For SFC
 

The Chair

There it sat, erect, towering
Lines clean, svelte…metallic.
A monstrosity of modern medicine,
Wrapped uncomfortably in brown leather.
It’s form uncompromisingly aligned with function.

It’s designed to be life-supporting;
With burly arms calculated
to keep occupants safely seated,
But succeeding only in being enormously confining.

There it sat, erect, menacing,
Its legs polished, gleaming, sterile.
Painfully wrapped in brown leather.
Form too closely following function.

Nubian ---

First of all, welcome back, we've missed you!

Secondly, that poem really strikes a chord in me. I live next door to a nursing home and have been a pet therapy volunteer in the Alzheimers' wing for many years, and the geri (geriatric) chairs there have always bothered me enormously. I began to hate them even more when my friend, who had Huntington's Disease, had to be confined to one... Mercifully she no longer has to deal with that or any of the other cruel restraints, as she passed away almost a year ago.

I suppose I should explain a little here, folks will be wondering why that poem was (so generously) dedicated to me... I challenged Nubian to try a poetry exercise that a poet friend of mine and I created. My friend had written a number of poems using chair imagery over a period of several years, and as I dug through them I began to see subtle changes in how he used the image and recognized that they revealed a great deal about his mindset at each point. We decided to challenge the students in his class (he's an English teacher) to write their own chair poems, and were stunned by the variety in the responses. I don't know what it is about the particular image, except that it's something everyone can relate to. Anyway, I challenged Nubian to write a chair poem as well, and now I'll share mine as well in return......... I'd love to see what the other Pixies' poets would come up with based on this little exercise --- if anyone wants to try I'll happily send the instructions...

the chair poem

velvet
enfolds
her

wraps her in
c i n n a m o n
softness
creamy
quiet
comfort

she
f l o a t s
in its
embrace

a fetal
curl
in
heirloom
tradition

family

compassionate

g r a c e

A Chair Poem

Smelling of powder and time
Revealing the impressions it has received

pattern and style of a long gone era,
gently curved, wide open arms,
sturdy, broad seat, lumpy from use,
a haven for those in need of respite,

Reminding me of the grandmother who once rested there.


Corny>>>>> an early morning attempt.......must go now 'verklempt' missing grandma...... fun SFC thanks!

...at sfc's request...
 

I was just chatting with sfc in the PixiesPlace channel of the chatroom and she pointed this thread out to me after I mentioned that I write poetry. So, at her request to see some of my work, I'm going to post a piece...here goes nothing...

XXII.
Walking in the space
Between Heaven and Hell
Left by the form
Of a stolen God.

The world is hollow
We sucked it dry
Withered husk
Between life and death
Rotting in stagnation.

We are all dead
Life cannot come
From a barren womb
We threw our souls on the fire
As we watched our mother burn
For fun and profit.

All was created
With the passion of a single mind
Yet still we throw away passion
For the illusion of temporal power
We gave to much
For absolutely nothing,
No trade backs.

FADE

Twilight time
Long slow fade to black
Velvet curtains running down,
Funeral shroud embracing the players
Faces locked in a tableau of anguish and horror.

You can feel it,
Sub-sonic hum
The apocalypse riff
Humming in the dead air
The drone of flies
Feeding on the corpses
Shuffling through the sad final acts
Of their death scene.

Still the tragedy marches on,
The mummers dance
In their three-piece suits
Hoping their gilded god
Can hold back the doom,
They simply feed the beast.

We?re burning out
Like a cigarette discarded
Each breath we take
Consumes a little more
Until there is nothing left
Save smoke on the wind
Wiped away
As night falls over our graves.

XXIII.
9:30 on a Friday evening
Cool breeze
Setting sun defining the skyline
Making the glass towers burn
In bright flashes of silver and gold.

I watch the people
A couple hundred lives
Weaving in and out among each other,
A most complex dance
With steps as simple
As eating or talking.

Couples walk hand in hand,
Children run in and out
Between the tables in a little cafe
While their parents talk and laugh
Over cups of after dinner coffee.

So much can be learned
By watching how someone eats, or laughs,
Or draws a lover close,
Or plays with a child.
The deepest secrets of life
Are revealed everyday
Described in the subtle gestures
Of living.

I often wonder
If God watches us
From the patio
Of some celestial coffee house
Enjoying the play He wrote.
Does He know the ending ?
Does He enjoy the dance
For knowing the steps ?

I have often thought
That we were created
So that God could learn
What it?s like to be human
He knows what it is to be God,
It?s easy to know yourself
But it is impossible to explain
Being Human.

XXVIII.
lying
still
no motion
melting down through
the floor...drip, drip, drip
liquid flow
technicolour
flying
space
going three dimensional
(then a fourth, then a fifth)
mind slide
fusion
screaming bloody winged ANGELS
tear away the flesh
e x t e n d i n g
into, through, beyond
encompass it all
BURNING
moment forever
spinning
down, up
rushing, speeding
broken
shards of mirror
through
out
?it?s so pretty beyond...?
beyond what ?

TORONTO

The city sleeps
Rumbling concrete beast
Alive in slumber
Shimmering, shifting
Dreaming beneath our feet.

You know it?s alive,
You can feel it?s pulse
Humming in the highwires,
You can feel its monstrous breath
While waiting for the subway.
That presence you feel
Alone on the street at night
Is the city walking with you.

On its back we crawl
Symbiotic, for we feed it
As much as it feeds us,
It moves with us
Follows us into the clubs,
Sleeps with us at night in our beds.

Unseperable
One entity
City and man
Moving, growing, dreaming
Together
Alive in everyone
It?s not where you live,
It?s who you are.

WINTER

Clear winters day
White flesh, white snow
Dreaming of becoming
A ray of light
Floating high over twig fingers
The wind blowing through me
Gleaming and pure.

And I can?t remember
The days of wine and roses
Anymore
They were lost
When I took a walk in my life,
Now I?m left with an empty bottle,
A handful of withered petals
And the faded memory
Of her body drawn
In the darkness.

Once,
I wrote every line
Of her perfect body
Once,
I breathed her form
In perfect detail
Once,
Every beat of her heart
Sounded within my breast.

But now she is gone
I looked away for a second,
I can?t even recall
What for
When I turned back
The winter snows
Had settled behind her eyes
So little time.

So now I stand
In the middle of unending winter
Wishing to be light
In the darkness,
Wishing to be fire
In the cold
But being neither,
I give all I have left
To regain spring.

And below
Blood roses
Bloom on the white breast
Of Winter.

Hopefully the division between each piece is clear...I hope you all out there like them...these are the peices that I am particularly pleased with...

His tongue darting
Lilith’s cry
Stabs the darkness

Lost
in the nape of your neck
the curve of your hip
breathing deeply your scent

taken to new heights
that familiar tingling

you stop
I whimper
back arching
intense longing
basinc need
complete submission

I am yours now

Speak to me
I am your now
tell me what your heart wants

Oh Nubian~*blushing profusely* TY

music playing
candles lit
drinks served

happy words
fingers touching
smiles shared

sumtuous dinner
comfortable silence
no need for words

beautiful thoughts
gentle caresses
soft kisses

hands wandering
mouths searching
limbs entwined

Love shared

She lies in nights arms sleeping
sweet esence spilling forth
I lie here enjoying
the taste of her vision is ecstacy
Still excited to be near her
I close my eyes
and enter her world

Sadora & Twisted~ wonderful images.....the poems feel so much more personal when we know both the writer and the muse:)

Absolutely wonderful! What a bunch of truly talented people (as if there was any doubt)!

I love poetry and will try to get one written. In the mean time, I'll re-read some of these. :D

Its late and this isnt my best, but I felt the need to write and thought I'd share. Have you ever felt so lost, unhappy where you are, and would rather be somewhere other than here, just anywhere?

Thats how I find myself feeling lately, so I put myself where I want to be. If you havent picked up from my other posts, I have a fascination with eyes. This was written while picturing someones eyes..someone I consider a friend.

Theres a special way that I read this to myself..i think it makes it better. Read the 1st line with a slightly higher pitch than the second, and alternate back and forth. It gives a feeling of being on the ocean..to me.

Power in the Eyes
I look into your eyes,
and see the ocean so blue,
Together on a boat
in waves so few.

The gentle winds
blowing through your hair,
The sun shining down
on our skin so bare.

The aroma of your body
the sweetness of your smile,
your beautiful lips
takes me away for awhile.

I caress your face
so tender with care,
as our eyes lock
a long awaited stare.

My breath cuts short,
my heart...skips a beat,
with you at my side
I am finally complete.

I feel so peaceful
lost in your mind,
I dream of the day
of a love so fine.

Wrapped tightly in comfort and trust
The sweet rythmic beat lulls me
Warmth like velvet
Breath on my neck
contintment
I wake smiling

I am absolutely constantly amazed by the talent on this site. Everyone here writes so well and expresses themselves so powerfully! I want to apologize for not responding individually, as each of the poems above deserves, but things here have been very hectic. Still, I want to tell each of the authors above how touched I was by their poetry.

*** Huge applause ***

--- sweetstuff

p.s. I just realized, in re-reading this thread, that I haven't posted my own latest poem. Here goes:

afterglow

peace
together
after passion
sprawling warmly
into one another
my ear to your heartbeat
your hand heating
the naked intimacy
of the small of my back
legs and feet
a happy jumble
and the rise and fall
of your chest
floats me along
the contented
curve
of your gentle
smile
into fulfilment
and sleep
and life