Inappropriate Poetic Subjects: Moldy Chair

A photo from flood ravaged Ireland.

My marketing strategy’s not that great
In naming this bit of verse “Moldy Chair”;
But yet, that’s the photo I’ve chosen, and so,
You all can see what I see there.

Abandoned chair, moldy, with rows on rows
Of flood-damaged houses in Ireland;
A gray sort of dolor hangs in the air,
And out around the bend.

Moldy chair, moldy chair, what a sound.
Tribute to vanity’s filth and shame —
Taking forever our mold with us,
Germ and infection:
Our claim
To fame

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

4 thoughts on “Inappropriate Poetic Subjects: Moldy Chair”

  1. Oddly enough, one of my happiest moments came after being baffled as to how pronounce the name on the lapel of our waiter in Cork, “Eoghan.” If he said, “I’m Eoghan and I’ll be your waiter this evening,” I hadn’t understood that, either! My dining companion, however, said, “Good evening, Owen.” Whew! Are you of Irish descent?

    Liked by 1 person

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