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

My Review

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A still life painted with words.
I like the silence, the mood that permeates this scene. A snapshot of life...or death.

Posted 4 Weeks Ago

Dave Brown

4 Weeks Ago

Laz K.

4 Weeks Ago

Just another working day...a bummer indeed! 😕
Merry Christmas to you though!
Dave Brown

4 Weeks Ago

Thankyou and sympathies
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 1 Month Ago

Dave Brown

1 Month 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 1 Month Ago

Dave Brown

1 Month Ago

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

1 Month 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...

Posted 1 Month Ago

Dave Brown

1 Month 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.


Posted 1 Month Ago

Dave Brown

1 Month Ago

Thank you Chris
appreciate your taking the time

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5 Reviews
Added on December 3, 2019
Last Updated on December 19, 2019


Dave Brown
Dave Brown

gabriola island, BC - British Columbia, Canada

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