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Empty armchairs

21 Feb

They face each other with a deathly calm,
Two old chairs in the dark with florals frayed.
Spindle held leaves clawed climb o’er each arm,
Thread-broken petals ripped raw and decayed.

One seat depressed with rests aged down but clear;
Silhouette of a soul, sad and alone.
The other is pristine, there’s no mark here;
The ghost of the man that I’ve never known.

Sun shoots through windows shored thickly with dust
Searing limp cloth as it fires from outside,
Splintering off panes imprisoned in rust
But shines off the letter and badge on the side.

A lifetime after he left his armchair
His wife’s not alone, for he is still there.

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2 Comments

Posted by on February 21, 2012 in Creative Writing, Poetry

 

2 responses to “Empty armchairs

  1. Jonathan Sutton

    March 10, 2012 at 9:19 pm

    What’s the metre? It seems like it’s all over the place…

    I do like the structure though, and the theme. Very poignant (maybe?). Good job, Dan!

     
    • beachhutt

      March 12, 2012 at 6:19 pm

      Yo Jonny! ‘Tis iambic pentametre, if a tad rough on the stresses. It’s still 10 syllables to a line though. What did you mean?
      And thanks. đŸ™‚

       

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