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Memoirs of a Chair
I've weathered through countless ages,
Severed from my tree's vibrant stage.
As dead wood, I linger and gaze,
My remnants crafted into a chair's embrace.
For ages, many have sat upon my frame,
Young ones leaping, a part of their game.
Sometimes I tumble, at times I slide,
In anger, tossed to the side.
Yet within me reside the musings,
Of all who rested, in myriad choosings.
Silently, I shed unseen tears,
For my existence and all it bears.
Severed from my tree's vibrant stage.
As dead wood, I linger and gaze,
My remnants crafted into a chair's embrace.
For ages, many have sat upon my frame,
Young ones leaping, a part of their game.
Sometimes I tumble, at times I slide,
In anger, tossed to the side.
Yet within me reside the musings,
Of all who rested, in myriad choosings.
Silently, I shed unseen tears,
For my existence and all it bears.
Published 19th Jan 2024
Author's Note
In crafting "Memoirs of a Chair," I was drawn to the profound symbolism embedded in everyday objects. The chair, once part of a living tree, now stands as a silent witness to the passage of time and human experiences. As the words unfold, I invite readers to join me in contemplating the chair's journey—from the stages of life as a tree to its current role, a repository of thoughts and emotions. The poem explores the idea that even inanimate objects may carry a form of consciousness, and in their silent existence, they become vessels for memories and reflections.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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19th Jan 2024 9:11pm
After reading this philosophical musing it leaves me with the thought of a natural religion type of vibe, please allow me to explain the beliefs of its theology where some may find sacredness in man, place, or things, it is the closet to Taoism or Hinduism as possible, being everything has energy and being it does not expire, some avid religion enthusiasts actually thrive on that belief system. As for me, I see the beauty in all great and small.
Your ink spills have been a gift to DUP and any poetess who glances upon your intellectual, and yes stimulating proses will discover that as well.
Its Friday. yes, please make sure you enjoy yours, and have fantastic weekend in the making.
Your ink spills have been a gift to DUP and any poetess who glances upon your intellectual, and yes stimulating proses will discover that as well.
Its Friday. yes, please make sure you enjoy yours, and have fantastic weekend in the making.
19th Jan 2024 9:39pm
This is a beautiful comment, I am honored. Life and its purpose and the reason for existence of everything around - has always been a quest for human consciousness.
19th Jan 2024 9:48pm
hello dearest Dragon I love this as trees I believe they are sentinels I am very saddened when one of them is felled but there energy goes on...I love that you understand this concept and turned it into a thought provoking poem...
