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Peter Rogers Aug 2021
Steel chairs
They’re steel chairs
They’re still his
And they’re still yours
They’re a steal
They stole your stillness
And still it’s not theirs
Can you care to sit?
Can you stand to sit?
Can you stare at what sits, instead of steps, and not stop by the stairs?
They fold into
They fell in two
They feel in tune with who would dare
Never to kneel near the silver snare
There, there, they’re all there
Their wooden chairs
the last poem i wrote for creative writing before i dropped out in 2020 , not my best , just like reading it out loud , enjoy
Casey May 2019
Once upon a time,
there were 12.
12 filled chairs.
1 full table.
12 full hearts.

Then, there were 8.
4 empty chairs.
And suddenly I blinked and---

10 empty chairs.
2 empty hearts.
If you know, you know.
trf May 2018
The unscrupulous cavalry shuffled aboard narrow lanes,
Cutting in line towards Jager Bomb's tether,  
Cluttered duffel bags concealing cheap champagnes,
Passing cruise ship commuter's ruffled feathers.

With their fake, "excuse me's" en route to the bar,
Coercing the conductor who's been under the weather
With smug smiles and counterfeit Cuban cigars.

Leaving the harbor three sheets to the wind
The cowards commandeered Grandparents pool chairs,
A little past midnight with no foresight of end,
An abrupt brawl broke out, fists flying through air.

A sightseeing whale trip turned into a ship from hell,
The assailants now held in a South of Wales cell.
Have you been on a cruise ship in the past decade? *** is wrong with the public? Forget chivalry it's been deceased for years, and courtesy, ha, they can't even spell it. Tighten up muffuckrs, show some gd decency or at least a little human respect, dignity.  I have one simple rule in life, just one _ Don't be an asshole_That's all.  ~Report: "People vacationing on a Carnival cruise ship this week in the South Pacific had their trip turned upside down thanks to a series of violent brawls that seemed to transform the ship from a paradise into a fight club."
All I
Am
And
Who
Ill
Be
B
a
  l
   a
    n
     c
      e
       d
      On a
    C h a i r  

Hung   in   space

       Silence
          And
Tranquil Peace

       Frozen

    In the air




Then a
       Shift
A slight
  Movement
     From the
L
  e
    g

And my, me, myself, I,
Ends-up-turned
On the floor, ego dead.
ClawedBeauty101 Dec 2017
Sitting on my thrown... A thrown of highly stacked orange chairs, all lined up in rows...

I looked down over the world, I was higher then even the tallest of my youth.  I was no show

Simply claiming my kingdom of independence.  Sitting up and watching like a lioness in demand

In demand of discernment and wisdom, for she can't afford failing... Visitors came unplanned

Tense...unprepared for this surprise attack, my heart leaped, shock forced my body to jump down...

Down to a lower level where I rightfully belonged... The third chain of a story broke promise, the ending of one of my neck's crowns

I ran, my feet punching the ground, not noticing the trail of scatter beads that followed my every foot step...

Too tiny for anyone to notice...black..and blue.. rolling away to hide.. not knowing these people's love had no depth

The jewel of the story flying away into a corner of a memory filled hall... the chandeliers crystal whispers were heard

Ignoring the callings of my fake name... I ran into the heart of the church... rows of pews starred at me... I didn't speak a word

More beads scattered behind me, as my emotions and feelings scattered along with them.

The silence never felt so dead as I ran towards the back, my soul singing a surrendering hymn.

The two left over neck crowns mourned for their lost friend, as I mourned over the lack of knowledge of the future

  Again I heard my fake name... depression devoured my hunger in one swallow,  the beginning of a tumor

"I... I just want to do your will... other may ask for love... or comfort... or wisdom...  or answers... and that isn't bad..."

"...but all I ask and beg... is to have Your will be done... use me in anyway you see fit... it doesn't matter what I must suffer... I'll forever praise you and be glad..."

"Show me your will and way..." I confirmed... not caring if people saw me as fool of weakness and hopelessness...

I heard two sets of foot steps behind me, my skin on edge, my small cold hearted hands revealing their recklessness

Running out of the back exit, I heard my nick name again, freezing I turned around to see them panting from exhaustion

Two of my fellow followers if you will, took me captive, and reintroduced me to the loud company of people in motion

Only meaning the best, I followed them and lined up with the other Christ fighting soldiers

Hand over our hearts, I didn't feel the comforts of the third crowns jewel... my eyes scattering around the hollow gym... I saw beads roll of my shoulder...

Embarrassed... I back away from the line to wonder off alone... I left without being questioned

The beads on the floor shared with me their fears of being crushed, and loneliness. Telling me to ignore the session

Seeking around my thrown for answers... I found nothing... so off again I ran... plunging my self into the silence

My black rose laced arms cross I looked around for that bottled jewel. To it, I am a giant

More then a charm... more then something that hung around my neck... It was a story... a story that redirected my path...

The tiniest things can have the most incomparable meaning... like one of the five cities of the Philistines where Goliath came from; Gath...

Such a small detail we don't often recognize... But such a butterfly effect can create a rip the space time continuum.

I found my jewel... hiding alone in a corner in that hall that contained many beautiful moments that are anything but a residuum.

Filled with relief, I gently picked it up and hide it tightly in the palm of my hand

A little bottle filled with bird seeds and rock dove feathers, indeed it's vanity, but meanings should be scanned

Walking back to my piers,  I couldn't help but to catch some of their eyes lay on me.

I don't blame them, I made a spectacle of my self over wanting to be alone and a charm, but I had to make a plea...

Entering my self into the group, I look towards the shining silver bleachers where my two chained necklace and bottled charm laid...

Silly of my to say... but someday the third chain will be restored... but it will have a new story to proclaim...

I still could see the scattered beads, they surround the people I claimed as my home, I know each face

Yes... My emotions are in a scatter, but at least they are scatter in the same place...
I know it seems like a silly, useless, non important poem/story event to write, but I don't know. It's was just kind of funny how my emotions came in synced with the objects that are connected to my talents. Yeah it was just a simple necklace and it didn't both me that it broke. Heck I can fix it XD but the charm couldn't have been replaced.  Maybe I'll write a poem about the charm maybe it not :P. It was just a strange simple event that wasn't that big at all in the physical world, but in the mind in heart, it had a way deeper meaning. the Event wasn't even that noticeable XD but.... ehh... just kinda felt like this was something the Lord wanted me to write.
CastorPolydeuces Oct 2016
With lofty airs and
folding chairs
we formed our grungy rule,
we grew from weeds and
broken swings
into a pungent cool,
Our reign is *****, decadent
more indulgent than your dreams
for we lost our morals
and our hope among
the broken things.
Each caste has their own classes, the lowest of the low, the highest of the low, etc. I know we're pretty poor and lame, but at least we're good at it.
Viseract Apr 2016
Rielly on Wheelchairs:

"Now those are my kinda wheelz"

Me on Wheelchairs:

"The hardest part to eat when eating a vegetable"
Outta Nowhere!
Isaac Fox Dec 2014
I've left behind what was once in line,
Countless demeaning remarks,
All forgotten, except "I'm done trying."
Words won't leave you dying,
It's whats behind them that sting like poison darts.

Every morning on my way to see her, and everyone I knew,
I passed two chairs, translucent, that you could barely see through.
Looking back on it now, after all this time
I can compare the curiosity, compassion,
the peak, and downfall, line by line.

Those chairs endured the most beautiful of days,
to the days where I felt as if I were in a maze,
Lost,                         dazed
One day a chair ripped, from the foundation.
I threw away the second one along with it,
One chair was wrong for every situation.

Hours become minutes, when you embark
on each second with no intent on finding out
where you'll end up, without a doubt.
I wonder when I'll get lost,
because I'm starting to regret the price I had to pay,
by refusing to stay, would be the ultimate cost.
mark john junor Oct 2014
grey and worn
the lawn chair has dead leaves stuck to it
its one bent arm an expression of pained indifference
mud clings to its feet
and a single vine like a thin snake
wraps its way across its frame seeking the sun
i pull at it to set the chair right
to seat myself
and **** at the breeze from the open field
marvel that a cow stands not five feet away
silently watching my every move with a wary eye
lunching on the grass and ****
but the chair now uprooted from its long held position
seems more than ever a proclamation
of mans intent to be seated here on heavens lawn
clear illustration of the intent that you are supposed to
take this bent greasy seat
sit at your leasuire
in the bountiful sunshine
it is one of a dozen in the field
in this beautiful slice of heaven

the lawn chairs
litter the field like broken teeth
set in a line that wanders across the wilderness growth
each having suffered from years standing in the open field
two almost completely consumed by bushes
one had been tossed into the tree
where time had swallowed it into the bark
this broken and brutalized fence of chairs
these lawn chairs of heaven's field
sit in this beautiful place some would say eyesore
i say artwork of life's randomness...
what party of fools once sat here
dressed no doubt for the occasion
perhaps celebrating
perhaps mourning
then got up from these plastic seats
and left them behind as testament
to that forgotten day...
so i sit in heavens lawn chair
a mute salutation to my unknown compatriots
who painted this pastoral scene
of plastic in a field
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