#chair
A shadow sits
A glow emits
Rocking back and
Forth
Rocking
A creaking
By the door
In the corner
It sits
In the corner
It fits
The glow that
Emits
is burrowing heavier
As the sun lets down
As the sun shines down
Shining with no crown
Rocking back and forth
Shadows
Hit the door
It does not notice
It does not stop
The world begins a plot
Devils in angels cloaks
Children with nowhere to go
Agony and despair
Lurking everywhere
Not in a secret lair
In your face
In your
Rocking chair
Creaking
The wood chips
Eerie some would say
But it simply fits
The corner is where it
Likes to remain
Empty with
Nothing to retain
Rocking
Back and forth
Like it's chained
To the door
On the floor
The wood below
Splits and tears
It's bare
It's come undone
Splinters hit and prickle
Bleed like a whistle
The sun sets
The shadows turn
Darkness emerges
It gives into it's
Simple urges
Rocking faster
Back and forth
Rocking
Rocking
It knows nothing
More
Like a chore
Or a need
It does it
Til it bleeds
Some may say
A ghost fits this
Way
A ghost sits there
Forcing the chair
Back and forth
Singling
A note
Of
Beware
There is no ghost
There is no host
It remains empty
It creaks
And knows
No plenty
It knows
Not where to go
Lost in this life
Of touch and
Go
It rocks
In it's corner
It hears knocks
And it fears not
It simply
Goes
With no ghost
No host
No shadow
Anymore
Darkness has befallen
On the wooden arm rests
The seat one may lay to rest
Is empty
No light
No shine
Only time
Passes by
In this
Hellish corner
Of
Mine
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 5:04 PM UTC
In every house, there is a forgotten chair
resting quietly in the corner of the soul,
waiting for a gentle presence
to sit upon it and say:
“Come…
Place your weary hand in mine.
Let us walk together toward the lantern of safety.”
Yet the seasons turned like dervishes,
years dissolved into dust and prayer,
and no one came to occupy that sacred seat.
The chair remained empty,
like a heart awaiting revelation.
So now I understand:
the one I was waiting for
was hidden inside my own chest all along.
It is time for me
to sit upon that chair myself,
to become mercy for my own wounds,
light for my own darkness,
and companion to the lonely traveler within me.
For perhaps the Beloved delays certain arrivals
only to teach the soul
how to become a sanctuary for itself.
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 6:11 PM UTC
"Rip. Rip. Tear." A heavy, shallow breath. A cut. An unfathomable emotion. The deeper the nail can pierce the wood, the more the structure can stabilize.
The chair.
The moonlit window.
His ghost still holds the rope of the noose over the distended veins and arteries of his transparent throat; swallowing the afflictions that sink far below what sanity could reach.
One last time, he smiles and waves at the crowd.
"This was my grand finale." ☻𓍯
May 11
May 11, 2026 at 2:41 PM UTC
Once when my Dad was alive we bought him a footstool as a present
So he could put his feet up on it
But our cat... he had other ideas
It wasn't long before he took over the footstool and that became his chair
He'd lie there sprawled out over the footstool right next to the radiator
And sometimes when my Dad would get up to go to the loo
The cat he'd get up and jump up into my Dad's chair
Yea he'd even take over my Dad's chair
He'd roll up in a ball there
So when my Dad would come back he'd have to go and find somewhere else to sit
You couldn't disturb the cat, he was like a royal personage in our house, a real character, he was King
It always used remind me of the old Flintstones cartoons
At the end when the credits are rolling it shows the Flintstones coming home from a night out
When they go in the house Fred puts the big Sabre tooth cat outside on the doorstep
But then the Sabre tooth cat jumps in through the window
And puts Fred out on the doorstep ha! ha!
I always thought That's brillant, that really catches the essence of a Cat
They have such a wonderful sense of importance and entitlement
Hail! Hail the Cat! 😺
Oct 25, 2024
Oct 25, 2024 at 1:15 PM UTC
Raw, with a backrest,
without upholstery,
it doesn’t catch the eye
until you discover
its quiet advantages.
Stable, smelling of the forest,
it accepts your sighs,
lets you freeze in stillness,
look for shelter
from reality
that rushes like a train.
Sometimes it creaks,
but grows brittle with time,
drilled by woodworms,
not protected,
and yet it serves.
As years pass
it gets drier,
splinters get into the skin,
the forest smell fades,
disappears
in everyday life.
In the end
thrown out or burned,
whatever is left
loses meaning.
The last memory:
hard discomfort,
and the eyes look
for soft support,
new arms.
Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 8:05 AM UTC
One day I will wake up and open the door,
Unsteady light from the morning shine
uncomplicated naked foot without a roar,
Start walking on the highway and to the woods
Calm and steady step after step.
Dry my tears only beatitude kept.
Vally or narrow course, way to another way.
Already I have extensive rest and sleep beyond.
My hair will be dancing across the gale
endlessly, under the sun and pale.
Rocky Cliffs or the sounded sea,
Endlessly time after time and obviously cannot be.
Midnight stars or moonless sky,
Open my door and I will try.
reminiscence and my old dreams,
Will be left and make stalwart brings.
open my path and stroll,
Never fell enfeeble after all.
Not glancing back at where my old life left
Season after season on the way I felt.
Crossing dark forest or the big bay
Already I rested for a long and slept.
Want to walk alone on the lonely road,
Will be happy and never feel bored.
Thousand years I am in sleep,
The roof is always in my eyes, waiting for the final vise.
A chair fitted with wheels,
Keeping a hope that one day I will rise.
Nov 10, 2025
Nov 10, 2025 at 1:17 AM UTC
You told me stories
But never lies
You painted the tapestry
Of my mind
Rocking me to sleep in sunshine
Waking me up to see the moon bright
Look my love, look at it
Its a beaming lumen
Just like you
I smiled ever so lovely
Trying to match your face with mine
Hold me in your arms again
Like the paint that clings to art
Don't let me go
Please, dont let go
You changed my world
With your colors
Now I see what it all means
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 12:03 PM UTC
I am a chair.
People sit on me every day.
I feel the weight on my shoulders.
The heavy burden I must carry.
As I try my hardest,
Not to break.
Aug 29, 2024
Aug 29, 2024 at 2:47 PM UTC
Love is a loaner armchair
Low enough to relax me
Built to embrace me
With arms that support me
While I return to my book
And sup hot tea
Aug 24, 2024
Aug 24, 2024 at 8:38 AM UTC
I watched the skyline from the sea shore.
Staying seated on my comfy chair,
Behaving as if I didn’t care.
I still wanted to go to a new place,
Where I'd be loved,
And I'd be respected.
I realised that I must break the chains,
And I must surf the waves,
For I wanted to have new horizons.
Aug 24, 2024
Aug 24, 2024 at 2:09 AM UTC
Letting human souls
Born to be noble
Rot out with ugly goals
Trouble of all troubles
May 29, 2021
May 29, 2021 at 6:12 PM UTC
..............there’s such a clamour
so much choring
memory thread
I sit
armchair
rocking head
receiver of motion
bleaker of putty trauma
creator of mammary craving
.....best take up knitting or wood carving
the fortress of thought
(in strict connivance with a bewildered host)
compiles the 'person idea'
protects the fragile calculator
from biting at its own exposed
and useless self mating psychology
from glutting on its own tail
and merry going mad
in a tune of hoops...
..stammering to achieve valuation
for our decent management
projector
may you continue operations falser still
defeating our own polygraphs and making fools of our internal courtrooms
i sit on this chair
things go still
thoughts occur elsewhere
am i left to not be ?....................
May 11, 2021
May 11, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
hitting myself in
the head with a chair leg i
sit on bathroom floor
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 10:19 PM UTC
i am lying on my stomach
after having spent hours propped up on my elbows
spent hours reading, sunbathing
spent hours getting drunk and tired in the sun
i am outside our new chicago home
in a courtyard belonging to only us
i am sprawled on the transparent blue plastic of my past
the cerulean beach chair that never made it to a single beach.
its plastic wound and woven around the metal
like nothing i’ve ever seen before
and i fall asleep
and i’m awakened by the raindrops on the low of my bare back
but it is not raining
and i wake up naked, inside, in your arms as you tap out a tune on me
and the blue chair that we put in the shower
when my brother was too weak to stand
because my brother was too weak to stand
is nowhere to be found
even when he went to live in the hospital
that chair
gathered rust
in a closed, dripping shower
we threw it out
it reminded us of a hard time
he was our only surviving souvenir
i miss the chair
and i miss the person he was before it all
before he gathered all this rust
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 3:21 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel small and alone
Intoxication will beckon me home
Only find there is nobody there
An empty glass and emptier chair
Maybe if I had not treated them so bad
Loved ones I would HAVE
Instead of HAD
Dec 10, 2020
Dec 10, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC
-
Greetings,
I am the empty chair you just recently
pushed into the carport like some unruly
child made to stand in a corner.
Not a new chair for sure,
but you made me _Your_ chair
by the force of gravity,
transforming my cushion into
perfect contours in the image
of your ***
Though you were always careful
if crumbs fell into me to get up
and brush them away,
and instead of just plopping down
hard on me, you sat gentle and easy,
even if only doing so to soften the
shock for yourself,
there were moments as you sipped beer
you let it slip through your bottom lip,
dripping on me with bitter aftertaste.
Still, I was forgiving of that, and even
to those numerous occasions of you
venting your evening meals.
But the one event that forever sullied our
personal relationship was the morning you
woke on me soaked in most of the past
evening's
~~brew
Though you tried to patch things up
with towels and scented sprays,
we were never to look upon
one another with the
same recognition
again.
I know now the days for me here number
far less than the buttons of the controller
you so frequently lost between my cushions,
giggling me in your efforts to retrieved it.
Although our separation will mean for me a
transformation into a twisted pile of springs,
stuffing, splinters and ripped cloth within the
bucket jaws of a front end loader in the snow,
I can take some comfort with me to the
resting pits of jettisoned human folly that
our severance was of no fault of my own.
yours truly,
Chair...
s jones
2007-2020
.
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 8:13 AM UTC
_In an open hut
There was a hole in the roof
from which sunlight comes on hut.
In every evening
sitting on the wooden chair in front of hole
i thought my past and future
i cried loudly
My soul was dead for two moments of happiness
My tears was red like blood
Who started falling on the ground every evening
By din't of this
Earth crust is like red.
One evening
Again i sit on my wooden chair
suddenly,
Clouds started thundering ...
lightning started shining...
Hut started moving...
Cloud started like raining...
i was lost in my memories
i cried,and tears like blood.
But that evening,
my tears become colorless due to rain drop
Red "danger color" disappeared
for few moments
I feel that...my past sorrowful memories
Are flow like water
suddenly,
A new thought come on my mind,
that is filled with my sweet memories,
Of past and future which gives me happiness._
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 10:49 AM UTC
carved from rosewood and once heavily polished,
it now crumbled beneath a mountainous tomb
of collector's items,
stained blankets,
abandoned food,
and stuffed animals from a childhood long gone.
an artifact crucified by material obsession
aching to be reborn.
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 11:14 PM UTC
With leather clad hands
and old plastic sheets
he makes up the reasons
for the people he meets.
They'll feel nothing's wrong
for he sings a sweet song
where false promises are made
with a smile from a blade.
And on a cold knife night
he'll extinguish their light
as they struggle for air,
for their pain
is longer than
the chair.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 1:23 AM UTC