The Chair Tells Stories
I open the door and the bell does a chime
My presence is made known to those who’ve arrived
My appointment was scheduled for 12:30
But I came in at 12, just in case she finished up early
I’d rather be safe than end up sorry
Her time is money, so she cannot wait
I took my seat on the chair against the wall
One of the few chairs that weren’t drowned in hair
I looked in front of me at the pictures
I wonder what’s the story behind them
I listen to the scissors performance
The music ends, and she says that it’s my turn
She dusts the hair away and I sit down
But the hairless chair failed to last long
One thing that I love about poetry is the ability to tell a story in such a few amount of words. Poetry has always been something that I naturally have a love for. There are many different kinds of poetry. Some kinds follow a distinct set of rules, while other times you can just do whatever you want. I appreciate the amount of freedom that poetry allows a person to have. You can express anything that you want too with multiple stanzas or just a few lines. I typically like to rhyme in my poems, but I chose not to in this one. Rhyming comes so natural to me and it just so fun to do, but I also like the way that a poem does not have to rhyme. The possibilities are truly endless. I find that I am able to write best when I have a specific idea in my head. I can not think on an idea for too long, and try to create something that was never there in the first place. I have to already know exactly what I want to execute before I actually start on my piece. It helps things flow more smoothly for me. Writing drafts is a great way to get all of my ideas down. Sometimes at night I will have a random burst of inspiration, so I will open my notes app on my phone and write out everything until I feel like I have a stable base for one of my pieces. The prompt for this poem was to write about a distinct setting, and for some reason the idea of writing about a hair salon seemed so perfect to me. When I wrote this poem I had hair that was all the way down my back that I just didn’t know how to love any more. I dyed it, I cut bangs, I gave myself layers, but nothing ever satisfied me for long. I damaged my hair in the process and I knew that I had to let it go sooner or later. My hair meant everything to me, so cutting it off was something that was far from easy. It took a few months to detach myself from its hold, but once I did I knew that I was ready. When I cut my hair off I felt nothing but relief. It felt good to have a fresh start. I cut off 17 years worth of hair and I regret nothing. So if you have to take one thing away from my poem, it’s do whatever you want with your hair. Remember that it will always come back, so if you’ve ever thought about dying it a new color, cutting bangs, or going completely bald, do it. It will all come back one day.
