Virgil Chabre
This is the poetry site of poet Virgil Chabre
Things to think about
Welcome
Virgil Chabre with Joy Harjo Poet Laureate of The Library of Congress
Welcome
Welcome to the Website of poet Virgil Chabre. Author of six books of poetry:
Silhouettes, Images, and Faded Memories
The Night She Left and Other Poems
Column One (Poems 1982-1992)
Washington D. C
Mending Fences
Mining Camp Blues & Other Poems
Contact: virgilchabre13@gmail.com
The Pen
I kept the pen she used
Welcome to the Website of poet Virgil Chabre. Author of six books of poetry:
Silhouettes, Images, and Faded Memories
The Night She Left and Other Poems
Column One (Poems 1982-1992)
Washington D. C
Mending Fences
Mining Camp Blues & Other Poems
Contact: virgilchabre13@gmail.com
The Pen
I kept the pen she used
The last time she signed her name
Her hand a little shaky
Penmanship smooth and perfect
The pen represented her
I learned so much from her
About living and dying
It wasn’t the sun coming up
Or going down
It was chemotherapy a mixture of drugs
Taking her away
Like a friendly Agent Orange
Killing part of her
But leaving part of her to suffer
I saw radiation burn her
Thoughts about Hiroshima and Nagasaki
She brought the atomic bomb
into our home
I walked carefully in the kitchen
The shadow of a Japanese woman following her
I slept in silence as I felt her breathing
Next to me
I saw doctors look the other way
When they talked to her
Staring into an empty space
Soon filled with sorrow
Day of death was freezing
The ground would not open up
To accept her
She left too early
The earth rotated on its axis
Spinning away from her grave
I held the pen in my hand
Thinking about the last time
She wrote her name
Fearing the ink will run out
And her memories will be gone
Like an empty ink cartridge
Virgil Chabre with Joy Harjo Poet Laureate of The Library of Congress
Welcome
She Needed
She needed an ocean
I gave her a river
That flowed passed her
Leaving her dry and alone
She needed a mountain
I gave her a hillside
With a tree
And an empty swing
Swaying in the wind
She needed tomorrow
But all I had was today
And the ticking of a clock
That said time was passing by
She needed the sunshine
But I lived in the shadows
Darkness
She Needed
She needed an ocean
I gave her a river
That flowed passed her
Leaving her dry and alone
She needed a mountain
I gave her a hillside
With a tree
And an empty swing
Swaying in the wind
She needed tomorrow
But all I had was today
And the ticking of a clock
That said time was passing by
She needed the sunshine
But I lived in the shadows
Darkness was my friend
As I heard the closing of a door
The Oak Tree
I walked by the oak tree today
Thought about
All the conversations we had
Sitting under it
How it shaded us from the sun
And the world
It was our place
Where words flowed like wine
And the silent times
Were real
When words were not necessary
Just you and me
Under the oak tree
Today I missed you
As I sat beneath the oak tree
The silence took me back
And somewhere in my mind
I smiled
Thinking about you and me
Under the oak tree
Virgil Chabre with Joy Harjo Poet Laureate of The Library of Congress
Virgil Chabre with Joy Harjo Poet Laureate of The Library of Congress
Virgil Chabre with Joy Harjo Poet Laureate of The Library of Congress
Standing Still Man
For: Joy Harjo
I see and feel
The warmth of the sun
The moon and stars
Fade as the sunrise
Moves into existence
Darkness now in the past
The earth stands still
Afraid to move
On its axis
I feel pain in my heart
History repeats itself
The earth moves
Beneath my feet
I cannot walk anymore
Too many clouds
Fill my skies
I stop and hesitat
Standing Still Man
For: Joy Harjo
I see and feel
The warmth of the sun
The moon and stars
Fade as the sunrise
Moves into existence
Darkness now in the past
The earth stands still
Afraid to move
On its axis
I feel pain in my heart
History repeats itself
The earth moves
Beneath my feet
I cannot walk anymore
Too many clouds
Fill my skies
I stop and hesitate
Unable to take that step
Into the future
Haunted by the past
Broken promises
Broken dreams
Broken treaties
Broken bodies left behind
In a world
Out of control
I am Standing Still Man
Poetry
Einstein Said
Einstein said
That the amount of stress
In a situation is equal to
The amount of effort
And energy
Exerted in the situation
Divided by the
Amount of satisfaction
Gained or lost
By the results
Of the situation
Fuck
Einstein never said that
I did
I felt smart for a minute
I guess every minute counts
Electricity (Someone I Once Knew)
How could I describe
You to someone
I could say you
Look like Julia Roberts
But you do not
Or you are sexy like Sharron Stone
But that falls short also
You are like electricity
A current running
Through veins
You can take darkness
Make it light
You can change light
Into darkness
You can take the cold
Give it warmth
Or on the warmest days
You can send chills
Down the spine
You have the ability
To recharge people
At their lowest times
Full force energy
From your soul
You can give a shock
Leaving those you
Meet trembling
Wondering what hit them
As they recover from your touch
You are electricity
The Closer at Saying Good-bye
I met her in Las Vegas
She was from
The West Indies
Her skin
Was like a shadow
Following her
Tan and smooth
Silk
She was
A dream I had
On a sleepless
Night
When my eyes
Blinked for
Far too long
Leaving me
In her arms
Magic
Of her charm
Was more than
I could comprehend
The closer we
Became
The closer we
Were at
Saying
Good-bye
Stranger
She was a stranger I saw
Out of the corner of my eye
She did not look like Lady Gaga
Or Marilyn Monroe
She was younger
With dark hair
And glasses
A photograph I could file away
In my mind
I did not realize
I must have been staring at her
As I tried to focus my eyes
On the curve of her lips
As she sat silently
Sipping upon a cola
But when I got up and left
And looked back
She blew me a kiss
A stranger I will never forget
Filed away forever
In my mind under
A kiss that slipped away from me
The Smell of Coal
I remember the kitchen
The smell of burning coal
It was the only
warmth we had
It was a mining camp
Company school
Company store
Company blues
I remember the kitchen
The smell of coal dust in the air
Coughing
and choking
Trying to breathe
But the company
owned the air
Each breath made
a mark on the lungs
Of a miner trying to survive
I remember a hospital room
A coal miner fighting
for his last breath
A breathing machine silent
The lungs could take no more
Black lung heartache
took my father
I remember the smell of death
in the room
The smell of coal
Wyoming Miners
When someone asks us
Where we are from
We smile and say
We're from under Wyoming
The land of our fathers
And their fathers too
It's in our blood
The earth within us
We're not happy in the sunshine
We spend our days
And nights in tunnels
Where darkness is our friend
The gophers and prairie dogs
Live above us
In tunnels of their own
Sometimes they don't understand
The sounds down below
In the winter when they sleep
They dream of metal monsters
Digging in the earth below
When spring comes
Sometimes they are awakened early
By the sound of fireworks
Before the fourth of July
We work the earth
Like a farmer works the surface
Following the steps
Our fathers took
They walk in our shadows
Protecting us from the sun