Poet's Platform Column | 14 Sept 06 by Janet Nesler | The Scioto Voice | Wheelersburg, Ohio

The Small Rocking Chair “A hundred years,” she said, “would be the age of the small rocker” brought in and sat by the fire.  The oaks grain, like lines in an aged face, along with narrowly sketched scrolls, tells a story of grace not dire. A place for sitting?  Perhaps for a child, but rather two sisters side by side near a fireplace to warm the shawls in an old farmhouse in a time when one could wait while the embers shared their warmth during the winter flaws and tired eyes could study the glow from the stag horn grate. With life discrete, care was applied to such pieces as this and  craftsmanship would appear as the oak was hewn and the labor did reach a form to complete. She wonders as she rubs with special care and places a cushion to cover the woven seat there. Will the quiet spirit that dwelled in the past and in the heart where it was held, find in the present that all is still well? Nicholas Johnson Portsmouth From “A View From Sheepranch Hollow”   MOMMA’ S CHAIR I wonder who built that rocking chair, made it soft and set it there, so Momma could rock the baby. I wonder who made the rockers strong, nice and curved and extra long, so little boys could ride. I wonder who made the back so tall to keep out creepy spiders small, to guard his little girls, Papa did! Helen Scott Portsmouth   AN OLD LADY’S SECRET She was sitting with her back towards me In her old rocking chair, As she slowly rocked back and forth Seemingly without a worry or care. And then I hear her quietly sing songs, Songs that she probably sang every day, Some that I remember with love, In a special sort of way. For she sang about Barbara Allen And Amazing Grace wasn’t too bad, But when she ended, “Loves Sweet Song,” I thought, “She’s probably lonely and sad.” But this thought ended abruptly When she lit up her corncob pipe, And chuckled as the smoke reached the ceiling Oh, it was a comforting sight. For this city girl secretly viewed Just how an old lady made her life serene By singing and rocking and smoking And ignoring the modern scene. Edna Keffer Portsmouth From “Poems and Other Writings”