Open Poetry #1 |
a true story (or The Rocking Chair) |
IsabelleSkye Member
since 1999-06-27
Posts 253 |
amidst the noises of the dock and the pungent smell of the sea a clamor of voices all raised in excitement Scottish accents English, and Irish too each traveller anticipating the long voyage the impending journey foremost in their minds mothers holding babies and rounding up toddlers the older kids shy and awed by everything while fathers watch over possessions and tickets each family working together to get underway hurrying to leave their past behind in a wake of foam and spray aboard ship, children counted, possessions stowed each person feeling relief and some fear as the trip to the new world looms ahead so fearsome and unknown the hold, ship's cargo full of memories, made and yet to come furniture clothing heirloom items each one special in it's own way carefully chosen for this journey with loving hand the ship groans in the wind as a rocking chair gently sways to and fro moving with the sea hand carved in Scotland in 1700 the seat embossed in a fierce dragon wood so dark and rich history seeping from the pores of the chair whispering of babies rocked to sleep and a profession of love or two maybe a nap in the sun, or a tearful goodbye the fiber so silken from the oils of many hands velvet smooth, cool and soft o'er rough sea and many a mile travelled from port to port then, America pioneer hearts, looking far upon the horizon packing for another voyage wrapped in a heavy quilt and carefully lashed upon a west-bound wagon the chair once again travels to unknown places after much hardship and sacrificed goods the old rocker still safely in place it's ownership so important no matter what the cost it's family history so rich and real if the chair could spill the stories what delightful eves would be spent in rapturous tales now resting in a humble log cabin amid homespun wool and cheery voices the chair rocks silent and stately a remnant of a bygone era an elegant time a richer, more settled time it still rocks babes to sleep and holds many a weary soul history's guardian amidst the making of more beautiful chair cherished year after year such a treasure, it's worth unmeasured to this day now in retirement on the family farm a reminder of our rich heritage and toils and trials that brought us to this fertile valley so long ago (This is an embellished tale, albeit true! This chair is my parents' chair, brought from Scotland on a ship long ago, by my pioneer ancestors.They travelled across the US in 1847 to homestead in the Willamette Valley in Oregon. My parents still own the original farm! What heritage! By the way there were two chairs, but my Dad and his two naughty brothers ruined one and my Grandmother BURNED IT!) ------------------ God is really only another artist. He invented the giraffe, the elephant and the cat. He has no real style, He just goes on trying other things. - Pablo Picasso [This message has been edited by IsabelleSkye (edited 08-27-99).] |
||
© Copyright 1999 IsabelleSkye - All Rights Reserved | |||
Nan
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-20
Posts 21191Cape Cod Massachusetts USA |
Wow, Izzy - I remember this one so well - I guess I can't forget any of your work - This one is so awesome - especially considering that since I first read it, I've been fortunate enough to see the remains of the wagon train ruts on the Oregon Trail (just outside Fort Laramie) - It is truly awe-inspiring....Nice job, my friend... |
||
Colin Senior Member
since 1999-06-05
Posts 596Callington, Cornwall, England |
Yet another brilliant piece from the pen of Ms. Skye *8) I often wonder what things would say if only they could speak. That chair would certainly have a few stories to tell! ------------------ I believe in fairy tales but then I'm just a silly romantic, what do I know? |
||
WhtDove Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-22
Posts 9245Illinois |
This was well written! Lots of detail, I felt like I was on the journey! |
||
Elizabeth
Moderator
Member Ascendant
since 1999-06-07
Posts 6871Minnesota |
So did I! I wish I could hear some of the stories this chair could tell-it truly would keep me enraptured for hours. Wonderfully descriptive, Isabelle! ------------------ *Elizabeth* "Dwelt a maid belov'd and cherish'd by high and low, But with autumn leaf she perish'd, long time ago..." |
||
⇧ top of page ⇧ | ||
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. |