No-nonsense chair, it solidly graces
The kitchen-hearth corner, cushioned, prepared
For heavy or lightweight to try pacing
It's movement of hypnotic rock, shared
By centuries now of differing sized hands.
It glows with polish, asthmatically groans
When abused, but some carpenter planned
This object of strength. Time-capsule, honed
By soothed memory, embedded there by
Stories unfolded while rocking. Moments
Soporificly sped. Plans quietly vyed
With family security and found pent
Up in this chair. Stroke it and feel vibrant
Lives striving for betterment, realized
Hopes all float here in distressed wood, dyed
In somnolent rhythm so greatly prized.
Phantom faces flicker in it's depth, will
They share more secrets if I sit still?
Fay, A beautiful poem to craftsmen. The next time I make a piece, I will think of this poem
Created to last by a craftsman, Absorbed family history and will continue to do so. Not of this throw away world. You describe it well I can easily visualise it. The flashy modern furniture of today will never become antiques and sibject of a poets inspiration
Well, I was expecting a tale about a leather glad rocker :)
Brilliant piece of poetry Fay outstanding, its a question of read and learn with your work 10 ++++ Chris
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brilliant imagery used here...really nice write Fay...thank you