To the spirit, so secretly rough and scale,
at least you make wasting the day away, comfortable enough to bare.

On that, how many people have had to bare,
your soul sucking stench, oh office chair?

You smell like a mix, between new car and freezer air,
and a hint of stale chips,from the birthday of Mr. Frair.

You may feel cushy, but underneath that ruse,
you’re as soft as concrete, and your fabric has tooth.

You suck in the sound waves of our chit-chat on bad days,
and hear the groans,under our breath, on morning Mondays.

Oh how I hate you, awful office chair,
but I suppose you’re a nice thing to have, at least while working here.

Dominating the room with its worn leather smell
And thick padding is your favorite chair
With a deep recline that draws one in
And numerous hours just speed by
Reading, resting, reclining

I remember how long you fiddled
And arranged the chair to your satisfaction
How the cushions must be placed just so
How the leather padding must be tug just so
How the chair must be maintained just so

But most of all
I remember you in the chair
With your come-hither look
And the numerous nights
We spent in that chair

I think I love that chair too

Or at least
I love being in that chair
With you.

30 Poems in 30 day is no easy task. Most people drop out after a while. Others (like me) write in bunches.

She overflowed the molded blue synthetic circle seat
She laughed the way a cat climbs a tree
The sound of it lodged in my sinuses
She seemed to want to be next to me all the time
She asked if my friend sitting across from me was my son
She touched my shoulder quickly then withdrew
She told me that she couldn’t conceive
I got up to bowl and lingered in front of the ball return
The moment I threw the ball I would have to turn around
I would have to figure out where to sit
I might just have to run away
I purposely threw the ball a little light
Watching it nick the far side of the headpin
Hoping to leave an impossible split
Or at least one pin
That I could take some time to look over
But I was doomed to roll a strike
The pins collapsed with a spiked crash
Only slightly drowned out by the sharp squeal
From the bright purple clad
Wedged in woman who probably needed a friend
That I did not want to be
I headed back to my seat where she was waiting for me
The night did not improve afterwards

Desk chair, oh my desk chair

Chair, oh chair, what a dumpster find you really were.
Youkeep on keeping on so many hours a day.
Youare like a beloved pet that has no fir, is no cur and doesn’t purr.
Youare faithful to my outlined butt imprint on your seat of grey.

Your stuck on afterthought of wobbly arms
Have been rubbed smooth but for a few grooves.
Did your first owner appreciate your charms?
Was she aware of your many wheel moves?

You, my dear, are adjustable unlike some loves before.
You have a big knob for a bellybutton that swivels you.
And you are always a gentleman who stays upright on the floor.
You never try to dump me no matter what I put you through.

Ithink you look younger than your given age.
Your spiked spider legs are chunky like a teen’s.
You are tireless as near as I can gauge.
You stay right with me through my wandering routines.

Inever use your back rest but I do enjoy my edgy perch
Together we ride across the office floor and into cyberspace
You are always ready to ride anywhere we go in our research
You would look so young, eager and ready to ride if you but had a face.

You have contoured yourself to my body like an extension.
You look like the sturdy workhorse that you are.
At night when I put my feet up, you relax all my tension.
You were built for industrial strength and you are a star.

And I love the sporty, rakish slinky hose on your back
The knob doesn’t work anymore but you mean well.
If it’s only comfort I need I can just go hit the sack.
Baby, you didn’t belong in the dumpster–you are too swell.

Maryellen Gradys last blog post.."AND ALL I ASK OF DYING IS TO GO NATURALLY." ("When I Die")

A sitdown encounter with ButtOffTheGrounder, i.e. my comfy Chair,
Has made me aware of the FaithHope&Chairity often offered there,

And so I say Dammit it may be inanimate but it is my Friend,
So restfully soundproofing of my lowdownpoofing–workhorse to the End!
Such hindsight reflective of ungenuflective neglect of this fine piece of work
Reminds (and it bolsters me) some reupholstery may improve its Perk,
Each newborn flatus DOES further degrade its Fabreze-with-a-twist-of-lime Magic
So unreluctant I truck ineluctably Chair/Pal to get it Un-
Tragic.