Forgive me for all the mischievous prank calls. In wedded bliss when passions flowed two people alone in honeymoon glow Flammable pleasure, ignitable moments to treasure, we did love, we did fight, You and I. The Soul selects her own Society — Then — shuts the Door — To her divine Majority — Present no more — Unmoved — she notes the Chariots — pausing — At her low Gate — Unmoved — an Emperor be kneeling Upon her Mat — I've known her — from an ample nation — Choose One — Then — close the Valves of her attention — It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. Suddenly my eyes burst open shattering the dreamlike images. Maybe you should take it, I don't know what else to do. Copyright © Year Posted 2011.
For all my years when I'd come home there'd always be a chair And through the windows you could see my father sitting there It's where he took his phone calls and watched his favorite shows It's even where he ate and slept when he felt the need to doze The chair became an icon, familiar to our eyes To see him there at any time was never a surprise Then one day when I came home I found he wasn't there Never again would I come back to find him in his chair They said that he'd gone quietly, his face was smooth with peace But even words of comfort couldn't put my heart at ease. Get a g by WorksOfGath Books Authors alphabetically: Problem with this page? I'm very glad to have it and the comfort that I find, When I lay back in his chair, gives me peace of mind. Is that all you got? Throughout this rollercoaster of a life, Baxter was prolific with his poetry and in his lifetime 35 different collections were published, with more posthumously. I sits on all of 'em fair and square, And that is reason it don't break down. People came to pay respects and share their memories They came with food and flowers, it was like it never ceased. The children gone and the house deserted alone again with our quality time protected. This rocking chair, my temper, that sometimes I must sit in and you'll notice that the varnish of my patience has worn thin.
An image of his youth by a river and with the wind blowing is connected with the current sound of waves, seen as the voices of ghosts beckoning him to his end. That one small window by the beam lets my faith's light shine in I'm sorry it's not brighter, window dirty from past sin. I still watch your videos so I may always remember your voice, rewind…play…rewind…play… I hope to never forget, somewhere way deep down I realize you always had a choice, now I live in this depressing world full of sorrow and regret. I'm very glad to have it and the comfort that I find, When I lay back in his chair, gives me peace of mind. This poem pays tribute to a grandfather who was never really loved, but was still respected.
These top poems in list format are the best examples of rocking chair poems written by PoetrySoup members Search for Rocking Chair poems, articles about Rocking Chair poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Rocking Chair poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page. The grandson does not want to consider his grandfather to have lived an empty life or to think he died full of regret and feeling he had lived life the wrong way. And I'll live here too Until the last salty drop Lands on the final page. They stood by the graveside From his bitter veins born And mourned him in their fashion. A brief stint lecturing for a university was followed by the decision based on a dream to give up everything, except for his bible, and head out to a small Maori settlement called Jerusalem. Practiced Passion Contest November 18, 2016 Copyright © Year Posted 2016 Rocking Chair Poem Such explosions of love ecstatic from fumbling youths and naive romantics. He visits when I'm sleeping, in my dreams I see him there No matter what you'll find him always sitting in that chair.
I wants all four of 'em under me-- Priests and People and Lords and Crown. Copyright © Year Posted 2011 Rocking Chair Poem C'mon you ole devil, take your best shot! It simply happens when your child has a child. ~~~~~ Copyright © Year Posted 2011 Rocking Chair Poem Your house still smells like you: Warm shortbread and lavender soap - Comforting and agonizing. He knew in the hour he died That his heart has never spoken In eighty years of days. Christmas comes and presents pile around Her chair; she sees the paper, shining, colors bright; She reaches for the red, the blue, the white. Smoldering fires of love and reined in emotions, memorising every tryst with pledges of devotions.
And the reality breaks me. The funeral was lovely, I said my final words And from wherever he had gone I hoped that he had heard. We went through his belongings and separated out his stuff Some went to the mission and the rest belonged to us I took the things I wanted and put them in a box From college papers that he'd written to his favorite pair of socks. Want to review or comment on this poem? Flashbacks of the appalling last few weeks of your short life, all the mania, car accident while drinking and driving, you left us all tortured from your loss and ruined your wife, this is why my pen flows freely as I continue my writing. During his studies he became an alcoholic and dropped out before finishing. I sits on all of 'em fair and square, And that is reason it don't break down.
He can no longer carry trees and slice turf, in fact he can no longer walk or be active in any way and is evidently frail and in decline as he seeks constant warmth from the fire. The family gathers for the festive meal, She will not leave her chair, her treasured place, The never-ceasing motion of her private race. The poem, however, seems to suggest the deceased was a difficult person to get on with and never really open with his family. It happens when you get off your easy chair and make the effort to see what matters to your grandchild. My tv tray and rocking chair have grown to be my special writing desk and throne. It is the heart of the poem, it forces the reader to contemplate the dangers of pride and being too afraid to admit to our mistakes and demonstrates the regret not only of the deceased, but also the family who were never allowed in emotionally because of the stubbornness of pride.