Best Chaise Poems
Another sweltering day
soaking up all the summer sun has to offer
The trade winds blow but offer no relief
slowly I sip on a frozen peach margarita
ice cold to the touch, but melting fast
water droplets roll down cooling my wrist
bringing back memories
memories of that cool December day
your first taste of snow
how I didn't even know
that gleam in your eye
when we made those snow angels
they seemed to come alive
all those laughs, your giggle
so much more than a memory
building that tiny igloo
you dragging me in
giving me that big kiss
for the night, the perfect inn
hot cocoa sitting round the open fire
you in my arms
you captured my heart
and all my desire
such a sweet time.
Opening my eyes I turn to you
half-asleep on that chaise lounge
kiss your hand
and whisper I love you
Nude draped across *Chaise Longue like a pharaoh,
Stained with cheap coffee from the expresso,
Take-outs growing mould beside my cello,
It reads ‘Buyer’s Dream’ on the sale memo,
Landlord shrieks for rent in high *falsetto,
“Maybe next week”, I sing back in *mezzo,
I pour a long-cracked mug of prosecco,
Next doors jazz flows, Nina Simone’s echo,
That paints the canvas bright gold and yellow.
* Chaise Longue – A long chair
* Falsetto – high-range singing voice
* Mezzo – ‘middle” in Italian (middle range for female singers)
07/11/22
Monomixorhyme and Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Hilo Poet
Syllable counter: howmanysyllables.com
The only ounce of energy I'll be expending today
is having picked up a pen to scrawl these lines...
"I have declared this to be Dolce Far Niente Day."
Enjoying the sweet life, doing nothing by design.
I'll be spending time as I desire lazing in a chaise,
pretending I'm vacationing in the hills of Tuscany
whose orchards are heavy with grapes I must praise
for the mellow flavor of the fine wine offered me.
I will indulge myself enjoying their sweet bouquet,
malingering while listening to Chopin's Polonaise.
It's my intent to hold an annual Dole Far Niente Day
and have it last 'til stars ignite the night sky ablaze.
I will enjoy pampering myself with nothing more to do
but gaze on the clear blue waters of the Ligurian Sea.
Nothing will be hampering my idle nor twist it askew,
for I'll pay no heed to misgivings while in this reverie.
No more writing for I've taken good measure this day.
Pool waters are calling me, where I'll float peacefully
as twilight darkens. I'll take pleasure as I gently sway
in a hammock, content to stare at the moon dreamily.
A Reverie
As I lie on my chaise with my friends,
And cherish their differences,
Straight and waxy as sequins is one,
Bent as a clown tipping his hat, another,
Straight, proud, white tux, there you are,
And little gnarled embarrassed one,,
For your frock is the first to yellow,
I lay down my depressed mood and then
Set my mind to remembering when.
When a handsome lover and his children played,
And you were all saplings, stretching early days.
There have been more goodbyes than anyone knows,
But just as many lovely hellos,
You witnessed barbecues and parties,
And the withering of your own.
Illnesses have come and been quickly healed,
Growing, graduations, marriages, too.
The lover and children gone.
Now it is twilight time, and you and I are alone,
We are the sum of Christmasses past,
We are the love that did and didn’t last,
But twilight is soft, and we are blessed.
And you speak your breezes gently.
We were golfing in the morning
It was me and my friend Bill
We were on hole number seven
Everything was going well
I drove my ball straight down the fairway
The shot was pretty nice
Bill leaned hard into his shot
But he had a tendency to slice
It disappeared toward the Condos
We could hear a frightening crash
The picture window tinkled down
Pieces lying on the sash
He said I must go and apologize
To the lady in the place
He found her lying in her chaise lounge
Dressed in frilly things and lace
He went in to check the damage
That he’d done to her place
He came out two hours later
With a big smile on his face
She said don’t worry ‘bout the damage
I already have been paid
My day has started very nicely now
What a difference it has made
I may have lost a window
But the breaks been very nice
You can stop in any time
It has been a slice
Summers Warmth
Authored by Chuck Keys
What happens to the summer’s warmth in the fall?
Does it stay in nostalgia’s book of memories?
Or is it found inside
... a wrinkled coffee stained yellowed crossword puzzle section,
Blowing eloquently with the wind on the chaise in the sun porch?
What if the summer’s warmth just fades into introspection?
With all of its self doubts and hesitancies,
Where the mind ceases conscious thoughts of fancy and free,
Slowly drifts back into the beauty and fragrances that once were present.
What if the summer’s warmth doesn't want to leave,
And stays inside our minds and hearts, waiting,
To come forth, eternally,
Stronger, wiser and agelessly aggressive; alive.
In the autumn of our seasons,
Where time flows to and fro,
Where beauty and passion rests inside those with heart,
Where the summers warmth exists, forever.
Even in the cold winter months of soon to be.
Distressed by Rob Barratt
My furniture is all distressed
It's unusually unstable
The oak bookcase is quite depressed
As is the coffee table
The worktop has a thin veneer
It seethes beneath the surface
The taps know how low they can… sink
And think life has no purpose
The painted window frame's been stripped...
Of dignity. It's lacquered
The blue front door's morale has dipped
The cheese board is cream-crackered
The writing bureau doesn't give a jot
The cupboard suffers mockery
It hates the plates and has no mates
It misuses jugs...and crockery
The kitchen table's past is stained
The dishwasher has worries
Last week it broke down and explained
That it was missing Curry's
The settle never settles
And the new desk is neurotic
The chaise longue is invariably wrong
The sofa is psychotic
The fey pouffé is apt to weep
It's covered in wet tissues
The rocking chair, it never sleeps
The magazine rack has Big Issues
The bed’s always horizontal
The tallboy’s a cross dresser
The umbrella stand is second hand
And feels its worth is lesser
The mirror which reflects, neglects
The fine wine rack which whines
The shelves themselves lack shelf-respect
The dining table pines
The mantelpiece has no mental peace
It's fired up with wrath
The woodburner has lost its spark
The wardrobe is a goth
The exposed beams aren’t what they seem
The ceiling's always plastered
The landing has a manic stair
It's an evil little bastard
The piano's case isn't black and white
The floorboards feel downtrodden
The dressing table's dressed to kill
The mini-bar is sodden
The Ottoman is not a man
But it's no couch potato
The teak footstool's a crazy fool
Who quotes in Greek from Plato
Yes, my furniture is all distressed
But they've reason for concern
Oh... I must get it off my chest
...Tomorrow they will burn!!
(sing to The Beatles' "Norwegian Wood)
I once had the best
Furniture but
It got distressed
So I lit a fire isn't it good?
Norwegian Wood.
frère dans ta chaise
c'est moi qui t'embrasse
When I die
I wont say goodbye
If you die
I shall cry
Shall we both die?
Who then opens the sky?
Flowers will bloom though
Père Lachaise knows why
When death dances
We all shall cry
I lay my head down
so to sleep
In vats of wine
dreams ferment to keep
Souls be damned
Love made us weep
I will be there
With you and the roses
I feel my ears pop,
As the light above me increases ...
Columns of purple sunshine shimmer and dance.
I swim up out of the cool, inky blackness of the depths,
And finally reach the surface, head bobbing like a balloon,
Frilly slits on my neck closing up and sealing, as I switch to breathing air.
I suck the thick oxygen atmosphere deep into my lungs, then exhale.
The detritus from my gills comes up with the first breath, and I spit it away,
(Small creatures that follow me, gobble it up hungrily ... nothing wasted).
I need not struggle swimming on the surface here -
The water's high saline level helps me float without effort,
So I lay back and stretch, relaxing my length, as if in a chaise lounge.
The bright purple sky dances with clouds, (and a couple of bright stars),
Two blood-red suns now low, nearing the horizon.
Though they never set, they do crimp the reach for many hours,
Before climbing again to make the sky near-blue.
Clouds are rarely white, (only when the suns are high),
But vary in shades from crimson to pink,
Again, depending on the time of day and moisture content.
I live above AND below the water here ...
My genetic alterations, (very expensive, thus),
Allow me to extract oxygen from air and water, easily transitioning.
I have long webbed toes and fingers to swim speedily,
Eyes that can detect ultraviolet and infrared,
And something similar to sonar, that I can search the depths with,
And also use to tap into the communication satellites,
As well as send personal messages to others here such as I,
Who have chosen the amphibious life of this purple planet.
I have a house back on the island, with all amenities,
But I rarely go there, choosing instead to spend most of my time
On or near the water, searching the depths for the edibles,
Or sleeping on the beach under the stars,
Composing music and poetry during the day, or visiting friends.
I send my work out onto the inter-world web,
It earns me enough to remain comfortable ... and happy.
But what I love the most, are the other intelligent creatures here ...
Most are "sea" dwellers, but all are non-aggressive.
Learning the language of each will take a lifetime,
But it is a labor of love, with joyous reward ...
Friendship!
Have any of you experienced one of those days
When you just want to stare at the sky on your chaise
Let the world pass you by
Sing a sweet lullaby
Till you're off to dreamland in the afternoon haze
© Jack Ellison 2015
Mother Nature is the star of the summer show
Knows what we look for, knows to her we owe
The sunshiny happy days
Laying on a chaise
Burning the crap out of our ears and our nose
Fire kissed you lay your ivory skin aglow
beneath the gaslight from the cheery floral globe
marooned in innocence he died not long ago
and left you to wear a ring and coal black robes.
Drained of emotion, still as death but in repose
beneath the gaslight from the cheery floral globe
you rest. Your ruddy cheeks the firelight bestowed
a vigor your weary heart can no longer hold.
Drained of emotion, still as death but in repose,
the shadows soften, pearl your skin, highlight the gold
in waves your silken tresses fall, their flow shows
a vigor your weary heart can no longer hold.
So like the Lady of Shalott, she's indisposed
for like Ophelia white as bone on a chaise she lays,
in waves your silken tresses fall, their flow shows
that sunshine kissed your crown oft on better days.
Let her not wake, we need no words to see her pain
for like Ophelia white as bone on a chaise she lays,
her heartbeat slows, his wraith goes, all's been in vain.
I
Catching Rays – a Duo Rhyme
If you’re lying naked on your chaise
in your backyard catching rays
be careful others may intrude
calling your behavior lewd
a towel cover you should include
in case your accidently viewed
certain parts must not protrude
when you sunbathe In the nude
your actions might be misconstrued
and cause the neighborhood to feud
but go for it on sunny days
if your in a tanning craze
THE METEOR - SOFA PEOPLE
Sofa pyromaniacs are skilled to put it mildly.
Fueled fiercely by gasoline (as is fitting)
Or by kerosene burning wildly,
They enjoy a fire to warm their sofa-sitting.
In anger are the flames incepted on the two-seater?
Or by simple accident of cigar or match?
Maybe the cat stumbled over the gas-heater
And then sat nearby to warm and watch?
But however the inferno got started bright,
What caused its plunge to earth
Like a shooting star or meteorite?
Did people push it, for malice or mirth?
To manhandle a burning sofa is a skill -
Out of a window eight floors up. If that’s their aim
They’d have to get it balanced on the windowsill
Before igniting the flame.
Oh the joy in their eyes :
Just push - and see the sofa incandescent
Recede and diminish in size
On its plunging earthward descent.
Then the son-et-lumiere display
From the crunch and splitting sound -
And oh the splendor bright as day
As the glowing hulk meets the ground.
And passing viewers catch their breath
From this Viking-funeral excitement;
And from their close brush with a fiery death -
Crushed by a hot chaise-longue into the pavement.
I often find myself lost in a daydream like trance,
for it has always been my wish to travel France;
to Paris, know to be the city of culture and romance.
Escaping reality, I walk crisscross cobbled streets,
stop at a terrace for cafe and croissant treats;
go to the opera and mingle with the Parisian elites.
In my daydream, I am floating down the Seine river,
wandering the Louvre and at the top of the Eiffel, I quiver;
gazing at Paris, so beautifully lit up at night, I shiver.
I want the bookstores, outdoor markets, the wine,
the architecture, and on delicious French food dine;
and at Pere La Chaise Cemetery among graves twine.
I will never let go of my Paris, France daydream,
oh yes, my daydream has a recurring theme;
it comes to me in a vintage gray color scheme.
______________________
November 21, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Don't Quit Your Daydream
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1503-797-21
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Entered into the contest, Don't Quit Your Daydream
sponsor, Craig Cornish