Thursday, 17 January 2013

The Charioteer

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The Charioteer

People part
as I glide
through the crowd
head at chest height.

Mothers tell children
‘mind the man in the chair,’
the kids turn with a start
and stare.

Yes,
I’m the man in the chair.
The man in the brand new
shiny chair.

Carving through the crowd
like a Roman chariot.
Head held unbowed,
a laureate.

But…. later….
when I’m alone
the beasts will be set free -
and they will rage.

No longer the charioteer
I will play the part
of the condemned.
John - a la carte.

Yet - amid the melee,
secure in the knowledge
that, He has a plan,
I will survive.

John Carré Buchanan
17 January 2013

4 comments:

  1. I enjoyed this John. Deep and meaningful. Jenny

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Jenny, Thank you for your kind comment. I am glad that you enjoyed the poem.

      Delete
  2. You written some terrific poems on here (or rather posted them) but somehow, I think this one so far is your best. I've read it through more than half a dozen times and have to say, very impressive.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Andrew, Thank you for your kind compliment. I am delighted that you like my poems. This one falls out of the freedom I feel when I am using my chair. I feel that it restores me, turning me from the cripple, robbed of my freedom of movement to the former athlete or charioteer, capable of moving with skill at speed.

      Delete

I really appreciate constructive feedback. If you are able to comment it would be most grateful.

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