Posts Tagged ‘chair’



“Have you seen my babies today?”,

she asked in her despair,

then she propelled her chair

into each room along the way;

for she lives in the past . . .

new events never last,

and thoughts remain in disarray


9/3/91     Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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My favorite chair



Hello, old easy chair of mine

You sure are worn by wear.

I marvel at your comfort zone

When I am seated there.


For years I’ve snuggled to your warmth.

I’ve stained you with my tears,

But you’ve also heard my laughter,

And hugged me through my fears.


Sometimes I have to vacate pets

Reposed upon your lap,

So I can sit and read a book

Or take a little nap.


You list a bit to one side now . . .

You’re not a pretty sight.

But, oh, I favor sitting there,

For you fit my frame just right.


Yes, old chair, we’ve weathered years,

And I needn’t wonder why

Your  arms have been my refuge,

As the years go rushing by.


9/14/03     Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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Autumn beckons me to sit

In my old rocking chair,

Out on the weathered farmhouse porch

Where magic’s everywhere.

A breeze is whispering lightly

Throwing kisses at my cheek,

A raccoon stops to take a drink

Down by the little creek.

Burning leave’s rich pungent smell

Lends credence to the scene,

As flaming gold and scarlet leaves

Change from emerald green.

The blue enameled sky above

Is cloudy here and there —

Just gauzy bits of tracery,

Like ribbons in its hair.

A honking chevron of wild geese

Are winging overhead

A sign for nature to prepare

For winter’s frosty bed.

From high up in a cottonwood

Where he is hard to see

A mockingbird trills the score

From summer’s melody.

Squirrels are busy storing nuts;

They’ll need them when it snows.

And daddy-long legs cluster up

Each time a cool wind blows.

A spider deftly spins a web

For one last hungry try;

As nature beds itself for sleep

He hopes a bug flies by.

A sluggish bee lights near my arm

And slowly cleans a wing.

He’s hypnotized by autumn’s song,

No need to fear his sting.

I rock in rhythm with the sounds

Of autumn’s pulsing beat,

And I think that I have never seen

A season quite as sweet.


9/22/93    Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck         


2’nd … Indiana NPD 1994

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She sat there in her rocking chair,

her vacant stare

disturbing me.

Her memory

so full, before a dread disease

had made thoughts cease.

Thoughts past recall,

as if a wall

had somehow blocked the view inside,

before she died.

Her private hell,

that empty shell.


4/12/92       Phyllis DeWitt -VanVleck

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          MY DESK


The things that clutter up my desk

Are not considered picturesque

Pencils, pens, erasers, too

Mail with answers long past due

A paper-weight and paper clips

Though odd it seems, there’s two prune pits

The pits will be two trees, I plan

But now are stuck on Ed McMahon

Contest brochures, poetry notes

Clippings cut from Digest quotes

A photograph of Clinton’s grin –

Mustache, gapped teeth penciled in


What you may judge as disarray

Is where I work, day after day

I don’t despair, for in my mind

There’s nothing there that I can’t find

I know that’s not what you’ve been told

But I see my desk all cubby-holed

I know what’s in each pile stacked there

And those that overflow my chair

There’s just one thing that troubles me

A ringing I hear frequently

Beneath this stuff that’s so well known

Is hidden my darn telephone


9/8/98    Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck


3’rd … Arkansas NPD 1999

5’th … NFSPS 1999

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