Seat Poems - Poems about Seat

The Seat of Truth

The moth mistakes my bare skin for moonlight—recurring, insistent. Its wings dust the wrist like a forgotten promise, reminding me of a question I never dared ask aloud. I had held his wrist, not his hand. A ghost of a moment playing on loop in my hypnagogic state.

moonlight 
     TrEmBlEs 
on

Riding in the Back seat

moonlight turns raindrops
into snow globes on windows
reflections of us
late night driving in the rain
drowsy eyes drop into sleep

window cracked, white noise 
lights flickering through the rain
my eyes flutter closed

Trixie My Muse Keeps Me on the Edge of my Seat

her thoughts are mighty and marvelously influential to me.
I call her Trixie, my muse, she is truly the ultimate queen bee.
She won’t leave me alone, she’s like a dog with a hankering for duck.
How do you write so often? Other writers ask. Is it some kind of luck?

It is my muse, she is persnickety, tenacious

A Seat Taken, A Spirit Kept

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

From my window seat

“This is a familiar route and one of the most common ones (at least to my seasoned eyes; you may find it beautiful)” — overheard.

______

A day like any other,
but also
a day like no other—

                     

Passenger seat

For a long time some time ago I believed I knew everything and there was nothing left to know. It was a role that I knew how to play. It was a character who kept me alive every day. When it was time to give someone the wheel, I felt a weight lifted from my

Before The Seat Was Taken

The room was still when Power knocked—
 not loud, not proud, but sure.
 The Chair sat waiting, velvet-backed,
 untouched, and made to endure.

The walls had yet to learn the weight
 of promises unkept.
 The carpet, clean—untrampled still—
 knew nothing of secrets swept.

The pen was full, the desk was clear,
 the seal uncracked, unswayed.
 The nation

In the seat cricle

Every person of us sins.
Day by day doing something bad but getting bumped on events of doing good along getting stitched by pins.

You see, hobbies like doing a Sport helps your brain to better start communicate or even just drinking one of your favorite teas can leave your body warmth stay high.
When a sin comes

Give Me The Ministerial Seat

Give me the ministerial seat
I labored months to breed kings,  
Fingers cramped to feed queens,  
With a long list of wishes to fulfill.  

Give me the ministerial seat 
I wept in secret,  
And smiled with no morsel in my belly.  
I became all— even god.  

Give me the ministerial

Mother nature’s seat

Tree standing high and tall
Once was short and small
Branches reaching up to the sky
Swaying in the wind’s gentle sigh
Roots digging far and deep
Still with life they sweetly keep
Leaves here but once was gone
Which they crunch a gentle song
Songbird singing in the sun
Bringing peace and simple fun
Grass growing gentle green
Giving comfort with blades so keen
Flowers popping

Drones Take a Back Seat Tonight

     Sightings reported all across the globe
     Perhaps a weird, undulating space probe

        First it’s way up in the sky
        Then it dips down to say ‘Hi’

     Scares the

A seat at the Master's table

Oh what I wouldn't give for a seat at the Masters table
Begging for the crumbs
Yet no one gave her anything 
How do I find the Master's table
To sit at his blessed feet
Oh what sweet release 
The book I'm told is the bread and it is where we are fed
Blessed day at the table of the

Back Seat Blues

He bought himself a tandem
In the hope that he would meet
A suitable young lady who’d
Ride on his back seat.
He took it to the Dance Hall
But didn’t stand a chance 
Cycling not seeming to fit in
With ideas of modern romance

He’d offer one a lift and
See her expression slip 
When handed a bike cape
And a pair of

permanent seat

when my days slow down 
prop me up so I can watch 
life still evolving

Seat at my table

I feel so bad writing these verses
Spewing hate when all I feel is love
38 years of pain is seeping
Kindness leaving, my life is for reaping

Never allowed to express my feelings 
Others always right, my heart always takes a beating 
My truth is mine, you dont have to believe 
Your truth is yours only to perceive

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