Ode to my Chair


About a week ago, as I was coming in from fishing, my fine old captains chair gave up the ghost. The base at the bottom of the legs had rusted out, and with nothing to help support the legs at the bottom they became weak and subject to breakage, which is what they did. At first I just lost one leg. It snapped off where it fit into the seat and couldn't be repaired. I managed to sit on three legs with the right arm resting on the table to help give it a little more support. It wasn't overly comfortable, but I managed. Then, last week as I was returning home, I was entering an area near Flynn Cove where there is a lot of tidal action. The tide was ebbing and the wind was blowing from the west against the tide, so there was a lot of rolling and slamming up and down. Well, the chair couldn't take it any more and collapsed, breaking off two more legs. Of course I went down with it and spilled coffee everywhere, and had to stand the rest of the way in. It was an unpleasant event- I've had that chair for fifteen or more years. So to honor the good service I got from it, I decided to do a little poem. I don't know how to do poems, so please bear with me as I pour out my heart and soul in this little literary masterpiece- Ode to my Chair.

Oh chair, oh chair, my lovely old chair
How often you welcomed my large derriere
You were ancient of days, scarred up and bruised
I held you together with nails, glue and screws
And on your  four legs I put rubber shoes
To keep you from sliding around

Oh chair how often I rested on your old wooden seat
A comfortable spot for my big slab of meat
And often I thought, well this is sure neat
To sit on a swivel chair

You were made of wood, metal and glue
And then when you broke I felt kind of blue
But I didn't fret, or cry or swear
For there were still three legs left on my wonderful chair
And so I sat again

Now three legs are fine in almost all places
But here on the boat with limited spaces
I struggled to keep all three legs aligned
And though it did work most of the time
It was always a struggle

Oh chair, my dear chair, through no fault of your own
Your metal base rusted where salt water was sown
Your wooden joints weakened (it happens with age)
So now it is time to turn a new page
And see what happens next

You know my dear chair I tried hard to fix you
Sometimes with nails and sometimes with glue
It never did work so what could I do?
I had no choice but to buy another

It's true chair I'm cheap, or perhaps the word's frugal
And I happened to look on the search engine Google
But there's no chair just like you, and though you are broken
I hung on to your seat and words were then spoken
To my daughter Jen

Her husband Justin is a right handy sort
And who knows oh my chair, he might be a good sport
And fix you

Perhaps from big dowels he'll make you new legs
From the parts that are left over he might whittle some pegs
And you'll begin a new phase of your life

And now my dear chair, I bid you farewell
You served me so faithfully, your seat was just swell
Your legs were strong towers, your swivel sublime
But now my old friend, I'm afraid that it's time
To part ways. Thanks for the memories

Comments

  1. she was a good old chair...i fell asleep at the wheel many a time on her...just kidding...but really was a good chair...very good poem.

    -Ben

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hey Ben- Autumn just reminded me that it's your birthday and tomorrow is Brian's. What are you 29? It's hard to believe. Time marches on. Yeah, it was a good ol chair. I had to buy one at Southeast Furniture. This one has a padded seat and back so I probably will fall asleep on those slow days- of which there have been many this year. Anyway, thanks for commenting- Happy Birthday!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Aw, Tom, maybe it's time to give the Faithful Chair a Viking's funeral.... !

    ReplyDelete
  4. No Jill- can't let that happen. It will probably sit in the back of Jen's Suburu for weeks on end with fishing rods, empty soda cans, beach sand, special rocks and an assortment of other treasures. Hopefully it will one day be resurrected.

    ReplyDelete
  5. That was a good poem, maybe you should start writing a book of poems now:) Liz

    ReplyDelete
  6. Thanks Liz- no, I don't think so. We'll see what this winter brings. I'm thinking of tweaking my blog posts and putting them in a book. Of course people that read the blog probably wouldn't want the book, but there are lots of folks who don't read it, so I might still sell a few books.

    ReplyDelete
  7. That is a good idea! That would be a seller I am sure, just got to visit with Cindy last night and hopefully sold you some more of your Graybeards book. Bill got his hair cut today and told the barber about it too, he knows you, sold you some gear? Talk to you later:)

    ReplyDelete
  8. HI Liz- yeah that barber's name is Pete Whitehead. He used to own the Janie C. I get my haircut when I go into town at the Village Barber shop. I like Pete. Yeah he sold me some flashers and hoochies last year. Thanks for the promotions!

    ReplyDelete
  9. Varnish it and find it a place beside old XtraTuf flower planter.

    ReplyDelete
  10. I assume you have Xtra-tuff flower planters at your house?

    ReplyDelete
  11. Oh my dad...that was just too much! And I agree...the blog book would be a SMASH! I often go back and reread old ones when there's nothing new...and I always crack up laughing on certain ones..no matter how many times I've read em.

    ReplyDelete
  12. I think Your chair, is no longer good...Have You considered, firewood? hahahah...too funny stranger...I love Your poem...It made me smile...something I have not done in awhile. Oh, to talk with a ryhme is so much fun..I am finished now..Yes I am done.

    ReplyDelete
  13. I see you're a poet, but perhaps you don't know it.... I'm glad you liked the poem. I seldom engage in such rhyme, but it came to me and I had to act on it. Thanks for commenting.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Sick Pack

Clear but Cold

The End of an Era