The Desk

The Desk

A Poem by Dave Brown

An old worn wooden desk

With one badly braced leg

A thin and crackled spindle

Like the shell of an egg

 

Once painted a beige

But now worn all through

Slivers and cracks decorating

A single drawer, not looked into

 

The chair, its companion

Shows the age they share

And a half read novel, open

In this place, with this pair

 

But no eyes are looking

No words are now seen

The unused reading glasses

Don't see literary’s cuisine

 

The bookcase that leans gainst the near wall

With one wood framed, panelled, glass door ajar

Where magical moments wearily wait in vain

With the lamp of knowledge’s unused star     

 

Dust, is now the desk’s single mate

Only its thick coating gives attention at will

No one seeks out the lone reading glasses

By the book, on the desk, by the cracked window sill

© 2019 Dave Brown


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Despite a slight awkwardness in the meter of the last line of verse 4, this one is excellent for what it suggests as much as for what it says. It may be just a sketch of a scene noted by the poet, but I believe it could be a metaphor for death. For all of the things mentioned in the poem are things that were once used with regularity, but now are deserted and gathering dust. The people who used them are apparently long absent, maybe no longer in this life. Sooner or later we all gather dust or become one with it.

Posted 2 Days Ago


Dave Brown

2 Days Ago

I agree with all you say
In fact, I so value your opinion (and because I wasn't happy with th.. read more
This is a powerful analogy for short-sound-byte media capturing minds & hearts, while to take a deep dive has gone by the wayside. Earlier this year, I quit satellite TV for budgetary reasons, but it turned out to be my best gift to myself this year. After reading 6 vastly different books on the colonization of Africa (example), I'm catching up on so much that I did not pay attention to, most of my life. Your poem also reminds me of the decay of giving a damn how things turn out. Love your strong imagery! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 3 Days Ago


Dave Brown

3 Days Ago

Thank you BG
You are joining my wife in the reading game
she is avid reader extraordin.. read more
barleygirl

3 Days Ago

Or maybe she can read you in a few seconds flat, which can hardly keep a woman's interest all day . .. read more
my students seem to have desks like this...there seems so little reading done anymore...only reading of text messages...books gather dust....
reading glass long to be attached to ears and a nose...but alas...
the desk is so lonely....
and all those unread books are shedding a tear...
j.

Posted 3 Days Ago


Dave Brown

3 Days Ago

It is becoming not much more than a four letter word
Thanks for visit
A poignant poem here Dave. A story of a writer's desk gathering dust, no longer used. I imagine the writer's demise and the dust gathering in layers. Although there are no descriptions of the writer, I found myself building up a picture of him as he sat at his desk penning his lines. A very visual piece and much enjoyed.

Chris

Posted 3 Days Ago


Dave Brown

3 Days Ago

Thank you Chris
appreciate your taking the time

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4 Reviews
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Added on December 3, 2019
Last Updated on December 4, 2019

Author

Dave Brown
Dave Brown

gabriola island, BC - British Columbia, Canada



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