The lonely old lady
She sits in her favourite chair
her dog lies by her slippered feet
a cup of tea in an arthritic hand.
The television is on in the corner
she sees it as a very close friend
talking to the newsreader about her day.
She stares over at the telephone
praying that someone will call
it hasn't rung for a long time.
The postman has just been
she wishes he'd come in for a chat
but people are so busy these days.
The pretty weather girl is talking
it's going to be a hot and sunny day
the old lady tells her she looks nice.
Struggling to get to her aching feet
she looks out of her living room window
people and cars go quickly by.
Sitting back down in her favourite chair
she bends to pick up her little dog
and stroking him she starts to cry.
The old lady died in her favourite chair
her little dog sat for weeks by her slippered feet
the postman kept pushing the mail through.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
In Your Room
In your room
Where time stands still
Or moves at your will
Will you let the morning come soon
Or will you leave me lying here
In your favourite darkness
Your favourite half-light
Your favourite consciousness
Your favourite slave
In your room
Where souls disappear
Only you exist here
Will you lead me to your armchair
Or leave me lying here
Your favourite innocence
Your favourite prize
Your favourite smile
Your favourite slave
I'm hanging on your words
living on your breath
feeling with your skin
Will I always be here
In your room
Your burning eyes
Cause flames to arise
Will you let the fire die down soon
Or will I always be here
Your favourite passion
Your favourite game
Your favourite mirror
Your favourite slave
I'm hanging on your words
living on your breath
feeling with your skin
Will I always be here
song performed by by Zeraphine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goodby Mass
Sitting on a hard chair try to sit straight
Sitting on a hard chair this moment won't wait
Listening to the speakers they're talking about you
Look at all the people all the people you know
Sitting with my back straight it becomes hard to hear
Some people are crying it becomes hard to hear
I don't think you'd have liked it you would have made a joke
You would have made it easier you'd say "tomorrow I'm smoke"
Sitting on a hard chair how far we have come
Trying hard to listen to your friends who have come
Some of them are famous and some are just like me
Trying hard to listen trying hard to see
Sitting in a hard chair it's over time to stand
Some people are crying I turn to grab your hand
It's your daughter saying thank you
You, you would have made a joke
"Isn't this something," you say, "tomorrow I'm smoke
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goodby Mass - In A Chapel Bodily Termination
Sitting on a hard chair try to sit straight
Sitting on a hard chair this moment wont wait
Listening to the speakers theyre talking about you
Look at all the people all the people you knew
Sitting with my back straight it becomes hard to hear
Some people are crying it becomes hard to hear
I dont think youd have liked it you would have made a joke
You would have made it easier youd say tomorrow Im smoke
Sitting on a hard chair how far we have come
Trying hard to listen to your friends who have come
Some of them are famous and some are just like me
Trying hard to listen trying hard to see
Sitting in a hard chair its over time to stand
Some people are crying I turn to grab your hand
Its your daughter saying thank you, you, you would have made a joke
Isnt this something, you say, tomorrow Im smoke
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cogitation
if this chair does not exist
will i, this, chair, me, who asks,
if this chair, exists at all,
can i, exist, too? will i be dependent
on the thought of a chair
a thought of me that i think i
can touch, that i think thoughts
touching this thought of a chair
does the chair think about me,
i ask, looking for that therefore
beside the chair that i thought
is a chair, that i thought is I,
am, therefore, a chair, thinking
chair, on four feet?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Arrow The Chair And The Falling Star
the chair is silent
it has feet but it does not leave
it screeches sometimes
because you are heavy
with your load (this burden
this baggage of the
soul)
the chair faces the sea
because your finger points to
a falling star
and the chair like you
makes a wish
like you
it wishes that the moon
may soon have lips
that you can
kiss throughout the night
unlike you
the chair never dreams of arms.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Time To Relax
Ah, its time to relax and you know what that means a glass of wine,
Your favourite easy chair and of course this compact disc
Playing on your home stereo. so go on indulge yourself, thats right,
Kick off your shoes, put your feet up, lean back and and just enjoy
The melodies. after all, music soothes even the savage beast....
song performed by by Offspring
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Musical Send Off
As the funeral came to a close
his favourite record was played out loud
All Right Now by Free was his song
I'm sure his feet were tapping under his shroud.
Which made me think about my ending
and what tune would I like to pick?
it would have to be something lively
one with a nice beat and a kick.
Highway to Hell by ACDC would be bad
as that could be really tempting fate
Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum
now that would sound awesome and great.
Classical music would be too sombre
and have me turning in my grave
Stairway to Heaven by Zeppelin is better
but please no Rap, Disco, or Rave.
Something by the Beatles would be nice
or Yesterday or maybe even Hey Jude,
but definetly not the track called Help!
and a sexy song would just sound rude,
In the end I'd probably stick with a hymn
and select my favourite Amazing Grace
because I'm sure it's the Lords favourite
as after all he wrote it for all the human race.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Chair
We sat at the table talking
when we noticed from the corner of our eyes
the door seemed to open and close again.
No one took much notice of it;
each thinking it was a draft that had caught it.
Then we watched amazed
as the chair at the far end of the room
began to move on its own.
Each time it caught our attention the chair stopped.
Turning back to our conversation
from the corner of our eyes,
we watched the chair move again.
Each time it inched closer
towards the table where we sat.
Our guests and we were hypnotised
by the spectacular of the moving chair.
We had lived here for many years
and nothing like this had ever happened before.
We all watched intently the chair
with not a word being spoken.
Whatever was moving it
could clearly not be seen.
Someone smiled and said,
“That is a neat trick you must tell us all
just how you’ve done it.”
I shook my head and replied,
“It is not us doing this.”
Faces paled at the thought
of the chair moving on its own.
The chair then stopped
and the outline of a figure appeared,
its eyes were flaming red
and it stared intently at us all.
“Who are you? ” Someone asked.
“Who do you wish I be? ” The reply came
from a voice that seemed to surround us.
You could see the fear begin to inherit everyone’s eyes
as the eyes of whatever looked around at everyone.
A crackling laughter then arose.
“Who are you? ” I asked,
“You are frightening everyone.
I tell you now you were not invited;
your presence is not welcome here.
Be gone I say, be gone and leave us in peace.”
The flaming eyes stared at me
as if to devour my soul.
Outside a lightning bolt struck,
its explosion made us jump.
When we looked back,
the chair was where it should be
and the flaming red eyes were gone.
Was this an hallucination
or did we really see a ghost.
Whatever, when we returned to talking,
we abandoned the conversation
of strange phenomena we were discussing
before our encounter.
15 November 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Veronica
Is it all in that pretty little head of yours?
What goes on in that place in the dark?
Well I used to know a girl and I would have
Sworn that her name was veronica
Well she used to have a carefree mind of her
Own and a delicate look in her eye
These days Im afraid shes not even sure if her name is veronica
Chorus:
Do you suppose, that waiting hands on eyes,
Veronica has gone to hide?
And all the time she laughs at those who shout her name and steal her clothes
Veronica
Veronica
Did the days drag by? did the favours wane?
Did he roam down the town all the time?
Will you wake from your dream, with a wolf at
The door, reaching out for veronica
Well it was all of sixty-five years ago
When the world was the street where she lived
And a young man sailed on a ship in the sea
With a picture of veronica
On the empress of india
And as she closed her eyes upon the world and
Picked upon the bones of last weeks news
She spoke his name outloud again
Chorus
Veronica sits in her favourite chair and she sits
Very quiet and still
And they call her a name that they never get
Right and if they dont then nobody else will
But she used to have a carefree mind of her
Own, with devilish look in her eye
Saying you can call me anything you like, but
My name is veronica
Chorus
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vissions From My Window
Pollution, death and dispair
vissions from my window, sitting on my chair
Endless disease surrounds our air
vissions from my window, sitting on my chair
Every minute gone by, worser conditions
many believe, they are solved with petitions
Lesser accolades, for a job well done
hospitality fading, generosity gone
Tensions growing, can be cut with a knife
education failing, changing our life
Brung on by people who do not care
brung on by people who wont play fair
Vissions from my window, sitting on my chair.
poem by White Tiger
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Thw Musical Lady
The Musical Lady
I knew of a pavement café where tables and chairs were painted
in different colours, this to lend ambience in an otherwise dreary
street. A young lady, a student at the music conservatorium, came
here for lunch and always insisted on sitting on the same chair,
a rosa one; she was pretty in stern way, long black dress, flat shoes,
plain long hair and big glasses, waiters were happy to oblige her.
This caused jalousie amongst other chairs that wanted her to sit on
them too. In the night they ganged up on the rosa one, upended it
and scratched badly. The owner thought it was the work of vandals,
put the damage chair in the store room, but when the musical lady
came she insisted to sit on her chair damaged or not. Other seats
felt bad realizing it was not the rosa’s fault but the idiosyncrasy of
the artist, so in the night the spruced up the rosa till it looked as new.
But now the pianist didn’t want it, not the same as before, she said
and sat on a yellow chair. Feeling a miffed the gleaming new looking
seat said to itself: “No big shake she had a narrow, cold bum anyway.”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Chair Don't make the Man
People see me in this chair and whisper look at that poor man over there. They believe my life is wasted all because I’m in this chair. Well I got some to say that I want you all to hear. Just like clothes don’t really make a man neither does a chair. The chair is just what I use to get me for here to there. Just like people who walk use their legs to get them everywhere. Because besides the chair I’m just like you; I laugh, I cry and yes I have sex too. Now that you all know the next time you see me don’t whisper look at that poor man over there. In fact don’t say anything just remember the chair don’t make the man.
Cold Feet
He just turned seventeen
When the moment came
He was standing on the corner
In the pouring rain
She pulled up along side
And rolled the window down
And said can I drive you
To some part of town
Hes sitting beside her
With a great big smile
The lady had class
It stood out a mile
His heart was beating
Like a big bass drum
Thinking at last
His time had finally come
He started talkin fast
Trying to loosen up
But he just felt kinda stupid
So he shut up
She said dont think Im fast
cause Im really not
But his fever went all wild
It was getting hot
She pulled into the driveway
Of a big brown stone
He was champing at the bit
And then her heart be told
She said my husbands working
Hell be gong all day
But he couldnt believe it
When he heard himself say
Im getting cold feet
Im getting cold feet
Lady dont ya hear me talking to you
Hey theres something that you can do
Im so nervous I just might shoot you
Ive got them cold, cold feet
Well a couple years on
And our heros grown
Hes a professional musician
With a band of his own
Hadnt had much luck
With the girls that he meets
Might get another case of terminal cold feet
He met a girl not too long ago
She thought she could change him
But it wasnt so
As soon as she mentioned long term romance
He went into that same old song and dance
Im getting cold feet
C-c-c-c-c- cold feet
Im getting cold feet
C -c-c-c-c- cold feet
Mamma dont ya hear me talkin to you
No aint there something that you can do
Im so nervous I just might shoot you
Ive got cold, cold, cold, cold
Upset about it
Cold, cold, cold, cold
You know I gottem
Cold, cold, cold, cold
Said Ive got them cold, cold feet
He increased his quota
Of one night stands
It was kind of a complex
You understand
He would treatem real mean
He was low down and dirty
Now hes gotta make some changes
Cause hes nearly thirty
Cause see he had a dream
Just the other night
He was standing in gods ever present light
And God said, Id like to let your life run its coarse
But youd understand Im having second thoughts
Im getting cold feet
C-c-c-c- cold feet
Im getting cold feet
C-c-c-c- cold feet
Richard dont ya here me talking to you
I think you know what you have to do
You gotta make some changes
You got them
Cold, cold, cold, cold
Theyre getting rigid
Cold, cold, cold, cold
Youre getting frigid
Cold, cold, cold, cold
I said you got them cold, cold feet
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady Day
When she walked on down the street
She was like a child staring at her feet
But when she passed the bar
And she heard the music play
She had to go in and sing
It had to be that way
She had to go in and sing
It had to be that way
And I said no, no, no
Oh, lady day
And I said no, no, no
Oh, lady day
After the applause had died down
And the people drifted away
She climbed down off the bar
And went out the door
To the hotel
That she called home
It had greenish walls
A bathroom in the hall
And I said no, no, no
Oh, lady day
And I said no, no, no
Oh, lady day
I said no, no, no
Oh, lady day
And I said no, no, no
Oh, lady day
And I said no, no, no
Oh, lady day
I said no, no, no
Oh, lady day
And I said no, no, no
Oh, lady day
And I said no, no, no
Oh, lady day
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreamin'
If I close my eyes I see your face and I'm not without you
If I trying hard and concentrate I can still hear you speak
I picture myself in your room by the chair
you're smoking a cigarette
If I close my eyes I can see your face you're saying, "I missed you"
Dreamin' - I'm always dreamin'
If I close my eyes I can smell your perfume you look and say "Hi baby"
If I close my eyes pictures from China still hang from the wall
I hear the dog bark I turned and say, "what were you saying?"
I pictured you in the red chair inside the pale room
You sat in your chair with a tube in your arm - you were so skinny
You were still making jokes I don't know what drugs they had you on
You said, " I guess this is not the time for long term investments"
You were always laughing but you never laughing at me
They say in the end the pain was so bad that you were screaming
Now you were no saint but you deserved better than that
From the corner I watch them moving things from your apartment
But I can picture you red chair and pale room inside my head
If I close my eyes I see your face and I'm not without you
If I try hard and concentrate I can gear your voice saying,
"Who better than you"
If I close my eyes I can't believe that I'm here without you
Inside your pale room your empty red chair and my head
Dreamin' , I'm always dreamin'
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Rocking Chair
An old rocking chair
stands on the porch.
Many times I sit there
watching people go on their way.
Occasionally one or two
will stop and talk about the day.
We’ll sit and rock,
chatting about the weather
and about kids and home.
All the time
the old rocking chair
rocks back and forth
with me sitting there.
6 March 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Albatre
This lady in the white bath-robe which she calls a
peignoir,
Is, for the time being, the mistress of my friend,
And the delicate white feet of her little white dog
Are not more delicate than she is,
Nor would Gautier himself have despised their contrasts
in whiteness
As she sits in the great chair
Between the two indolent candles.
poem by Ezra Pound
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People from a world corner
The worst poverty in the world
The worst discrimination in the world
While people thinking about Global Warming
Corner people thinking how to survive
Corner people struggling one day by one day
While people living in the rocket age
Corner people walking miles to miles for one day survive
Corner people surprising whenever a plane is flying
While people thinking about living on other planets
Corner people crying to get a four feet square area
Corner people watering their blood for a four feet squares area
While people thinking about homosexual marriage
Corner people giving their lives for saving their children
Corner people growing never ever seeing their parents
While people thinking about which food is the best in the world
Corner people running thousand miles to get a few rice
Corner people dying lack of food and water
While people thinking about legalization of prostitution
Corner people not knowing what is the law
Corner people never seeing decided by a just justice
Corner people are not people!
Corner people are not from this world!
I would wonder............
poem by Zaw Myat Htoo
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You know the first time I sat in the chair I felt anything but up, it was very emotional for me. I had a chair in my hotel room, a chair at rehearsal, and I was trying to spend as much time as I could in the chair.
quote by Gregory Hines
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Expensive Chair - Its A Beautiful Thing B-side
Your face is looking like
Someone you forgot you used to know
You were looking for rhymes and reason
They forgot the things you used to know
You came to rely on good fortune
Your mothers screaming low
With the sky in the eye
And jump through the window
Youve made your own room at the top
Well its getting thin on air
Still you look at me from your most expensive chair
And when youre feeling fit to drop
And you find theres no one there
Still you look at me from your most expensive chair
You dont wanna shout about it
When theres nothing you care to know
Your friends they just laugh about it
In the places that you never go
You cannot deny your good fortune
Your friends they wont let go
See your hair is in place
And see away from the window
Repeat chorus
Youre the judge how high it hangs
When your castles made of sand
Because the people who kill the king
Are the people who move from within
You cant rely on good fortune
Your friends are crying low
Kick your feet from the chair
And let it slip from the gallow
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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