The Old Armchair (Tweaked 19/04/07), Wizard Award ~ memories Options

[Eisa]

The Old Armchair (tweaked 19/04/07)


Merging with mizzle
I turn Mam’s front door key,
numbed by emptiness
until I step into her parlour:

gold velour drapes the window bay;
keepsakes swamp the sill.
Her talent paints the walls
exhibited in oils.
Centre floor, a sheepskin
hugs my feet in luxury.

I brush with guests, once
ushered in for tea and cakes,
warmed by their chatter
always tinged by laughter.
When the alien scrambled her mind,
visitors dwindled with her memory.
They won’t seek hospitality
in her nursing home.

I sift though drawers, see
my grandparent’s smiling faces.
China ladies dance
in a box with glass fish.
Reminiscences blur, until
two burly men arrive to collect
the borrowed hospital equipment.

Her armchair stands alone.

I sit on the faded velvet,
nudging back the years to …

smooching on the matching sofa
breathless with love ….

waiting with Dad
for my wedding car
nerves gnawing inside…

cushioned, I nursed my boys,
inhaling their baby scents,
while lulling them to sleep …

over-feasted on Boxing Days,
we piled in, sipping
the mellow atmosphere.

I caress the cherished arms,
swathed in auld lang syne,
sensing her comforting aura…
It’s only a chair, love.

Outside the clouds open;
releasing a deluge I whisper
Yes ... a chair
padded with nostalgia.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Old Arm Chair (third revision) March 29th 2006

Merging with mizzle
I turn her front door key,
numbed by emptiness
until I step into Mam’s parlour:

gold velour drapes the window bay;
keepsakes swamp the sill.
Her talent paints the walls
exhibited in oils.
Centre floor, a sheepskin
hugs my feet in luxury.

I brush with guests, once
ushered in, for tea and cakes,
warmed by their chatter
tinged by laughter.
The alien scrambled her mind;
visitors dwindled with her memory.
They won’t seek hospitality
in her nursing home.

I sift though drawers, see
grandparent’s smiling faces.
China ladies dance
in a box with glass fish.
Reminiscences blur, until
two burly men arrive
to collect hospital equipment.

Her armchair stands alone.

I sit on faded velvet,
nudging back the years to …

smooching on the matching sofa
breathless with love ... …

waiting with Dad
for my wedding car
nerves gnawing inside ...…

cushioned, I nursed my boys,
inhaled their baby scents,
lulling them to sleep ... …

over-feasted on Boxing Days,
we piled in, sipping
the mellow atmosphere.

I caress the cherished arms,
swathed in auld lang syne,
sensing her familiar aura…
It’s only a chair, love.

Suddenly, a cloud bursts outside;
tears splatter as I whisper
Yes … a chair
padded with nostalgia.


*******************************

The Old Arm Chair (second revision)

Merging with the mizzle
I turn her front door key
shivering at the emptiness,
then step in Mam’s parlour:

gold velour drapes the window bay;
the sill is still swamped with keepsakes.
Oil paintings decorate walls
exhibiting her talent.
A sheepskin rug, centre floor,
hugs my feet into its luxury.

I brush with guests once ushered
in for tea and cakes,
warmed by their chatter
tinged by laughter; then
the alien scrambled her mind and
visitors dwindled with her memory.
I fear they won’t seek her hospitality
in the nursing home.

Sifting though drawers and shelves,
I reminisce with family photographs
and sentimental heirlooms,
then supervise the removal
of hospital equipment;

her armchair stands alone.

I sit on faded dappled velvet,
nudging back the years to …

smooching on the matching sofa
breathless with love ...….

waiting with Dad
for my wedding car
nerves gnawing inside…...

cushioned on this chair
I nursed my baby boys,
inhaled their baby scents,
lulling them to sleep ...…

over-feasted on Boxing Days,
we piled in here, sipping
the comfy atmosphere.

For a final time I stroke
the cherished arms, while
swathed in auld lang syne;

I sense her familiar aura.…
It’s only a chair, love.
My tears splatter with
a sudden cloud burst outside;
Yes, I whisper …
a chair padded with memories.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Old Arm Chair -- FIRST REVISION

Emotions merge with grey sky
as I turn her front door key.
Everywhere looks abandoned
except Mam’s parlour:

understated in grandeur,
gold velour drapes the window bay,
while the sill is swamped with keepsakes.
A sheepskin rug, centre floor
hugs my feet into its deep pile.

Guests were ushered in here
for cups of tea and cakes.
I can still hear their chatter
warmed by laughter, until
the alien scrambled her mind;
I know she’ll be forgotten
in the nursing home.

I sift though drawers and shelves
and supervise the removal
of hospital equipment.
The sofa has long resided
in the garage, now her
old armchair stands alone.

Feeling jaded,
I sit on the faded chair
of dappled velvet,
nudging back the years, to

smooching on the brand new sofa
breathless with love ... …

waiting with Dad
for my wedding car
nerves gnawing inside ...…

cushioned on this chair
I nursed my baby boys,
inhaled their honeyed fragrance ... …

over-feasted on Boxing Days,
we piled in here, sipping
the cosy atmosphere.

Stroking the familiar arms
for a final time, as the past
wraps around me,
I can almost hear her voice
It’s only a chair, love
My tears sprinkle
like the showers outside.
Yes, a chair full of memories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Old Armchair


My mood mirrors the grey sky
as I turn the front door key,
relieved to shelter from the deluge.

All rooms look abandoned --
except Mam’s best room

It’s dated appearance
has an understated grandeur.
Gold velour drapes the window bay;
the sill is swamped with keepsakes.
A sheepskin rug, centre floor
hugs my feet into its deep pile.

Guests would be ushered in here
for cups of tea and cakes.
I still hear their chatter
warmed by laughter, until
the alien scrambled her mind
and visitors dwindled.
I doubt she’ll have any callers
at the nursing home.

I sift though drawers and shelves
-- supervise the gathering
of hospital equipment.
Two armchairs now stand alone,
the sofa has long resided
into the garage, giving way
for a downstairs bed.

Feeling jaded,
I sit on the faded chair
of dappled velvet,
my mind somersaulting
back through the years.

The room nudges me with reminiscences …

courting days,
smooching on the sofa
breathless with love ...

waiting with Dad
for my wedding car --
nerves gnawing inside ... …

cushioned on this chair
I nursed my baby boys,
inhaled their honeyed fragrance ... …

over-feasted,
on Boxing Days,
we piled in here, drinking up
the cosy atmosphere.

Stroking the familiar arms
for a final time,
the past wraps around me
so tears tumble
like the showers outside.

I sense a rush of warmth
-- a celestial embrace.

‘It’s only a chair, love’

‘I know, Dad --
a chair full of memories’

[JaxMyth]

Thank you for the gift of 'mizzle' I have not come across it before, some comments in line.
[delete] (add) {comment}

The Old Arm Chair (second revision)

Merging with the mizzle
I turn her front door key
shivering at the emptiness,
then step in Mam’s parlour:

understated in grandeur,{ I query the meaning and the need for this line}
gold velour drapes the window bay;
the sill [is] still swamped with keepsakes.
Oil paintings decorate walls
exhibiting her [latent] talent. {If it is latent it is neither evident nor active as it would need to be for the paintings to be able to be on the wall.}
A sheepskin rug, centre floor,
hugs my feet into its [plush] luxury. {Seems redundant}

A ghostly brush of guests
once ushered in, for tea and cakes, {Guests now ghosts are ushered in...}
warms me with their murmurs
tinged by laughter; but visitors
dwindled with her memory {How beautifully drawn.}
[as she rummaged for life’s reality.] {Implied}
I fear they won’t seek her hospitality
in the nursing home.

Sifting though drawers and shelves,
I reminisce with family photographs
and sentimental heirlooms,
then supervise the removal
of hospital equipment; {there is a nice parallel here that is not explored.}

her armchair stands alone.

Jaded, I sit on faded dappled velvet, {Overloaded, also 'jaded' seems to be mere ornamentation as there is no real precedent for the feeling.}
nudging back the years to …

smooching on the matching sofa
breathless with love ….

waiting with Dad
for my wedding car
nerves gnawing inside…

cushioned on this chair
I nursed my baby boys,
inhaled their honeyed fragrance, {Perhaps 'baby smell', 'honeyed fragrance' seems a poetic abstraction.}
lulling them to sleep …

over-feasted on Boxing Days,
we piled in here, sipping
the comfy atmosphere.

For a final time I stroke
the cherished arms, while
swathed in auld langsyne; {Typo: auld lang syne}

I sense her familiar aura.…
It’s only a chair, love.
My tears splatter with
a sudden cloud burst outside;
Yes, I whisper …
a chair padded with memories.

The conceit is beautiful but I feel that the execution is not there yet.

If of use, use if not toss.

Thank you and regards,

Jax