In the forest.
A bench is a spot to hang out.
No one judges you.
Riding by on bikes.
There’s no better spot to be relaxed.
There’s plenty of shade.
Backpack seated next to you.
Tipping over but not falling.
A bit of pollen on this bench.
Something green growing but seems not poisonous.
In the forest.
A bench is a spot to sleep.
When you should have hiked back an hour ago…
An owl calls out nearby.
Reminding you to head home.
Someone placed a purple wildflower on your backpack.
Cradling it in your hands.
In the forest.
A bench is respite.
No one judges you.
Not even that owl.
In the city, there are benches
Placed where people might
Relax and take a load off,
Which is everybody’s right.
They’re either made of metal
Or old-fashioned painted wood,
Found in parks and promenades or where
They’d do the utmost good.
Most bus stops with a shelter
Have a bench for those who wait
And in playgrounds, there are benches
Where the nannies congregate.
My apartment building spans a block
On quite an average street,
Without a bus stop or a park;
It’s nice, but not elite.
Yet recently, a metal bench,
Three seats’ worth, with a back,
Was placed to give my home address
What other buildings lack –
A place to sit, but no one knows
Who ordered such a thing.
It sounds real good, but there are several
Problems it could bring –
The detritus of strangers,
Which is quite a common sight
And perhaps some noisy revelers
To party through the night.
My street is pretty quiet
And I hope a monkey wrench
Hasn’t landed on it with the
Sudden placement of this bench.
a park calm and hushed
autumn's crisp welcomed reprieve
cool shade for the lark
summer's cruel oppression lifts
an elm shrouded bench composed
I slowly make my way,
eyeing the perfect place to perch—
the bench sitting in the full sun,
caressing my face with its rays.
I’m drawn to the light
and shy away from the shade.
It gives me a reason to be alive
as I watch the children run around.
So many years spent at the park;
now I am here with my greats,
wishing it was you.
Little bubbles of joy surface
as I smile into those little eyes,
handing a drink box and a hug.
Thankful for the grays in my hair—
a reminder that many do not see—
I reflect on the years gone by.
I do feel some pang of regrets
as the list grows longer,
beads of sweat slowly drip,
mixing with the tears that I try to hide.
I made it here to the golden years
with a big hole in my heart—
a heart that now embraces
the two tiny humans sitting on my knees,
one wanting me to kiss her bobo better.
She jumps down, ready to go play,
and says, Watch me as I swing to the sky.
I let out a little sigh,
as I know you are watching from the sky.
Dedicated to my precious daughter.
While I hold my great-niece and great-nephew close,
I still hold you closer in my heart.
Do you remember it …
That one late spring day,
Solemn, where two could sit
A place nearby, but far away
It must be there still …
All around was dense with green
A steep hill, a small hill …
A footbridge in-between
Leading down into the nook
A place both shaded and quiet,
And the bench by the brook
Sat there waiting by it …
Along the floor of the wood
A robin passed by as I recall,
How I still wish that I could
Come back here next fall.
picnicking twosome
white butterfly flits across ~
pigeons coo nearby
roughhousing children
rustling trees in the distance ~
woman walking dog
Wooden Bench
I set up acting and
singing work for the
wooden bench in
the rock garden.
I’m his biggest
fan. I get 100% of
his earnings.
Bench
———
I hiked a trail, fresh
unharmed by the steps of man
and found a bench, fresh
unharmed by weather or man.
Why here, for what purpose,
the bench sat in no direction
to understand the why, the purpose
trying to determine the story, the direction.
So I sat on the bench
making a point to view
in all directions the bench
offered, to understand my own view.
While sitting I began to relax
maybe that was the reason
to take some time and just relax
do I really need another reason?
I’ll SIT UNDER THIS TREE HOPING SOMEONE MIGHT STOP AND TALK TO ME
I’M TIRED OF BEING ALONE AND IT’S OH SO LONESOME AT HOME
MAYBE THEY MIGHT CARE AND HAVE A LITTLE TIME TO SHARE
WE COULD GO SIT DOWN IF WE COULD FIND A SEAT SOMEWHERE
I THINK I’LL BUILD A BENCH WHERE WE CAN SIT AND SHOOT THE BREEZE
TALK ABOUT WORLD PROBLEMS AND OUR SORE BACK AND KNEES
WE CAN TELL STORIES AND FIBS EMBELISHING THE PAST
DRAG OUT EVERY WORD TO MAKE EACH SHORT STORY LAST
IF YOU GOT NOWHERE TO GO AND NO PLACE TO BE
COME SIT ON MY BENCH THERE’S ROOM NEXT TO ME
I BUILT MY BENCH SO ANYONE CAN FIT
IT’S THE PERFECT PLACE TO REST AND SIT
RELAX A WHILE TAKE A LOAD OFF YOUR FEET AND MIND
ENJOY THE SOLACE THAT’S WAITING HERE TO FIND
IF YOUR LEGS ARE GETTING TOO TIRED WHEN YOU WALK
HEAD BACK TO MY BENCH TO SIT SOME MORE AND TALK
THIS BENCH WILL LAST FOREVER I BUILT IT OUT OF STONE
IT WAS MADE TO BE SHARED NOT JUST SAT ON ALONE
Open sky,
sitting on a park bench with one arm curved behind a person;
teething smiles shyly undressing my emotional puristic like Adam re-unclothing in
Eden.
Whatsoever is losed of my ascetic,
may it free our eyes to tresspass into our hearts and breakthrough the binders.
Open sky,
like a shaded orange thingy,
serendipity might bring your meaning by a large dream of two days' worth of sleep
after I crept into your eyes and lost something I can't really tell of;
I think it was unshelved, a piece of my bestselling self; consequence: lost.
Obsequies: died for love, the form of death that kills the greed of my homesickness;
consequence: no return.
Open sky,
clear,
yet the sun will soon say goodbye.
Like good friends we watch his actual goodbying but not without the christening of
our love pudding:
sweet child in arm, the sweetest charm we ever cast...
Yours for all time,
burnt the bridge behind and it's a good thing I can't swim,
good thing, but if I could,
I'd swim in your own pull.
In debate a gallop called Gish
Scored points like a basketball's swish
That Joe could not block!
So now taking stock
Biden's sideline walk is our wish
DT's sick slick lies and his bunk
Were passed past the player who stunk
Since Donald can trick
Let's set a quick pick
For a super sub who can dunk
As I sat looking forward for hours
That I will prefer spent in indifference,
Thinking of future that can be ours
As I hurt drowning, engulfed in silence
Amid the noise of commercial sphere,
With a little to move on to nowhere
I displayed you in my mind,
A pretty countenance that is not here
A melodic form that is just over there
A night's white petal that I wish to find
Beaming inside my frail arms
Professing love that I haven't known
And I in the depth of her charms
Peace to me would be finally shown.
So I dream tenderly with open eyes;
A sigh let out in sorrow
For a dream that in reality dies
Again, I will need to borrow
Another dead time tomorrow.
Dec. 7, 2023
An empty bench is never homeless~
as it shelters golden prints
of amethyst heartbeats,
engraved as souvenirs,
for whatever tomorrow's
dawn may bestow.
Find me a wood carver said the queen.
I want an owl bench with a walnut sheen.
Do not let him use wood that is old or green.
I want an owl bench today, said the greedy queen.
sitting 'pon park bench
deep in thought and so alone
joined by a lady who sits
bradford pears' petals
softly fall around like snow
upon their laps and joined hands
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