Chase Hunter Mar 2015

Sitting on this small park bench
waiting in the winds while the trees undress
I look for a path that could change the past

All the words I speak are just continuous ideas I seek
Planning out my future like I am supposed to know who to be

Sitting on a park bench with the Autumn leaves
conversing with myself of what I actually want and need

Well I will truly never know until I succeed
but success is just an optimist of serenity
and sometimes even greed

So for now I will just sit on this park bench
with the calm and cooling breeze
Just being happy that I am me

Amy I Hughes Sep 2013

We had a bench
Our bench
On top of a hill
The valleys, the world
Under our feet
I'd have rum n' raisin
You'd have butterscotch
We'd sit close
It was always cold
And eat our ice creams
On our bench

I went to see it today
To see if it was still there
Now that you're gone
It was
It felt bigger
Colder in everyway
Lifeless views
I stared into nothing
Until I couldn't take the chill
As I left, I looked back
Hot tears came
As I said goodbye
Now it's just a bench
Not ours

Come sit with me on the bench,

In the mid-winter summer bliss,

And walk on the back like a balance beam,

And tell me things it never seems

That you'd tell anyone but me.

Eliza Howden Oct 2012

This is for the adolescent writers, the laid-back pencil chewers, the observing wallflowers, the nose picking first graders, for the primadonnas, the narcoleptics, and the Elvis impersonators.
Come, sit on this bench with me and speak up.
This is for the jet-lagged pilots, the nose-ringed girlfriends, the perfectionist florists, the singing choir boys, the aluminum food truck drivers and their daughters, the bulimic power-lifters, the scarfed cat ladies, and the Presidential bodyguards.
Come, sit on this bench with me and speak up. This bench is saved and I have only the newspaper as my clock.
This is for the Agnostic Republicans, the illiterate immigrants, the boot wearing cowboys, and the 80 year old movie buffs. For the sweater-wearing boyfriends and the younger sisters who steal them, for the vegan dishwashers, the carnivore park rangers, and the homophobic parking meters.
Come, sit on this bench with me and tell me your stories.
This is for the effervescent pet-lovers, those majoring in Physics, Aviation, and Bubble-blowing. For the Somalian Pirates, the Chinese vendors, the Brazilian leather-workers, and the Alaskan lovers.
Come, sit on this bench with me and although I may ask for a Polaroid, the rest is yours to share.

Summer Novak Jul 2012

the benches i always sit at are as cold as ice.
their metal structures scream at me to get off of them…

to leave them be and let them rust in silence and in solitude.
and i oblige to the request

Bathsheba Nov 2010

Day in
Day out
He sits on his bench
No one goes near him
Because of the stench
White Lightening
I watch from my window
It’s really not fair

So … I put on my coat

Open the door
Cross over the road
Step up to the fore
I tap him gently
Take his hand
Silently lead him
To my witness stand
As soon as were in
My head’s in a spin
Unsure what to do

Please … Give me a clue?

He then sits
On my threadbare chair
Looks deep in my eyes
So much love
There to share
My lips start to smile
He touches my heart
At last I’ve discovered
My own golden cart
He imparts me with tales
Of a life filled with pain
Not looking for sympathy
For the dragons he’s slain
He just wants to talk
Connect with another
Before long I realise
This man is my brother

My brother in arms
My lost fellow man
My point of existence
My part in the plan

This wretched man
Has set me free
To live this life
With empathy
My heart is open
My pot is full
I now have the courage
Of a
Sitting Bull
I thank my guest
And he thanks me
I invite him back
He doffs his hat
He smirks that smirk
I just know
Our love will work

Day in
Day out
He sits on his bench
No one goes near him
Because of the stench
White Lightening
I watch from my window
It’s really not fair

Snakano Jan 2013

Sometimes you feel
                                    left out.
Watching people from the side,
                                              at the end.
"I need some water!"
Let me get that for you.
                                    Because I'm at the end.
Waiting anxiously
                          at the end of the bench.
Wait. Here he comes!
"Go in."
Oh. He wasn't talking to me.
Watching people from the side,
                                               at the end.
Sometimes you feel
                              left out.

i'm at the edge
and it is impossible for me
to give space to you
because if i do
i may fall



It's me,
the bench

The one who
let you nestle
your scraped knee
atop my wooden boards

The bench
that watched your parents
interlock their lips
from prom to
the sound of bells
those wedding bells

The bench
who would adorn
your family

the bench
who would mourn
your family

I have almost
withered away now
time is almost over now

But replacements are fine
I see a badge on this new bench
"Dedicated to you and your family."

I am happy now
I can die in piece now

I am the bench
and I loved you so

Amitav Radiance Oct 2014

Started walking along the path
Where life was leading me
Towards a destination chosen
Not chosen by me
But was willingly following
To a predefined destination
Then I came along a bench
Weary I was travelling
The bench gave me respite
From the grueling march
I inspected the torn soles
As the pebbles were hurting my feet
Bleeding profusely
I thanked the bench
Where I could now rest for the night
Lying on my back
I connected the dots on the night canopy
Slumber took over
Dreams of a new road, I could see
Sleeping off the weariness
I woke up to a new day
The bench which taught me to wait
Another destination chosen by me
Clouds have cleared away
I knew the path to walk along
I was a traveler with purpose
My destination, waiting for me

Tark Wain Sep 2014

I sit here everyday
people pass, people visit
rarely do they speak when they do
imagine that
two people connected by something
yet they can not find the words to communicate
TALK i want to scream
but i can not

for I am just a bench

Jennifer Lynn Jun 2012

There is a bench in the back of my mind,
Where I like to come and sit.
Where the winds of my thoughts blow gently about,
but I don't have to
think about it.

I sit on this bench in a garden so sweet,
it smells of honey and dew;
the fragrance of dreams billows quietly here,
And I like smelling the roses,

I come to this bench when I am angry or sad,
When I'd rather search clouds for shapes;
I grow trees in abundance and let honeybees roam,
mend broken ideas wrapped
'round old tapes.

This bench is my place for when I must hide -
Secret safe nobody shall find.
I surround it with good things and breaths of fresh air,
this bench at the back
of my mind.

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