Best Seat Poems
just like their love of fifty years
that they held very dear
the lilies and the irises
looked radiant that year.
they had no need to prove their love
just a knowing glance instead
and a gentle squeeze when holding hands
beside their flower bed.
when both felt tired from bending down
and working in the heat
they spoke of seeds and bulbs and things
drinking tea upon the seat.
having rid the soil of all the weeds
he hoed and raked the earth.
the yellow line of daffodils
spoke more than words were worth.
and when their lawn was cloaked in leaves
from the sycamore above
they cursed and sighed just being themselves
in the autumn of their love.
and as he sat there mourning
the passing of his wife
he looked upon the garden as
A CELEBRATION
of her life.
Categories:
seat, death, garden, life, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
Finally it’s time to go,
All day I’ve pushed peddles with my feet,
I’ll hurry to the bus stop,
Being sure to get a good seat.
There, a chance to rest,
Home, I’m on my way,
Only to get up tomorrow,
And put in another day.
Photos, questions and fingerprints,
Did I commit a crime?
I distinctly remembered when I boarded,
Dropping in my dime.
Why give up my seat?
After working hard all day,
I thought the fare was the same for all,
Is there more I have to pay?
Don’t they know how hard I’ve worked?
To get this seat I had to rush,
Now you’re going to tell me,
Move to the back of the bus.
Wait, I pay my taxes,
Even go to church and pray,
They do not have the right,
To treat Rosa Parks this way.
I never wanted to start a movement,
Just have a seat on the bus,
Being treated fairly as an American,
Why is everyone making such a fuss?
My name is known throughout the world,
In history books here and there,
It really didn’t have to be me you know,
Just anyone who paid their fare.
Almost 50 years later,
An Icon is my name,
I’d gladly do it all again,
Circumstances being the same,
Heaven is my final journey,
Can’t wait till I get there,
Knowing I’m going to enjoy the ride,
I’ve already paid my fare.
Categories:
seat, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
Wet Was Toilet Seat
Here is my problem want to repeat;
Some liquid was left on toilet seat;
Made by man,
Who always can;
My frantic fanny and it would meet.
Jim Horn
How to greet a toilet seat and toilet
paper each sheet. Incidentally, I
always keep mine shut so the cats
can't drink out of it.
Categories:
seat, allegory, analogy,
Form:
Limerick
The first thing that I recall knowing
As a sturdy and young olive tree
Extremely well rooted and growing
Was the sweltering sunlight on me
For two centuries I took deep root
To prepare for my ultimate fate
So when I could no longer bear fruit
There was then but a decade to wait
I was cut—left to dry for ten years
So that seasoned I’d perfectly be
For what the carpenter engineers
For admirers my beauty to see
Finally, the time came to carve me
Into the stout piece that would bear
The One who came down from His glory
I’d become a rough-hewn olive chair
Into the great city I traveled
The same city once fated for doom
Through alleys, then up a steep stairway
I was put in a small upper room
Beside the simple wooden table
I was placed in center position
Where the King who was born in a stable
Sat prepared to accomplish His mission
He prayed and broke bread with His brothers
As a symbol of what He would do
He blessed it then passed to the others
As His body; ’twas "broken for you"
Then to signify His precious blood
The red wine from the cup He did sip
So that it could cleanse as a flood
As from nail wounds it later would drip
To this day, I still can remember
How it felt when Christ Jesus did rest
I sensed that His love was so tender
Even when He was put to the test
He said, “Father, Father, forgive them”
As He faced His long prophesied death
The love for all things He had poured out
As He uttered His very last breath
Today, the risen Lord I remember
Whose story has long since been told
As I sit in the same dusty chamber
And recall that Last Supper of old
* Placed 1st in Deborah Guzzi's contest, "The Chairs Tale"
Categories:
seat, faith, history, imagination, inspirationalcity,
Form:
Personification
i've seen it several times
someone motioning, flourishing
waggling, swinging, curving
hunching, moulding, stooping
pulling shapes, a twirling
a form, a delineation, shadows
fingers, tree branches, winding creeks
sometimes a head inclines
obstructing the cityscape
what are they listening to?
what are they talking about?
we've done it, we've become greenwood
sometimes a jungle
i've done it alone after dropping you off
cold storage becomes publicised
i've done it
i've done it, yes, i've cried in
the car
alone
Categories:
seat, humor, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
every man must stand some kneel first time before God sadly the last time
Categories:
seat, death, heaven, jesus, judgement,
Form:
Senryu
AT THE MERCY SEAT OF GOD
THERE ARE TIME IN MY LIFE I FELT DISTRESS
AND MY BURDENS,JUST TO HARD TO BARE,
BUT I FOUND A REFUGE FROM ALL THE STORMS
WHEN I WENT TO MY LORD IN PRAYER.
AT THE MERCY SEAT OF JESUS,SOMETIMES ALONE
IT WAS THERE MY TEARS WOULD FLOW,
WHEN I CRIED MY HEART OUT TO JESUS CHRIST
AT TIMES MY HEART WAS VERY LOW.
I FELT SO VERY CLOSE TO HEAVEN DOORS
I COULD HEAR THE ANGELS SING,
AT THE MERCY SEAT OF MY SWEET JESUS
MY SORROWS I WOULD BRING.
MY TEARS WOULD FLOW LIKE RAINDROPS
THAT DROPPED UPON THE GROUND.
MY HEART WOULD BE SO HEAVY AT TIMES
I THOUGHT IN MY TEARS I WILL DROWN.
BUT GOD REACHED DOWN FROM HEAVEN
AND HE SAW ME KNEELING THERE,
HE SAID MY CHILD RISE GO FORTH
FOR I HAVE HEARD YOUR EVERY PRAYER.
PLEASE TRUST ME AS I DO MY WILL
SEEK AND YOU SHALL FIND,
ME ALWAYS AT THE MERCY SEAT
COME WHILE THERE IS STILL TIME
WRITTEN BY ANN HART
AUG 9TH 2008
COPYRIGHTED
Categories:
seat, inspirationalme, heart, heart, me,
Form:
Movie seen
Driving home
Newly found couple
To be alone
River bank parked
Dead of night
His golden blond
Beautiful sight
Their lips meet
Hands wander
Imagination flow
Hearts ponder
To be comfortable
Seats are changed
Buttons loose
Clothes rearranged
Passion starts
Hands walk free
Skin explored
Of he and she
Naked souls
Join as one
Heavens merge
Joys begun
With her thrusting hips
In vice like grip
Her loving want
In her he slips
In passion applause
His lava flows
Her warm insides
Outer body glows
Sweet sweetened mix
Perfumed skin
Warm with-drawl
Potions swim
Kisses in clench
Tenderness
This loving two
Soft caress
Sexed and fed
They head of home
Wondering about
Their next love roam
Categories:
seat, girlfriend-boyfriend, love, passion
Form:
Rhyme
Two fat guys on a subway train,
Taking lots of space,
Had room enough between them
For a thin one to embrace.
A standing pole prevented
Easy access to the seat
So most of us considered
It not worth it to compete.
But twice, new passengers approached
And asked one guy to move,
A question totally ignored
For he was in his groove.
With phone in hand and head kept down
He blew off the request
And acted like he wasn’t
The malingerer addressed.
The first seat-seeker merely shrugged;
Resigned himself to stand.
The second asked again and then
Took matters into hand.
He squeezed into the little gap
And made himself at home,
Inspiring admiration and
The spur to write this poem.
Categories:
seat, new york,
Form:
Rhyme
We lie back listening
to the popping of stars in their dark pods.
I fish for words
that are not raw and wriggling.
You smoke a spiral staircase.
The car keeps swaying in our heads
over a shock absorbing silence.
I know you are looking through me,
searching for love-bones
on a distant back seat.
Categories:
seat, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
O classroom once alive with gentle voices,
Where morning greetings bloomed so bright and clear,
I leave you now—stripped of certain choices,
Unheard, unseen, dismissed through quiet fear.
The silence came—a shadow down the hall,
Erasing names without a single word.
No answer rose to break the rising wall,
No hand reached out, no empathy was stirred.
The leader’s crown slipped heavy from her brow,
Her heart shut tight, her words grew sharp and thin.
She silenced me—no reason, no end vow—
As though I never truly had been in.
The seats were shifted, voices reassigned,
My name erased like chalk at end of day.
Yet still I held the children in my mind—
Their laughter lighting up my fading way.
No grace was shown in hardship or in strain,
No hand extended in my time of need.
Just quiet exile and unspoken pain,
A glowing ember starved of light to feed.
And still within this grief, a truth I find:
Though bruised, my dignity does not depart.
Though shadows press, they cannot touch the mind
Or dim the quiet flame that burns in heart.
Farewell, sweet classroom—may your walls now hear
The echoes of respect, the sound of care.
And may those who still lead one day draw near
To build with love—a space just, kind, and fair.
Categories:
seat, education, grief,
Form:
Elegy
A real rebel I am, leave the toilet seat up
Leave dishes in the sink, don't rinse my cup
Bad through and through
But a loveable old shmoo
Slightly unbalanced but only a wee touch
Categories:
seat, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Toilet Seat
This again I may have to repeat
What if I were a troublesome toilet seat
Instead of up and down one of these days
I actually would have moved it sideways.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Categories:
seat, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
A man sitting on a toilet seat giving strength to his belly,
though resting his chin on his hand imitating the thinker
who is sitting in front of the gate of hell with deep thoughts,
naked on the bottom-half because he couldn't get completely naked
like the thinker, excretes waste from his body.
Although the waste excreted from his body can be flushed out
it may alleviate him for a while, the belly still is a bit uneasy
from the accumulated evil thoughts he kept in his body for years,
won't be able to flush out.
That's why the toilet seat starts to crack,
and because overly abusing the lower body
the pain creeps up from the bottom of the pit,
and that would be the entrance to the little hell.
If you see it from another angle, you can say that
the water from the toilet is the water of Lethe, which
will merge into Elysium, and therefore it may be Utopia;
then why squat down on the toilet seat troubled.
It's rather interesting to watch life,
since he is unable to filter the root of the larger hell
that is lurking somewhere in his body, though,
he fell into own dodge, condemning the lower belly,
unable to leave the toilet.
You are a weary wanderer going after a soul that drifted away;
you are a befogged soul facing hell but turning away from it,
and anchored the weight of your mind to the hell that is
on the other side of the world, sniffing a nauseous smell of sulfur
bubbling up from the bottom of the deep sea.
You are a wounded charger dashing aimlessly through the midst
of the smoke of battle and the rain of bullets, therefore, though
you have a mane you are unable to rise or call the wind, yet carrying
a self-conceited pedant who favors the use of unfamiliar words and
invents odd phrases to show-off on your back.
Why don't you, instead of pacing in hell,
swallow a handful of powder to help loosen the bowels excrete
the layer after layers of evil thoughts and the heaps of wastes
accumulated in the body for decades.
Categories:
seat, life, metaphor, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
Good early intent
echo of upright morals
subtle shaded later days
(reality counts)
in debt and in pride
shadowed regret and sadness
For the contest chair in a shadowed room, by Rick parise
Copyright Joe Maverick 2010
Categories:
seat, allegory
Form:
Choka