Image by W A Beer 'Young man in a chair' from Wikemedia Commons


A revised poem from a while back; with (maybe) a touch of Robert Frost trying to break through.

Mending a Chair

There is something I like about wood.

As, one morning the chair was there;

just perched precariously upon a pile

of rubble left from our building work;

and where it came from I had no idea,

it had just been left there – an old chair,

waiting to be taken away and crushed.

So, I brought it down for a closer look.


Lifting it told me at once it was oak,

well-weathered, an outdoor chair.

I could see that all that was missing

from its back was a vertical slat,

that I easily replaced from my store.

So, I took the time to sand by hand,

taking care to preserve the grain.

Once smooth I applied a good varnish,

to protect it from future wind and rain.


It’s redeemed now, in our garden;

and I’m content to be sitting in it,

my hands resting along the arms;

and I like to think it will outlast me,

and by my doing some practical good,

I’ve preserved the life that’s still in its wood.



                                                      © D G Moody 2022



Poetry by D G Moody
Read 217 times
Written on 2022-03-27 at 17:14

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MetaPoetics The PoetBay support member heart!

I can see the Frostian imagery of rural life of physical toil breaking in, giving the poem a deeper layer of meaning. Overall, it's nicely done!

Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Yes, fine sentiments indeed. Brilliant thinking. I particularly warmed to your realisation that the wood still has a life.

Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Fine sentiment and poem.