The Hideous Chair

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1. The Table And The Chair Said the table to the chair, “You can scarcely be aware How I suffer from the heat And from blisters on my feet! If we took a little walk We might have a little talk. Pray, let us take the air!” Said the table to the chair. Said the chair unto the table, “Now you […]...
2. My Rocking-Chair When I am old and worse for wear I want to buy a rocking-chair, And set it on a porch where shine The stars of morning-glory vine; With just beyond, a gleam of grass, A shady street where people pass; And some who come with time to spare, To yarn beside my rocking-chair. Then I […]...
3. The Old Arm-chair I LOVE it, I love it ; and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair? I’ve treasured it long as a sainted prize ; I’ve bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs. ‘ Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart ; Not a tie will break, not […]...
4. The Contrast Fat lady, in your four-wheeled chair, Dolled up to beat the band, At me you arrogantly stare With gold lorgnette in hand. Oh how you differ from the dame So shabby, gaunt and grey, With legs rheumatically lame, Who steers you on your way. Nay, jewelled lady, look not back Lest you should be disturbed […]...
5. I would to heaven that I were so much clay I would to heaven that I were so much clay, As I am blood, bone, marrow, passion, feeling – Because at least the past were passed away – And for the future – (but I write this reeling, Having got drunk exceedingly today, So that I seem to stand upon the ceiling) I say – […]...
6. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
7. Every Man Should have a Rifle So I sit and write and ponder, while the house is deaf and dumb, Seeing visions “over yonder” of the war I know must come. In the corner – not a vision – but a sign for coming days Stand a box of ammunition and a rifle in green baize. And in this, the living […]...
8. The Beer Was Cold Enough It is amazing, while I lay in bed, I had the lines Roaring through my head like locusts on the wing, The unabashed extravagance of such a flock Of stunning words shocked me out of brittle sleep; And sleep avoids me now like something way too out of vogue, So I rise and try to […]...
9. Sandpipers Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes. Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles-they write in the morning, it is gone at noon-they write at noon, it is gone at night. Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and […]...
10. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
11. PUBLISHERS And then they pretend like owls With marble eyes and wizened stupidity I do not know why they cannot perceive True art But I will write Until sand evaporates And the moon consumes the sun I will write Even for the sake of art For myself and for those who feel Reading could lift them […]...
12. The Tourist From Syracuse One of those men who can be a car salesman or a tourist from Syracuse or a Hired assassin. John D. MacDonald You would not recognize me. Mine is the face which blooms in The dank mirrors of washrooms As you grope for the light switch. My eyes have the expression Of the cold eyes […]...
13. Dancer THE LADY in red, she in the chile con carne red, Brilliant as the shine of a pepper crimson in the summer sun, She behind a false-face, the much sought-after dancer, the most sought-after dancer of all in this masquerade, The lady in red sox and red hat, ankles of willow, crimson arrow amidst the […]...
14. On The Boulevard Oh, it’s pleasant sitting here, Seeing all the people pass; You beside your bock of beer, I behind my demi-tasse. Chatting of no matter what. You the Mummer, I the Bard; Oh, it’s jolly, is it not? Sitting on the Boulevard. More amusing than a book, If a chap has eyes to see; For, no […]...
15. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
16. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
17. Social Note Lady, lady, should you meet One whose ways are all discreet, One who murmurs that his wife Is the lodestar of his life, One who keeps assuring you That he never was untrue, Never loved another one. . . Lady, lady, better run!...
18. Admire their style I’m reading fellow poets’ blogs today, A sustaining source of entertainment; I admire their style without exciting comment Or resorting to an unkind eye, simple though It is to sigh about uneasy affirmation. I hope when they read me (if they ever do) They rest as easy on my lack of finished form, The hazy, […]...
19. Who is now Reading This? WHO is now reading this? May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrong-doing of my past life, Or may-be a stranger is reading this who has secretly loved me, Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with derision, Or may-be one who is puzzled at me. As if I […]...
20. Modern Love XXXVI: My Lady unto Madam My Lady unto Madam makes her bow. The charm of women is, that even while You’re probed by them for tears, you yet may smile, Nay, laugh outright, as I have done just now. The interview was gracious: they anoint (To me aside) each other with fine praise: Discriminating compliments they raise, That hit with […]...
21. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
22. Boon Soul Behold! I’m old; my hair is white; My eighty years are in the offing, And sitting by the fire to-night I sip a grog to ease my coughing. It’s true I’m raucous as a rook, But feeling bibulously “bardy,” These lines I’m scribbling in a book: The verse complete of Thomas Hardy. Although to-day he’s […]...
23. 159. Song-My Lord a-Hunting he is gane Chorus.-MY lady’s gown, there’s gairs upon’t, And gowden flowers sae rare upon’t; But Jenny’s jimps and jirkinet, My lord thinks meikle mair upon’t. My lord a-hunting he is gone, But hounds or hawks wi’ him are nane; By Colin’s cottage lies his game, If Colin’s Jenny be at hame. My lady’s gown, &c. My lady’s […]...
24. Sonnet 42 – 'My future will not copy fair my past&#039 ‘My future will not copy fair my past’- I wrote that once; and thinking at my side My ministering life-angel justified The word by his appealing look upcast To the white throne of God, I turned at last, And there, instead, saw thee, not unallied To angels in thy soul! Then I, long tried By […]...
25. The Furies Not a third that walks beside me, But five or six or more. Whether at dusk or daybreak Or at blinding noon, a retinue Of shadows that no door Excludes. One like a kind of scrawl, Hands scrawled trembling and blue, A harelipped and hunchbacked dwarf With a smile like a grapefruit rind, Who jabbers […]...
26. Pigeon THE FLUTTER of blue pigeon’s wings Under a river bridge Hunting a clean dry arch, A corner for a sleep- This flutters here in a woman’s hand. A singing sleep cry, A drunken poignant two lines of song, Somebody looking clean into yesterday And remembering, or looking clean into To-morrow, and reading,- This sings here […]...
27. Ballad Of The Despairing Husband My wife and I lived all alone, Contention was our only bone. I fought with her, she fought with me, And things went on right merrily. But now I live here by myself With hardly a damn thing on the shelf, And pass my days with little cheer Since I have parted from my dear. […]...
28. Thinking of an Afterlife When was the beginning, In the fertilising, in the flower, Or was it deeper, In the earth beneath? No end of wonderment Shall cease such a quest, Or know how it is unknowable. We gaze on our cosmos in the cusp of a bloom, To glimpse the mysterious, grasp at reality, Surrender a dearth of […]...
29. Half-waking I thought it was the little bed I slept in long ago; A straight white curtain at the head, And two smooth knobs below. I thought I saw the nursery fire, And in a chair well-known My mother sat, and did not tire With reading all alone. If I should make the slightest sound To […]...
30. Searcy Foote I wanted to go away to college But rich Aunt Persis wouldn’t help me. So I made gardens and raked the lawns And bought John Alden’s books with my earnings And toiled for the very means of life. I wanted to marry Delia Prickett, But how could I do it with what I earned? And […]...
31. THE PLAY HOUSE We had a new house And split the decorating. You took the piled rolls of paper, While I stacked the cans of gloss, One to each corner-white-what else? And when we began our slow labour We did not even sigh except in some relief In being there at last. There were no spaces for our […]...
32. The Lady's Reward Lady, lady, never start Conversation toward your heart; Keep your pretty words serene; Never murmur what you mean. Show yourself, by word and look, Swift and shallow as a brook. Be as cool and quick to go As a drop of April snow; Be as delicate and gay As a cherry flower in May. Lady, […]...
33. Amoretti III: The Sovereign Beauty The sovereign beauty which I do admire, Witness the world how worthy to be praised: The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire In my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised; That being now with her huge brightness dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view; But looking still on her, I stand […]...
34. Sonnet III THe souerayne beauty which I doo admyre, Witnesse the world how worthy to be prayzed: The light wherof hath kindled heauenly iyre, In my fraile spirit by her from basenesse raysed. That being now with her huge brightnesse dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view: But looking still on her I stand […]...
35. Sleep There was a man who didn’t know how to sleep; nodding Off every night into a drab, unprofessional sleep. Sleep that He’d grown so tired of sleeping. He tried reading The Manual of Sleep, but it just put him To sleep. That same old sleep that he had grown so tired of Sleeping. . . […]...
36. Style Flaubert wanted to write a novel About nothing. It was to have no subject And be sustained upon the style alone, Like the Holy Ghost cruising above The abyss, or like the little animals In Disney cartoons who stand upon a branch That breaks, but do not fall Till they look down. He never wrote […]...
37. Golden Days Another day of toil and strife, Another page so white, Within that fateful Log of Life That I and all must write; Another page without a stain To make of as I may, That done, I shall not see again Until the Judgment Day. Ah, could I, could I backward turn The pages of that […]...
38. Antiphon (I) Chorus: Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing ‘My God and King.’ Verse: The heav’ns are not too high, His praise may thither fly: The earth is not too low, His praises there may grow. Chorus: Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing, ‘My God and King.’ Verse: The church with psalms must […]...
39. Modern Love XXXVIII: Give to Imagination Give to imagination some pure light In human form to fix it, or you shame The devils with that hideous human game: Imagination urging appetite! Thus fallen have earth’s greatest Gogmagogs, Who dazzle us, whom we can not revere: Imagination is the charioteer That, in default of better, drives the hogs. So, therefore, my dear […]...
40. An old life Snow fell in the night. At five-fifteen I woke to a bluish Mounded softness where The Honda was. Cat fed and coffee made, I broomed snow off the car And drove to the Kearsarge Mini-Mart Before Amy opened To yank my Globe out of the bundle. Back, I set my cup of coffee Beside Jane, […]...