Settee Poems | Examples

My Bicycle of Imagination

My Bicycle of Imagination

The day and I are hand in hand, 
brimming with a zippety-whippity-do.
I sit atop my saddle, my bicycle, my hill;
the morning mist is ragged like candy floss
on barbed wire, waggled fences.
 	
Below a liquorice-tarmacked road 
elbows through a mosaicked landscape;
churned fields sitting either side,
serrated into channels of earth;
suited and rooted in browned corduroy.

Then further on and along, 
the sky sits sedately on the sea, 
resting on a blue, rippled settee,
just out of close reach
of a mustard scarf of a beach.

Clouds rear - wild, white stallions; 
they settle, then away at a gallop,
racing, chasing the prize in
the finishing line, the horizon. 
Watch out, speedy swallow,
now, it’s my time to follow!!

I sense my bicycle’s stalled frustration,
so my body engine sets it free;
muscles tighten, pedals spin,
it’s time to fly, time to check in.
Off we go…wind pushing at my heels,
sunlight splashing off the wheels
down I swoop, a dance of balance;
the bike glides, the road slides.

Watch me come, watch me go
connecting, perfecting with nature’s flow; 
sky, land and sea…………WEEEEEEEEEEE!

Dumpster Fire

In a dumpster at a house close to me
were the contents of a home bourgeoisie. 
In the night, it caught fire,
which did fill me with ire;
was gonna dive for a velvet settee!

The Picture on the Parlor Wall

All became purview in her constant gaze ~
eyes that followed, no matter my corner,
nor settee where fleur-de-lis begged recline ~
and, no peace was found in voyeuristic laze.
Even in the vestibule - through the door
            she stares
~ her beauty lingers there and captures 
daydreams that share this moment in time.
I wonder ~ did the artist love her too,
he, who captured every seductive line
of wanting eyes and impatient grin?

How can one wish they'd never met a painting
   without knowing ~ lost love...

Wanting

Oh, oh! 	pity party
I want          my old house back
I want it summer
	windows open    curtains    fluttering
                   in the ocean breeze

I want my carpet		sofa	     chairs
		desk	    etagere	
	coffee table       piles of books
				and magazines
I want my little kitchen
      	chopping block island
		            glass-front cabinets
	with the Chilmark pottery

I want my garden         rhododendrons 
 Montauk daisies
             the curved path with 
         axioms carved into flat stones
           
I want my white-fenced yard
garden shed	 made by 
the Martha’s Vineyard High School
	         carpentry class 

I want my wide-railing porch
                settee swing and chair
           		blue and white striped cushions
flower baskets hanging all around

I want my friends, my neighborhood
          ocean         beach plums         wild grapes
		for the picking

I want my old home back

Newlywed fix'er

.

          Pouting
         day long
   Save mine arrive

Smiling in the settee
        hern cute

            limp



*shadang; there'z the sum who missed this
                (this be the double entendre) like-
                wise, as for mineself, there'z surly
                no indecent within this write..okay,
                risque'  ,)

Burp

Reindeer at Christmas will often eat carrots
Though Santa once had one who liked to eat parrots
But parrots at Christmas can be hard to find
He wasn’t too fussy so he didn’t mind
He never complained that he felt out of luck
When push came to shove he would also eat duck

With Christmas upon them there’s no time to eat
But he wouldn’t grumble and he wouldn’t bleat
He’d fly through the skies with his mouth gaping wide
A mallard would soon sate his hunger inside
“Don’t swallow ducks whole,” that was Santa’s suggestion
“You'll belch through the night due to dodgy digestion.”

A nine year old lad hid behind the settee
And woke mum and dad at a quarter to three 
He told them he’d waited since late Christmas Eve
And then he said something they couldn’t believe
“The presents are under the tree neatly stacked
I swear they were left by a reindeer that quacked.”

The Ache of An Abandoned Wife

She did not have to guess.
She felt it in her bones. 
Unfaithful he always was,
Unfaithful he'll always be.
She knew where he would be.
 
Anger flared in the pit of her stomach,
A heart-wrenching in the ache of fire.
What could she do?  Revenge?
She rejected such thoughts 
Knowing well enough 
She was no match against him.
Why couldn't he love only her?
Why did he leave her dehydrated of love?
 
As in the Fall, her love-like leaves
Fell down, turned brown,
Definitely to be lost forever.
She'll do without him, come what may.
Thus she lay on her settee, love choked,
Folded herself foetus-like,
Relishing the darkness of her abode.
 
Another lonely night, cursing her dreams.
A wave of nausea gripped her soul,
Knew she'll have to take her medication
Before she really turned sick.
She swallowed the two pills,
She would not please him and have more.
But she could not resist
Drinking ruby red dry wine.

She felt confused. Did she swallow her pills?  
Doubt after doubt after doubt.
Her bottle seemed empty. 
So she drank some more.
Finally, she slept 
Alone, abandoned on the settee.

No Settee For Betty

A plump little girl named Betty
She ate copious amounts of spaghetti
She loved the stuff
It was never enough
She got too fat to sit on the settee

Ikea Assembly

Do you ever think about film characters in the realms of reality?

Think about someone like Grima Wormtounge making Saruman a pot of tea?

What about the eye of Sauron trying to find someone to play monopoly or Frodo, giving the ring to Gollum so he can go just home for tea?

Ever think about the characters with their nail clippers, getting waxed or brushing their teeth?

Imagine Rambo with a lawnmower that’s gone faulty?

Or what about The Terminator assembling IKEA furniture quietly? 

Ok, try to picture Deadpool trying to find something to wear to a fancy dress party. 

What about the ‘man with no name’ listening to the payment options for a flat-screen TV? 

Now, what about James Bond getting pissed on your settee or Jason Bourne, bag in hand, waiting to see if the dog just wanted a pee?

Do you ever think of film characters in the realms of reality or is it just me?

Grabbing a Life Line

Night bring terrible memories,
shadows of yesteryears,
it takes my breath away
in fears, anguish and hell.
An ugly wolf runs after me
as I slither in the mud
heart beats burst my chest with pains.
Please take away those forces
that rumble in my midriff
driving me crazy with dread.
I cannot cry, I can only pray
that dawn arrives
with its damask cupola
when stars fade away 
and the moon hides its face in shame.
Why is the break of day so far away?
I lie numb on the settee
Perspiration running down my cheeks.
I skate near life's edge
I try to grab a lifeline,
find only puffs of hot dry air.
And time goes by so slowly,
pain like the claws of an eagle
squash my soul of its life.
No, I will not cry, I will only pray.
Dear God, thanks,
You've given me a new day.

Good Dies and Bad Belongs

Walking home I kick the stones. I kick the dirt as well.
Today a life changed but not for me, for someone, someone else.

I see the birds fly into the tree, I listen to their songs. I see the children play in the street and pray that they all one day find true love.

The world plays out on my tv and I think that I know. I chose a path where instantly good dies and bad belongs.

I walk up the garden path at this my childhood home. 
My mother sees red stains on my jacket sleeves and asks what have I become?

I sit on the old settee and she turns the tv on.
A sound of sirens moves closer to me and she stares in silence and concern.

I smile, I drink the tea as shadows fill the door.
I turn and ask one question before my life changes so drastically: 

‘When’s the weather on?’

I Think of Life With An Elegant Man

I think of life with an elegant man.
I see a man whose hands are silk to me.
He's stunning in a suit (well-groomed is he).
He loves to read and maybe plays Chopin.
He whisks me off to Paris or Milan.
His dwelling has divans and a nice settee.
We meet the afternoons for chat and tea,
then ride inside a chauffeured black sedan.

Such a man a mystery shall remain.
For me - champagne to my accustomed beer.
I steered toward one whose words and deeds are plain.
He has no care for things that I revere.
For art and culture my man has disdain.
He's strong and bronzed, though, and his heart's sincere.

July 31, 2021
For Chantelle Anne Cooke's Anything You Want - Must Be New Poem Contest

Smokey the Curious Cat

Through all his years he was such fun,
Companion, friend and more;
Adventure was his middle name,
And I was never bored.

As long as Smokey was around,
He'd brighten up my day.
He'd snuggle, cuddle, kiss and swat,
And say,"Come on, let's play."

I had some turtles in a bowl,
As cute as they could be.
They disappeared while I was out,
Found under the settee.

I had my suspicions,
About how they got there;
So I watched my little buddy,
But he never moved a hair.

Then one day he strolled by me,
With something in his mouth.
I followed him to the living room.
He crawled beneath the couch.

He placed a turtle on the floor,
And gently lay beside it.
Just watching it so patiently,
Not hurting it a bit.

Slowly it stuck out it's head,
Then it began to move.
Curiously he watched it go,
Thought Smokey, "He's got groove."

"I like this tiny little guy.
I wonder what it is."
I reached in and picked it up,
"Busted, here's the miz."

"These guys will die without their bowl.
Smokey don't do that."
But I still love you best you know.
You are the best of cats."

Solitude - Silence Is Golden

Susannah sits savoring the silence
snuggled sleepily on the settee
enjoying espresso and eating éclairs -
she needed some space and solitude,
twins, the ‘terrible twos’ are so taxing!
Her husband’s taken Hannah and Holly
to a party at Pirate Pete’s play park.



04/01/21

Relatively Tricky

RELATIVELY TRICKY

I needed to choose six relatives
To form a “bubble” plus me.
I wanted to celebrate Christmas
During Covid restrictions you see.

All right, I know that makes seven,
One more than there ought to be.
But, if the police should come to check,
I’ll hide behind the settee.

But how to choose half a dozen
From such an extensive clan?
Well, first, although she’ll moan all day,
I’ll have to invite my Gran.

Now, if I invite Uncle Charlie,
I can’t have Auntie Vi.
They haven’t spoken for thirty years,
Though neither remembers why.

And similarly Cousin Fred
Remains extremely bitter
Since Cousin Jane insulted him
Through the medium of Twitter.

My sister falls out with no-one
So she’ll be there no doubt.
But my brother has seven children
So I guess that rules him out.

Great Aunt Maude must be there,
She’s always spoilt me to bits.
Every year she sends me a sweater
(Though I’ve never had one that fits)

Right, that’s five I’ve chosen
Who won’t cause too much strife.
So who can be the sixth one?
Oh, I’d better invite the wife!

16th November 2020
Six Relatives contest
Sponsor - Caren Krutsinger

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