Mary sits and taps
by Micha Julian
Sunday, October 22, 2006
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Mary sits and taps, taps her fingers
singed by the flame of risk, a road unchosen;
yet she taps, taps and wanders through
the life she sees behind her eyes in the dim light
She reaches now for the teacup and sips
the Peppermint Tea, tepid (but it will do)
as she is lost inside her tapping dreams,
Dreaming- awake, she sees no exit, just
falling debris from the risk she took, thought
bravely, now reduced to the sucking in
of her heart by old demons back to taunt --
the bare roots of misbegotten fortune
And Mary sits and taps, taps her frigid fingers
silently in time...
She recalls the children and closes her eyes
the peppermint flavor of a love that had begun to brew...
That now is the past,
seeming eons looking back at her.
Here, now, she now longs for their
small feet dancing and toddler answers
to questions unasked;
and seeks in a teacup this love she cannot return to steep...
frozen in this place they cannot know.
And so she sits, tapping, tapping,
as life's tepid torments lay dormant for a few
moments in time in a song sung long ago.
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|Reviewed by Rodney Bohen
|Keep writing your heart
|Reviewed by richard poor
|you amaze me all the time...|
|Reviewed by jude forese
|that's what happens when you live you life out in your children ...
good imagery ...
|Reviewed by Tactfully Naive
|Reminds me of a song I heard years ago sung by Richard Harris called Paper Chase - don't know why, not sure if the lyrics are apt, but something about a paper cup comes to mind. We drink out of paper cups and throw them in the bin afterwards. Think it may be something to do with the line 'You'll see her face, the paper face, and you'll go running from long sweet dying daydreams'
Sighing rather than running pleads here in this long moment of reflection that conjures up demons from the past. They don't come running to us, we make them do that with our wont to relive the past. We end up beating ourselves sometimes leaving ourselves luke warm for a while, and who wants to drink luke warm tea? Not very tasteful for sure.
Your poem prompted me to dredge up that song I sung - in my deaf aid way - a long time ago - I won't bother going beyond the middle eight but shoot to the fade out - that's better.
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|Micha, this reaches inside of this woman's soul and bares her pain and thought for all of us to see. Very poignant and very heart wrenching.
|Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
|Moments of a former life has a great tendency to rear its not so nice head ecery so often. I know Mary. she is me . . . and you . . . and . . .|
|Reviewed by A PAX
|Oh interesting write
the mind keeps the past alive and well, yet does not resolve the past to comfortable presence......we all have that tap....and those brewed tepid memories of "what if"
|Reviewed by J M
|This is outstanding............... has a nostalgic calming affect.|