Best Chairs Poems
I came upon two empty chairs atop a hillside green
They beckoned me to pause and think upon this verdant scene
Their canvas stripes of blue and white adorned a wooden frame
They rested sweetly side by side while calling me by name
I wondered who had brought them there, wherever did they go
And would it be ok for me to sit, I didn’t know
But then a gentle breeze began to guide me sure and true
And from my seat, I saw the world, yet from another’s view
Amazed to gaze upon the earth yet see it differently
Familiar in its landmarked bounds but not the same for me
Forever now to understand before one places blame
That from another’s chair, the view is not always the same
I found myself sitting in a circle of chairs,
With people about me, some saying their prayers.
For family and friends who’d completed life’s stay,
To continue the journey, on their spiritual way.
The people around me weren’t gloomy or grim.
As they talked of their loved ones, they all seemed to grin.
They joked of the times they had shared here on earth,
And spoke of the things they’d achieved since their birth.
I settled my mind and relaxed, don’t you see,
I was here to help others, and not just for me.
While drifting, not thinking, and floating around,
I felt that my being was raised from the ground.
Then slowly and calmly the thoughts flooded in,
And words started filling my head, just for him.
I knew that these memories were his, not for me,
Of a beautiful woman in that misty sea.
I asked him if he could remember the time,
When we met at a bus stop, both waiting in line.
Then, as fate would have it, we caught the same bus,
And from that day onward, we both became ‘us’.
His face started beaming, the love shone out clear,
I think that he knew then, ‘that death had no fear’.
He choked as he answered and tears flowed quite free,
And said, “Yes I do love”, not speaking to me.
This story is one from so many I hold,
I could tell you lots more about other good souls.
Just remember when heartache will not set you free,
That friends are reborn, it’s just that we don’t see.
The spirit within us must travel its way,
It comes to the ‘earth plain’, to grow, love and play.
And when time is destined, must then make its way.
To the place where we’ll all meet one wonderful day.
Ivor G Davies
There is only one thing that you can control in this world
As It's to whom that we sing that our soul will be unfurled
You are completely powerless over all that you do control
But it will really become a mess the day you lose your soul
Just a heartbeat away standing on the other side of the door
Lord teach us to pray so that this fact we will no longer ignore
Just like a musical chair one day your song will no longer play
Becoming completely aware of exactly where you chose to lay
In just a second or even less everything could be taken away
It's only the Lord who does bless don't take lightly what I say
Even written down for all to see as the endless clues abound
What you couldn't afford, given free, oh how sweet the sound
The only thing that you can control that nothing can take away
Is who you're praising in your soul each morning, night and day
Now that music is playing but we all know that its going to end
On my mind it's been weighing and this message I had to send
John 16:33
I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace.
In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart;
I have overcome the world.”
A deluded and deranged miscreant.
Rode in a rented Ryder truck,
Sadistically opposed to his government,
He delivered a two-ton bomb.
After parking the fateful vehicle,
With time fleeting and fuses lit,
He fled to his car,
Parked, not far away.
Hearing the explosion, he made his escape,
With a gleam in his eye.
One hundred sixty-eight victims died,
Leaving countless loved ones behind.
April 19, 1995,
A date that lives in infamy.
The guilty one was caught that very day,
And eventually paid his life for the reprehensible deed.
The Oklahoma Ctiy National Memorial
Now graces the ground
Where the Alfred P. Murrah
Building once stood.
A lone American Elm tree
Survived the blast,
A symbol of resilience,
And the will of mankind.
Hopes of closure for the victim’s families
Followed the perpetrator’s death six years later.
But closure will not fill the empty chairs
Left in the footprint of the building.
There is a sadness that can not be spoken of.
And there is a pain that goes on and on.
There are empty chairs at empty tables,
For my friends are dead and gone.
It was here they talked of a revolution,
It was here that they lit the flame.
It was here they talked about tomorrow,
But tomorrow never came.
From that table in the far corner,
They could see a world reborn.
And they rose with their voices ringing,
I think I can hear them now.
The very words that they had said,
Are echoing,
Before the dawn.
Oh my friends, my friends forgive me.
That I live and you’re all gone.
There is a sadness that can not be spoken of.
And there is a pain that goes on and on.
Ghostly faces at that window.
Phantom shadows on that floor.
Empty chairs at empty tables,
Where my friends shall meet no more.
Oh my friends, please ask of me,
To avenge your sacrifice.
For empty chairs at empty tables,
Give me enough reason for war.
HE BANNED CHAIRS
Looks like we will sit on the floor.
There is a new leader with a big boat to flaunt.
When we move outside there are crosses along the road.
Scare tactic.
He’s loaded with guns and an atomic twister.
Everyone will be off guard when he imitates nature.
That’s how we got the last flood.
He has come to kill us all.
This is a pretty lively waiting room.
Deflate his ego and you will get shot.
Then you only have two options
be quiet or loud.
Faith over reason
Bring guns and a reason to smile
the situation is going to get messy.
Don’t ask or tell
I will
He placed people
In a box
Politics are a control ritual, good
for confusing the public.
It’s not about bloodshed. Business
men use violence because it’s visual.
Round and round and round we all go
Musical notes defining destiny
Who shall we love?
Who lives and who shall die
Whimsical chords linger softly
As we sing our way along in life
The notes of the universe sing true
The music lives through out all time
Tears fall from my face
Onto musical notes in black
The ink becomes smeared and blurry
Emotions kill the waltz of life
Dance of the Knights, bring me to somber moods
Love and death I know shall embrace
The conductor for this is assured
As round and round we all go
On and on, we dance and twirl
Infinity entwined within our musical scores
Musical sheets, explain lust filled nights
Yet the notes fall flat, upon the floor
The serenade has come to an end
The theorist is laid to rest
Love has died, and thus the musical silence
Wagner told you so
A snail crosses
along a razor's edge,
from it's past, complete.
To it's futures, separate.
And just before it's twin selves
slide down the opposite sides
of a steely wall
it's last thought
captures the totality
of it's trek.
The atom in the
quantum corral,
a mirage of the discrete,
or a sum total of all?
Deck chairs and boats
in a Duchampion universe.
How would our own years
be viewed,
ninety degrees
from the razor's edge?
Your face contorts in a twisted effort
Plaintive in non-decorous reverberation
A terrain around a pair of distant orbs
Lost in extemporaneous consternation
To ward off the fear of unwanted evanescence
Upon the wanton revelation
Of a day you wish had never existed
Tremors beset a set of fingers
While the mind steadies the hand that lights
A random electric cigarette to calm the nerves
That being the fact of how you face facts
Always taking an indirect approach
Which has led to the current page of fate
And the smoke from nothing rises
Of nothing, to nothing, vaporous memories
Images of shadows addressing empty chairs
Avoiding the real elephants in the rooms
Treating image as symbol pointing to symbol
God is a symbol of God type thought
Abstractions that shy away from syllogism
The twisted logic of counter-inference
This may not be what you think it is
(Depending who you are and where you stand)
But you will fall back into your own constructs
And reconfirm the calcified habits of defection
In tandem with the anthem of rigorous rejection
Of all that follows a labyrinthine trail of thought
And seek out digressive thought patterns
A complete refusal to sit on concrete
And count the chips on palm of hand
Daydreams of consummate approaches
Please show me a thigh; I mean, a sign
Followed by a sigh, of the kind
That follows such frames of mind
When Grandfather passed,
his place at the table was still set.
At first our family was aghast,
but a widow’s devotional duty had been met
and for us, that was as good as it could get.
Then it was Mom who left us in her youth -
another empty chair.
To tell the truth,
it felt like she was there,
joining us in the pre-dinner prayer.
This tradition seems strange,
but we kept it going for loved ones old and young.
Now an empty table I arrange,
as to tradition’s memories I’ve clung.
It won’t end till my final dinner bell’s rung.
*Entry for the “Traditions” contest
Written December 2, 2011
On the back deck,
snow has turned two empty chairs,
sitting beside the shrouded grill,
into phantoms with open arms
waiting for corn to roast,
peppers to lose their crisp edges,
onions to gather sweetness,
and shrimp to hold their fibrous flavor
for the taster's tongue.
Birds by the score, alerted
by the snowy air, raid
the feeder above the grill.
Woodpeckers come,
the hairy, the downy, the nuthatch
the ladder-backed, feasting on suet.
Smaller birds ignore fear
(and the watchers behind glass),
bravely eat beside their enemy
as they dart, hop, fly on, over,
and under, two chairs and a grill.
place two chairs in a room
with three people moving around them
and at some point playing music
stop the music
and one person will be
left without a chair
looking for a way to get a chair
or will just disappear
you set the stage
you caused the outcome
one nothing
lounge
two chairs
side by side
both are are empty
waiting
On the morning of April 19, 1995,
Terror was heard through the Oklahoma sky.
At 9:02 A.M. the explosion did occur,
And the blue common day turned into a blur.
A memorial was built to mark the state’s loss,
Memorializing the one’s who paid terror’s cost.
A monument of seats stands brightening the night,
In nine rows of chairs illuminated by lights.
Brokenhearted and lonely we seem to be,
Silent and lonely but forever empty.
Built with emotion for who we symbolize,
In our bronze grain lies the pain of lost lives.
Born from molted bronze, given life through death,
We stand here for those who took their last breath.
But from where we stand, we stand with glee,
For in our sights lives the Survivor Tree.
Married together in this sacred place,
Imparting to those mercy and grace.
When families come here to see and reflect
Our memories live on as our loved ones connect.
Names of young and old we proudly bear;
In nine rows of 168 empty chairs.
_______________________
Inspired by Deborah Guzzi’s
—The Chairs Tale Contest—
You can take a virtual tour at
http://www.oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org
Oh, most precious were the hours we shared. But
they are now gone, and I can no longer benefit from
their experience, but in the eyes of my heart and
mind, they still sit so stately at my window. It was as
if they waited for me each morning, and I longed to be
cushioned and folded into their strong arms. I cannot
forget their appearance and how they so warmly
embraced and fitted me like a glove.
With Bible in lap and coffee in hand,
I would sit there in the early mornings.
Erect and stately, were two blue chairs
That faced each other with a lamp and table
In between. They were very comfortable,
Embracing, and firm.
One blue chair looked to the west.
The other blue chair faced the east.
I sat in the east-facing chair each
Morning and watched the sunrise.
Coffee, Bible, prayer, and two blue chairs.
The coffee, prayer, and Bible remain strong,
But the two blue chairs are gone now, and 2000
Miles separates us. Still in the family and given
To our son, but I'm missing my two blue chairs.
Oh, there will be other chairs to replace my two
Blue chairs, and I pray that they will serve me
Similarly. For a season, those two blue chairs
Were a God-send to me.
Oh, how I bless the joy and inspiration
That I received while sitting in them,
Especially the east-facing one that
So eagerly shared the rising sun
With me on many early mornings.