The Cane-Bottom'd Chair
In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars,
And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars,
Away from the world, and its toils and its cares,
I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs.
To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure,
But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure;
And the view I behold on a sunshiny day
Is grand through the chimney-pots over the way.
This snug little chamber is cramm'd in all nooks
With worthless old knicknacks and silly old books,
And foolish old odds and foolish old ends,
Crack'd bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends.
Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china (all crack'd),
Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-backed;
A two-penny treasury, wondrous to see;
What matter? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me.
No better divan need the Sultan require,
Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire;
And 'tis wonderful, surely, what music you get
From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet.
That praying-rug came from a Turcoman's camp;
By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp;
A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn:
'Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon.
Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the chimes,
Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times;
As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie,
This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me.
But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest,
There is one that I love and I cherish the best:
For the finest of couches that's padded with hair
I never would change thee, my cane-bottom'd chair.
'Tis a bandy-legg'd, high shoulder'd, worm-eaten seat,
With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet;
But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there,
I bless thee and love thee, old cane-bottom'd chair.
If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms,
A thrill must have pass'd through your wither'd old arms!
I look'd, and I long'd, and I wish'd in despair;
I wished myself turn'd to a cane-bottom'd chair.
It was but a moment she sat in this place,
She'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face;
A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair,
And she sat there and bloom'd in my cane-bottom'd chair.
And so I have valued my chair ever since,
Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince;
Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare,
The queen of my heart and my cane-bottom'd chair.
When the candles burn low, and the company's gone,
In the silence of night as I sit here alone --
I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair --
My Fanny I see in my cane-bottom'd chair.
She comes from the past and revisits my room;
She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom;
So smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair,
And yonder she sits in my cane-bottom'd chair.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Related quotes
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
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Blue Chair
Now its just you and me, my blue friend
And you say that its you that shes thinking of
And our affair must end
But if its you that shes thinking of
I think my broken heart might mend
Chorus: now its my turn to talk and your turn to think
Your turn to buy and my turn to drink
Your turn to cry and my turn to sink down in the blue chair
Down in the blue chair
Now Ive made up my mind Ive made my mistake
And I know that she cries for you
When shes barely awake
Well shes going to bend your mind
Well I hope it dont break
Chorus
Down in the blue chair
We can watch our troubles rise
Like smoke into the air
And drift up to the ceiling
Down in the blue chair
You can feel just like a boy or a man
And next minute you can find yourself kneeling
Down in the blue chair
Theyre boasting of loving the daylights right out of her in the small hours
Down in the blue chair
You say that your love lasts forever when you know the night just hours
And still I want her right now
Not any minute, hour or day
And wherever she is tonight
I want her anyway
I suppose she never said to you,
You were just in the way
Chorus
Down in the blue chair
Down in the blue
Blue becomes you
Down in the blue chair
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Reaction About Breaking
i sit on a chair
and it breaks and i fall
on the floor
but i rise and looks around
with no one
really seeing what happens
just a while ago
and then i touch my bottom
and then alone by myself
i laugh the
hardest.
crazy, but i like the legs
of the chair splitting into
useless limbs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Old Chair
We look at an old chair and wonder
whose bottom once sat there.
Was it someone Royal
or someone posh
with lots and lots of dosh,
or was it someone poor
that treasured a comfortable seat.
No matter whom it was,
just look and wonder
at the history of that old chair,
then just sit on it
and put more history there.
29 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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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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A Chair Is No Longer Just A Chair
it is your experience that
gives you more meaning to all those which
you think
have been too common and
insignificant,
perhaps
now you must have realized as you sit upon a chair
that someone used to sit there
and that someone waited for another to be with her
that on the same chair
there were some fears
and pains and even longings
and hopes
unrealized and by then
you see that chair not just a chair
you sit there
and you ask it
for this chair though muted by wood
will always have
a story to tell....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Home
I came back late and tired last night
Into my little room,
To the long chair and the firelight
And comfortable gloom.
But as I entered softly in
I saw a woman there,
The line of neck and cheek and chin,
The darkness of her hair,
The form of one I did not know
Sitting in my chair.
I stood a moment fierce and still,
Watching her neck and hair.
I made a step to her; and saw
That there was no one there.
It was some trick of the firelight
That made me see her there.
It was a chance of shade and light
And the cushion in the chair.
Oh, all you happy over the earth,
That night, how could I sleep?
I lay and watched the lonely gloom;
And watched the moonlight creep
From wall to basin, round the room,
All night I could not sleep.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1913)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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Carey
The wind is in from africa
Last night I couldnt sleep
Oh, you know it sure is hard to leave here carey
But its really not my home
My fingernails are filthy, I got beach tar on my feet
And I miss my clean white linen and my fancy french cologne
Oh carey get out your cane
And Ill put on some silver
Oh youre a mean old daddy, but I like you fine
Come on down to the mermaid cafe and I will buy you a bottle of wine
And well laugh and toast to nothing and smash our empty glasses down
Lets have a round for these freaks and these soldiers
A round for these friends of mine
Lets have another round for the bright red devil
Who keeps me in this tourist town
Come on, carey, get out your cane
Ill put on some silver
Oh youre a mean old daddy, but I like you
Maybe Ill go to amsterdam
Or maybe Ill go to rome
And rent me a grand piano and put some flowers round my room
But lets not talk about fare-thee-welis now
The night is a starry dome.
And theyre playin that scratchy rock and roll
Beneath the matalla moon
Come on, carey, get out your cane
And Ill put on some silver
Youre a mean old daddy, but I like you
The wind is in from africa
Last night I couldnt sleep
Oh, you know it sure is hard to leave here
But, its really not my home
Maybe its been too long a time
Since I was scramblin down in the street
Now they got me used to that clean white linen
And that fancy french cologne
Oh carey, get out your cane
Ill put on my finest silver
Well go to the mermaid cafe
Have fun tonight
I said, oh, youre a mean old daddy, but youre out of sight
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Blue Chair
There's a blue rockin' chair
Sittin' in the sand
Weathered by the storms
And well-oiled hands
It sways back and forth
With the help of the winds
And seems to always be there like an old trusted friend
I've read a lot of books
Wrote a few songs
Looked at my life where it's goin' where it's gone
I've seen the world through a bus winshield
But nothing compares
To the way that I see it
To the way that I see it
To the way that I see it when I sit in that Old Blue Chair
From that chair I've caught
A few fish and some rays
And I've watched boats sail
In and out of cinnamon bays
I let go of a lover
That took a piece of my heart
Prayed many times for forgiveness
And a brand new start
I've read a lot of books
Wrote a few songs
Looked at my life where it's goin' where it's gone
I've seen the world trough a bus winshield
But nothing compares
To the way that I see it
To the way that I see it
To the way that I see it when I sit in that Old Blue Chair
That chair was my bead one new year's night
When I passed out from too much
Malibu and Dye
And I woke up to a hundred mosquito bites I swear
Got em' all sittin' right there in that Old Blue Chair
There's a blue rockin' chair
Sittin' in the sands
Weathered by the storms
And well-oiled hands
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Kept On The Bottom Relate
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom,
Relate.
Keeping patience for them,
Has a message to send.
'Cause,
People feel more pinned in.
'Cause,
Struggles for them don't end.
'Cause,
Promises don't pay the rent.
Or decisions not to eat,
Because they wish to look thin.
Those kept on the bottom relate.
Those kept on the bottom relate.
Those kept on the bottom relate.
Those kept on the bottom,
Relate.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom,
Relate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Rickety Chair
On a chair ricketier than himself
He is awake in his slumber
Slumber that comes when days are long
Yet numbered…..
In the relished stupor
The lost years show up as dreams
The remnants announcing
That he’s still alive!
He’s though never sure
He was ever part of them
They must be his imagination,
A myth or a tale he loves to believe.
The wrinkles mock the idea
That there was once a smoothness
The dimming world around his chair
Taunts to say the sparkle was a deceit
Did youth really ever embrace him?
It came to fleet away in a moment
Leaving him on the rickety chair to lament!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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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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The Man Who Discovered The Use Of A Chair
The man who discovered the use of a chair,
_Odds--bobs--
What a wonderful man!_
He used to sit down on it, tearing his hair,
Till he thought of a highly original plan.
For years he had sat on his chair, like you,
_Quite--still!
But his looks were grim_
For he wished to be famous (as great men do)
And nobody ever would listen to him.
Now he went one night to a dinner of state
_Hear! hear!
In the proud Guildhall!_
And he sat on his chair, and he ate from a plate;
But nobody heard his opinions at all;
There were ten fat aldermen down for a speech
(_Grouse! Grouse!
What a dreary bird!_)
With five fair minutes allotted to each,
But never a moment for him to be heard.
But, each being ready to talk, I suppose,
_Order! Order!_
They cried, _for the Chair!_
And, much to their wonder, our friend arose
And fastened his eye on the eye of the Mayor.
'We have come,' he said, 'to the fourteenth course!
'_High--time,
for the Chair_,' he said.
Then, with both of his hands, and with all of his force,
He hurled his chair at the Lord Mayor's head.
It missed that head by the width of a hair.
_Gee--whizz!
What a horrible squeak!_
But it crashed through the big bay-window there
And smashed a bus into Wednesday week.
And the very next day, in the decorous Times
(_Great--Guns--
How the headlines ran!_)
In spite of the kings and the wars and the crimes,
There were five full columns about that man.
ENVOI
Oh, if you get dizzy when authors write
(_My stars!
And you very well may!_)
That white is black and that black is white,
You should sit, quite still, in your chair and say:
It is easy enough to be famous now,
(_Puff--Puff!
How the trumpets blare!_)
Provided, of course, that you don't care how,
Like the man who discovered the use of a chair.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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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.
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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Love Is
Yeahh
Ooohh
Yeah yeah
Once there was a time love was just a myth
It just wasn't for real, didn't exist
Til the day you came into my life
You forced me to think twice
I didn't have too much, no I wasn't rich
Gave me belief someday I'd be more than this
That's why until this day I'm still your man
Cause you made me understand that
Love is kisses in a bean bag chair
The two of us but no one there
Love is the moment that I climb the stairs
To hold you in my arms after we make love
Love is waking up to see your face
Or kissing in the morning rain
Love is
The only thing that keeps me sane
At the end of the day is that I've got you
You're my secret place where I can be myself
You connect with me like nobody else
Even though our circumstances changed
Our love still remains
Meet me on the ground, still you help me fly
You taught me to be patient, I taught you to rely
So no matter what tomorrow brings
We got the simple things cause (noooo)
Love is kisses in a bean bag chair (bean bag chair)
The two of us but no one there (no one there)
Love is the moment that I climb the stairs (ohh)
To hold you in my arms after we make love
Love is waking up to see your face (ohh)
Or kissing in the morning rain
Love is
The only thing that keeps me sane (ohh)
At the end of the day is that I've got you
Love is
A Sunday morning with the blanket wrapped around your waist
Love is
The way your lips seem to curve
When you say my name (say my name ohh)
Love is
And when I'm stressing like the world's turning upside down
Girl it all makes sense when you're around
Love is kisses in a bean bag chair (yeah)
The two of us but no one there (making love is)
Love is the moment that I climb the stairs
To hold you in my arms after we make love
Love is waking up to see your face (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Or kissing in the morning rain
Love is
The only thing that keeps me sane (I'm gonna keep you baby)
At the end of the day is that I've got you
Love is kisses in a bean bag chair (bag chair)
The two of us but no one there
Love is the moment that I climb the stairs
To hold you in my arms after we make love
Love is waking up to see your face (I've got you baby)
Or kissing in the morning rain
Love is (baby)
The only thing that keeps me sane
At the end of the day is that I've got you
Love is
Waking up to see your face (say I've got you)
Kissing in the morning rain (ooh)
At the end of the day is that I've got you
song performed by by Backstreet Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreamin - Escape
If I close my eyes I see your face
And Im not without you
If I try hard and concentrate
I can still hear you speak
I picture myself in your room by the chair
Youre smoking a cigarette
If I close my eyes I can see your face
Youre saying, I missed you
Dreamin, Im 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 turn and say
What were you saying?
I picture you in the red chair
Inside the pale room
Dreamin, Im always dreamin
You sat in your chair with a tube in your arm
You were so skinny
You were still making jokes
I dont 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 watched them removing 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 Im not without you
If I try hard and concentrate I can hear your voice saying
Who better than you
If I close my eyes I cant believe that
Im here without you
Inside your pale room your empty red chair
And my head
Dreamin, Im always dreamin
Dreamin, Im always dreamin
Dreamin, Im always dreamin
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Big Green Chair
Look over there. See the big green chair. Its my favorite place, the chair over there.
I sit there quite often thinking of this and sometimes that. Sometimes when I sit there I wear a hat. Pink of course, nothing else would do. I even have pink shoe, the other one blue.
When I'm sleeply sometimes I crawl up in the big green chair. It smells of dad, his name is brad. But only mom call him brad, to me he's dad.
But my favorite thing about the big green chair is when dad calls my name,
Lainey, my dear, come and sit with me here in my chair, my big green chair.
poem by Brad Milner
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The Sufi's meet
The Sufi's meet, a silence so terrifying
They meditate with quietness so glorifying
Capturing a moment that is electrifying
A journey that is ultimately mystifying
In the midst of the silent crisis
They search for that inner one for all
That spiritual redemption of peace
Missions for each maybe big or small
In their midst I hear the shifting of bones
Without anyone actually throwing a stone
The creaking of the cane chair is done
Suddenly I feel the presence of none
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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