Friday, November 14, 2014

A Map to No Where

A Map to No Where
A map to nowhere needs no GPS
The road is open for interpretation’
The road is clear,
The car is full of gas
I watch the horizon as time fly's by
 unassured destiny
I travel,
I ride,
Like a ghost in the wind
I travel to and fro
I am Lady Abigail
I stand and deliver
 my voice loud and clear
The road to nowhere is full with good intentions
The road to hell is paved with better ones,
Time is suspended and life goes on
Watch me as I drive aimlessly
Like the toes of a ballerina
the compass of my heart points us in the right direction
I have no map or GPS
The road ahead is unclear
Ride with me, if you dare
The thoughts and feels expressed are those of Abigail-Madison Chase as she sits in the Cancer Center.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

The Edge of Life


The Edge of Life

Sometimes I stand on the edge of life,
Wondering if  and when I will fall,

When I fall who will catch me?
Will they love me?
Will they take care of me?

Will they heal my wounds?

Sometimes I stand on the edge of Life,
Wondering when I will fall,


Friday, November 7, 2014

Empty Chairs Full of Life

I am not a poet by any stretch of the imagination. But as I sat waiting on name to be called at my doctor’s office on yesterday; I realized were are a lot of chairs. The chairs are perfectly patterned and lined in rows. Plush and comfortable, they welcome you, with a halfhearted smile.
A cancer center’s chairs should not welcome you, but in their own way they do.  Closing my eyes for a second, I could see the chairs having a party after all the patients had gone. Again poetry is not my thing but there was something so poet about those chairs.
In many ways they hold life, hope, and happiness. Someday they hold great joy, on others the burdens of sorrow. Yet, they still sit there day after day.
Empty Chairs Full of Life

They dance when no one is around
All the Single Ladies march in a row.
Doing High kicks, to and fro,
They are the chairs that sit in the Cancer Center,
Some empty, some full, all perfect and neat,
They should be sad but they are not,for they are hope,
Empty Chairs Full of life, O’ how they dance when no one’s around,

O' how they dance, when they dance, the dance of
Seven Veils, The Bump, The Hustle,
Or form a line to dance to "All the Singe Ladies"
These chairs cry out,
 Of being mischievous happenings when no one is around.

 O' how they dance, when they dance,when people are not around?
“Have a seat, watch us dance”
"Will my stay here be that long I ask?"
“No, ma’am, your stay want be very long.”
 They speak in their own unique way.


Monday, November 3, 2014

Rambling At Dawn

Winters scorn bared down on my soul as I sat on my patio this morning drinking a pot of hot chocolate.  Surrounded by darkness my shadowed ebbed its way behind me as I folded myself in a lounger wishing for daylight.

The stark contrast of the darkness and the forthcoming light amazed me with it wisdom and willingness to share.

The quiet of the morning as I sat sipping my hot chocolate was quite dramatic. The pitch black of night surrounded me as the sun grazed its way up. The screech of some unknown bird could be heard calling its mates name.

Mornings are just an awesome time think and wonder. What might have been, what could have been? Ah, the essence of things to come.

More sleep is what this aging diva needs to clarify her thought. Back to been and Cartons?

These are the rambling of a forty something looking forward to watch Kim Possible at daybreak.

© Abigail Madison Chase

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