Cher Ami

 

For this first month of a New Year, I thought I'd do a first of my own, with a second. 

What I'm trying to say is that this time for the first time I'd offer you two poems.

I'm happy to say they're both quite short.

Actually they are a pair anyway.

A pair of chairs.

Van Gogh's painting of his own chair is probably better known than that of his (for a while) friend Gaugin's. I've always found that humble little empty chair backing into its corner with the box of onions and simple tiled floor nothing less than poignant. 

Gaugin's chair however with its arms is slightly grander: here we have not one but two light sources, a couple of books and what looks like a carpet.

But neither chair is upholstered – they're both essentially basic, sharing certain similarities. Seen as a pair, they make suggestions about friendship – about welcome, suitability and preparedness; while at the same time, they both speak of absence – not just temporary, but also perhaps that imminent falling-out of the two erstwhile friends, not to mention poor Vincent's more permanent self-willed absence.

No doubt much has been said and written on the (auto)biographical nature of these two chairs. I thought that along with bearing in mind those themes of friendship and absence, I'd focus on the chairs themselves, their construction and purpose.

Gaugin's Chair

 

Fall into my welcoming arms

I shall give you rest.

 

We've been evolving – grown together

to make a comfortable fit

 

waiting here just where you left me.

In many ways like you

 

I think. Yet not. No head or neck

but a back to give support

 

and legs of course – I have four

to be stable and secure –

 

and arms – just two – you don't need more

to match each one of yours.

 

Nor elbows, ankles, wrists or knees

since I've no need to move

 

my feet are fixed, set down to take

your weight as well as mine.

 

So come to me, your faithful friend –

we're meant to be together.

Van Gogh's Chair 

 

Nothing is unnecessary.

Sturdy legs are braced to take

the weight four square with cross bars

holding all together as well as

keeping them apart. Now note

the seat of tightly woven rush

to give support although no one

has come to sit.  Instead he's left

his open baccy pouch and pipe –

light things for which he may return

and then perhaps sit down once more

to lean, allow the little chair

to take his weight again and light

that pipe, stretch out his legs or leave

the empty chair he freshly painted

forever waiting.