The Last Supper (Four Courses)
Warning! (Ha!) Four draft poems below for Corey Rowley’s (Herotomost’s) prompt on With Real Toads to write about a last supper. Please feel free to read one or more! Thanks!
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Last Supper
We no more will be eating
when we slip into that night.
No, then we will be feeding
those still fueled by light–
the grass that curls,
the grubs that pearl,
whatever sups on ash–
We’ll take them where they might be bound
until their past too seeds the ground
and together there we’ll lime the corn,
not waiting for what next is born;
for we’ll know not wait nor want alike,
when we are eaten by that night.
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The Last Supper
Before the restoration
the fresco barely lingered on the wall
like the last taste of broth
in a bowl,
its drawing as fine
as the shadow of hair stranded
along a temple,
worn by that water
that walks everywhere on air
for years and years and
years–
a wear that wore the pigment
to aura, washed it with
such seeming beatitude, that we never even thought
of how people truly sit
around tables, or of a man working with
wet plaster, egg, the glue
of a rabbit skin, his own
bread, wine–
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No More Roving of a Sort (After George Gordon, Lord Byron)
So, we’ll no more go out eating
so late into the night
though the heart be still as hungry
and the street lights still as bright.
For a child at home’s asleeping–
at least we’ve put her thrice to crib–
and she’s now too big for squeezing
‘twixt the table and our ribs.
So, tho’ waiters’ feet be fleeting
as they promise service soon
we’ll no more go out eating,
beneath the bistro’d moon.
******************************************
Last Supper
He stopped eating several months
before death
as if his mouth could only manage
breath.
“But you love tomato soup–”
“Don’t tell me that egg’s
not soft enough–”
“Come on, it’s getting
cold–”
Sometimes his chin would swell
with the tight clamp of lips,
skin shiny as its own lamp,
as if, like a kid, he wouldn’t,
when he couldn’t–
for the person inside
wanted to live, certainly,
not so much for himself,
as for the one re-heating
the soup.
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Special thanks to all who got to the bottom of this post! The painting is by Leonardo da Vinci, a fresco of the last supper–this pic, pre-restoration; no copyright intended of photograph whose source is unknown to me. k.
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: boy that guy could really paint poem, Byronic poems, couldn't swallow at the end poem, Da Vinci last supper poem, Last Supper poems, manicddaily, We'll no more go a roving changed to eating poem
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ManicDDaily 
August 29, 2015 at 8:27 am
Love these k — special poems.
News here is that I’ve found a house! Fingers crossed x
August 29, 2015 at 8:39 am
Thanks so very much. Many congratulations! k.
August 29, 2015 at 9:07 am
and together there we’ll lime the corn…
This doesn’t sound too bad – to remain part of the cycle of this beloved earth.
Such an enjoyable multi-view of the topic. I especially applaud your contemplation of Da Vinci’s Last Supper. It is awe-inspiring.
August 29, 2015 at 10:27 am
It feels really good to see that someone took to the prompt so completely that they wrote four pieces….lol. After reading all four several times, I can’t pick a favorite because the are all so different in style and substance. I find the last one rings so true, the dying often try to live for the living and not themselves…sad by true and what a great portrayal of that in your words. I really loved the third one “in the style Gordon and Byron” because it did just have that feel. the other reason is I say that to myself all the time after a gluttonous weekend and it does wear off by the time the next weekend rolls around…lol. the second one was a great accompinament to the painting in my mind, it had the feel of the Fresco and the bit of mystery that seems to be part of the fabric of the scene. the first one had the best physiology of all of them. It had a lightness that tipped and tripped along and a smear of rhyme that really lifted the spirit, I cannot believe you got 4 such quality poems out of my food prompt….you are wonderful and so full of life, I love it.
August 29, 2015 at 11:16 am
Thanks so much, Corey, for responding so thoughtfully to each poem! Obviously, I enjoyed the prompt–I thought about my own last meal–but it was perhaps a bit too personal for me to get into! Thanks again. k.
On Sat, Aug 29, 2015 at 11:27 AM, ManicDDaily wrote:
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August 29, 2015 at 11:25 am
On a better day I would have gotten to the bottom…I’m dizzy and can’t keep lines straight. I enjoyed your first poem though, K. Thank you, for visiting me. 🙂
August 29, 2015 at 11:52 am
You have gracefully worked these patterns cut from the human condition, from comedy to tragedy, from love, bustle and loneliness, life and growth and dwindling into death, and made them a whole tapestry woven with subtle, glowing words that give both color and form. I liked them all–the first one, which seems so formal and yet is completely modern, the second, which is almost ethereal yet penetrating and grounded as well, the light but truthful third course and the last, which cuts to the most private sort of inner realization that we can have–all done with clarity, compassion and a reasonable amount of dignity–and there is a not a lot of dignity in the human condition except what we can bring. Reading them in sequence is a much more intricate and rich experience too, I think, than taking them separately–an enhancement. Pretty good job for a woman ‘…working with
wet plaster, egg, the glue
of a rabbit skin, [her] own
bread, wine..’
August 29, 2015 at 9:12 pm
Ha. Thanks so much for your super kind comment. k.
On Sat, Aug 29, 2015 at 12:52 PM, ManicDDaily wrote:
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August 29, 2015 at 2:25 pm
Made it to the end of your post … for me, you saved the best for last!
August 29, 2015 at 2:26 pm
I especially liked the last two, Karin……the closing one captures how the dying simply cannot eat any more, much as their caregivers want them to “keep up their strength”.
August 29, 2015 at 4:09 pm
What a marvelous way to cover the aspects of the last supper. The last one when a person seem to live on air talked to me especially strong. Somehow the earlier poems seemed to build up to that crescendo of reality.
August 29, 2015 at 6:36 pm
The first is my favorite, and the third cracked me up!
August 30, 2015 at 9:55 am
Wow, Karin. These are inspired! I love the first most especially, but also I covet these lines from the second:
its drawing as fine
as the shadow of hair stranded
along a temple,
Tremendous.
August 30, 2015 at 7:13 pm
Thanks so much, Marian. k.
On Sun, Aug 30, 2015 at 10:56 AM, ManicDDaily wrote:
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August 31, 2015 at 1:59 pm
Glad I read to bottom and savored all four courses, K!
August 31, 2015 at 6:33 pm
Karin,
A wonderful excursion through these four pieces. You’ve covered all the stages and ages…and I especially like your delicate reflection on ‘the mural…’ Fine writing!
Steve K.
August 31, 2015 at 6:41 pm
Thanks so much, Steve. They are rather random, but your kind comment is much appreciated. k.
On Mon, Aug 31, 2015 at 7:33 PM, ManicDDaily wrote:
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September 1, 2015 at 6:26 am
I read this yesterday and could not get through the school filter to appreciate it. Ha. Nice blend of emotions through these. The last one is the one that tugged on me. Particularly the wanting to live for the other
September 6, 2015 at 10:28 pm
all are exquisite. i point directly to the 2nd pen, 1st verse – what a fine metaphor. And the 4th, the empathy, again, deftly (though I’ve used that description elsewhere today) ~