that one.


so ill do 2, you do 2. The pete n phil quartet.

Hi Pete

I am onto it started one on wood in the household, i have a working title - THE LAST LATH IS ON YOU

I am also working on one about lorries and poets

again working title - THE POET LORRY ATE


what do you think

regards

Phil