Joy dances in even to the bereft
She cracks my frown with a tango
Then she leaves my house swept
Joy is a hummingbird trapped indoors
Her iridescence lights up all my grime
Usher her out before I’m enamored
But, happiness is like fish overstayed
His cloying perfume overpowered
He is a rhino to her phoenix raised
Sometimes joy is an elephant
Hiding under a tablecloth snickering
She exits invisibly like an ant
Sometimes she’s Mary Poppins waltzing
Scrubbing a spot that I cannot dirty
Sprinkling a spoon full of sugar on salt
A lifetime of joy waltzing in wears me out
Then happiness retires to a piece of furniture
I’ll give her a ticket to dance and not pout
Someday when I am old and feeble
Too tired of laying ashes down
I’ll let joy lift my frown with needles
I’ll let her cat sit on my lap untamed
When I’m too demented to sully joy
I’ll let joy feast upon my remains
Till then I’ll leave the door ajar
** Luke 12:36
"Be like men who are waiting for their master when he returns from the wedding feast, so that they may immediately open the door to him when he comes and knocks."
"The Odyssey, First Steps"
"You’re just like a doll...
you're like a doll,
in a dream", he said,
I nod, up then down,
as if my head moves
by puppet master
I turn with the strings
like a piece of furniture
facing East door, then,
the ghost in me arises
from its chair
and like an automaton,
I walk, through the door
I walk, I turn North,
as if drawn
by architecht
Sthapatya Veda;
the Odyssey, first steps
looking for
the way to
Brahmasthan
the centre
pulls me back
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
The elevator took its time,
A long delay on 3
And when it hit the lobby,
This is what confronted me:
Two men, their arms all wrapped around
What I believed to be
A covered piece of furniture,
As far as I could see.
I almost joked that it appeared
To look like someone dead,
But when I saw the stretcher,
Well, it filled my mind with dread.
I turned around; the doorman
Caught my eye and shook his head.
The message got through clearly,
Though the details weren’t said.
I’ve lived there over 40 years
And other tenants died.
I’d never seen one take
That final elevator ride.
no I am not merchandise
I'm not a tool a piece of furniture
I am awakened I am a thought
I am humanities process I am covered in filth and shame
I am dirty yet I remain
a flickering flame an encased rock
one of the breath of God a spark
from his mouth a tittle a flowing raindrop
from his heart I ference I am detained
I am a human being
though I am a vessel
A vase a pottery a clay full of the spirit of God
made whole born with a soul
I have fallen until the ground
and as I am broken
God removed me He puts the pieces back together
so I'm fine to be the chosen vessel
to be reconstructed to be learned a lesson
I am a blessing I am a stone
made of dirt and clay a rock
with the Breath of God in Me
I am shorn busted up put back together by my Father
I am not a slave nor was I made to be auctioned off
I cannot be bought I am not sold
I am made wonderfully made birth
kissed of God the breath that air of life
from his mouth flows through my nostrils
into my lungs as I become... a living Rock
8/21/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Every piece of furniture reminds her of him.
She picks up the phone.
To tell him something funny.
To get his reactions.
To hear his voice.
Every glance out the window is a memory.
She picks up the phone
To feel his smile
To hear him laugh at the same time
To explain her feelings
Forgetting each time
There are no phones in heaven.
My heart has accepted every piece of furniture
you have brought in and hoarded, polished and stored,
for show or hidden in the attic of cerebral storage.
Cobwebs draped the entrances I walked through
without wincing, chasing extinguishing light…
gold tarnishing possibilities that I found invaluable.
Did you see her?
She’s gorgeous,
She’s nice,
She’s pleasant,
She’s everything you’re not.
And what angers me the most?
You like her,
You wish them both good luck.
I mean,
At first he rejected her,
But it seems he now realizes the mistake he made.
Maybe it’s true,
And he just wants her as a friend,
Maybe you are exactly what he needs.
But you are definitely not what he wants.
I mean,
What have you to offer?
Beauty?
Witts?
Charm?
Class?
You have NOTHING.
You ARE nothing.
Stop having that daydream that he cares.
He doesn’t.
You are an amusement to him.
He looks into your eyes and feels nothing,
While he’s the only reason you even try,
At ANYTHING.
But I’m grateful to him,
And making me feel,
Well,
Anything.
Perhaps I’m not dead inside,
Not as I thought.
But don’t humiliate yourself again;
If he chooses you,
Don’t push him away;
And if he doesn’t,
Let him in,
And be there for him.
Being in his life,
Even as a piece of furniture,
Is so much better than being nothing.
Our Cats Jack and Henry
(There is a Henry Horn in our family
who lived in Bavaria, Germany.)
Cats were asleep in our each seat
(This is actually true.)
And both of them looked so sweet
While comfortably lying there
Waiting to receive our loving care.
Up against my feet would rub
Each piece of furniture and tub
Name we must dub on each one
Jack and Henry who have fun.
So going around they will keep
And then start falling fast asleep
After eating food they were fed
Ended up conked out in their bed.
You have to like this one.
Instead of John Boy you can
call me James Boy. Wonder
if they still make those same
Big Chief writing pads he
used to write on.
Jim Horn
Languishing roses in her vase
Love is but an antiquated sentiment
As her youth has faded.
Fame is wasted on the famous.
This much she knows now.
The glitter. The razzle and dazzle
All made a vanishing act.
The ghost of her star remains.
She looks in the reflective glass
And finds a new line deeper than pain
In her forehead.
The stray greys shoot from her hair
In winding coils.
Once she took care of her greys
With a bottle of scarlet dye.
Not today.
Today, she takes a drag from her cigarette
And wears a long gown with faded roses
Once in crimson blooms.
Not even Jesus can restore her fading star.
So she resigns to her destiny
And relaxes back to her velvet chair
The only piece of furniture in her once grand
Now almost derelict mansion
That still provides comfort for her aching bones.
She closes her eyes and drifts into a deep sleep.
Sweet dreams of her youth flood her still.
There once was a gentle man so humble before all
who were common and before all who were great.
Never did He bow down before man nor worldly kings.
This one man talked about what true love is... not about politics.
This man who stepped down here below became a loving
carpenter, a builder and a mender of something more than
just a piece of furniture.
There were only a certain few that could follow him and
comprehend the magnitude of what His presence would
mean to us all.
The visions of such possibilities were not understood by all.
This man, God's kingly Son, ruler of another world if not more
was one in whom Father God was well pleased with.
The Kingdom was not only at hand but had arrived this moment
right before their eyes.
The prick of the thorn, the heat of Satan could be felt lashing
into this brave man's flesh... he had tempted him with every pleasure
and even a place of rule upon the Earth.
God forbid in Satan's mind that there should be room for
Heaven and Earth's rebirth... an existence without him? Unthinkable
in his mind.
S.E. Clark copyright 2011
Pardon my heavy pace,
Heavy as I may seem.
Indecisive as i maybe,
I am working towards thee.
To that far left corner
I must move this piece of furniture.
And this one to right corner
No, Im throwing it out the aperture!
That reaction was not proper.
I need to repent instantly.
This right doing, is not proper.
Isn't there a manner much suiting?
Heavy as I may seem,
I am working towards you.
Indecident I might seem,
Leaving with you is my ambition.
You are gentle.
With David you were.
You branded him your own.
The man after your own heart.
For furniture i care not.
Neither for silver nor gold.
I booked a seat in your boat.
Just don't leave without me.
N- Nothing...I’m not even there….you offer me nothing
E- Empty…You leave me empty of life, love, laughter…
G- Gnarled…My soul is gnarled by your nail of indifference
L- Lifeless…I breathe, and yet my dreams have lost the breath of life
E- Endangered…I face extinction due lack of soul nourishment
C- Confined….I’m captive in the walls of your carelessness
T- Tired…Your absence leaves me tired…Tired of wanting….tired of waiting….for you.
You neglect me, treat me like I don’t exist, like I don’t matter, like there is no spark in my soul, no light in my eyes, no dream in my heart……I am nothing to you…..and yet, you won’t set me free. I’m a piece of furniture you rest on when you are tired. I am nourishment you feed on when famished. I am security you hide in when afraid…..
When you are not in need….NEGLECT is what you feed me.
Nothing but neglect….
In my heart…nothing…..
For you!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
it seems as though
a thousand years have passed
us by
and you have reduced me
to some kind of
common piece of furniture
you’re over here
i’m over there
looking at each other;
reflections in smoked glass
taking our norm and twisting it to fit
your perfectly sick fantasy of
comfort and security
quiet, deep inside
you like to be
ruled, told
how and what
to think and feel
then, in the end
it was never really you;
lying to ourselves is the worst thing we can do
and you say
you don’t wanna be like me
it would be nice to be green again
without the depth of time
and the gravity of life
strapped tight around my heart
I'm not made me to stare on at the world,
Else I become the sky;
I'm not made me to be exploited without resistance,
Else I become the earth;
I'm not made me to roam from dawn till dusk,
Else I become a low animal;
I'm not made me to be feared by my fellow mortals,
Else I become a god;
I'm not made me to be pushed around,
Else I become a piece of furniture;
I'm not made me to be an awesome and dreaded enigma,
Else I become Bermuda Triangle;
I'm not made me to be hated by all,
Else I become that that does not exist;
I'm not made me to be loved today and hated tomorrow,
Else I become fire;
Just like the rain, sun and wind,
I'm made me to be there for all;
Just like the moon,
I'm made me to give out as I receive;
I'm made me to do glorifying deeds to He that made me!
I may be no linguistic superstar
Or bachelor,master, doctor of languages
But i'll have you know
I've performed my works on many occasions
To cats, dogs, trees and miscellaneous flora
All of whom showed quiet
Appreciation
And genuine interest
In what I had to say
I have shouted rhymes and
Metaphors
At the top of my voice
To the inside of my house
While every piece of furniture
Sat motionless in awe
Rehearsed countless conversations
Loudly
While riding bicycle
Through quiet spectacular landscapes
Magnificent mountains
Stood high in silence
Listening to every word
Offering quiet encouragement
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.