like a chipped teapot
spouted
so many times
heated words
pour out.
how many leaves
misread
until never returning
all that remains
the game of English
so perfectly cued
left
upon a table
of eight pooled pocket thoughts
to scratch not the surface
of dawn
never felt
now sunk in chalk.
initialed
the cup and saucer
still rattles
on a weakened shelf
no longer usable
its once held future unseen
reverberates denial
while half light
of full sun
forever penetrates
the missing valance
of a curtained room
drawn in mourning.
with yellow flower
decorative name
now cast out
no handle on it
self
becomes the hallmarked gold
of ones cowardly description
painted
in significance
bleeding all colors.
forever unforgotten
steepled
everyone is taken aback
and I
with wind at sail
praying
to move forward.
I'm ever amazed by your use of words. It's most definitely a great talent to be able to bring words together so beautifully and still invoke such vivid imagery. Another great one.
I agree with Kate, the last two lines of her review describe your writing very accurately.
You created such an effective and lasting atmosphere in this poem.
After reading this, then everyone else's reviews, then, reading it again, my first impressionable thought that came to mind was how my mom only dipped her tea bag twice...we laughed and called it "colored water" then, I thought of the title, "infusion", and how my grandmother, English, like she was, took such pride in her afternoon teas. It had to be Boiling water, and the bag had to steep for at least ten minutes and curse you if she didn't have a cookie to go with it!
The two were like night and day, if my Nana said it was black, mom would say it was white...and, between them, several chipped tea pots, kept them speechless toward each other, sometimes for a year!
Yeah, there is something about that tea from China! LOL!
Excellent piece, John...I think I'll go an invite someone over for a spot! ;)
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
well John great poem, enjoyed your format and expression, seemingly I faltered to going backwards, every now and then my verse go negative and kind of mean, sometimes I delete it, but I always apologize to the good loving
you always get me quessing - and wondering if I'm seeing your experience correctly = now I remember like me and like anybody you have a past to deal with and probably a precious one at that. I'm thinking how just these past weeks I've been sorting my old family knick-knacks and those relics of lives now over and wondering myself how to "move forward" or if there is anything left on my blank page.... some thoughts spawned by yours...michael
Reviewed by ~ Holly Harbridge (Reader)
Reviewed on May 16, 2008
Oh how well you know the game of English...the riddles, the slander, the hurtful words, but like a (master poet) you have excelled with this piece. Watch...soon your followers will be great!And Many, blessings Holly
I always seem to get lost in your poems...in a good way...but I find myself relating so many different parts of my life to your poems and I forget that it is a poem I am reading. So I take myself back and reread from where my mind went out on a tangent... and I find another parallel that takes me off again. I love that your poetry says so many things on so many levels...thus allowing the reader to visualize and relate to what is written, to the point that they become one with the poem.
Your first two stanzas are my favorite...and they immediately sent me on that mind's tangent...when heated words poured forth and were misread and now...nothing remains of that once beautiful friendship and the proverbial tea cup stands empty...on a weakened shelf...but forever unforgotten in my mind...wishing, always wishing, that "we" could move forward instead of having gone in very different directions.
For an Earl Grey English lass like myself, this conjures all the mystery and drama of the social histories of Olde Families - whether they be of nobility or yeoman. As witnessed by a small child (who should, of course, be tucked up in bed!), it speaks to me of sneaking peeks through half-closed doors late at night, gazing into smoke-filled rooms and catching the low murmurs of adults as they berue the ravishes of time on family pride and heritage. My summary here is far more prosaic than the wonderful scene-setting and ellipsis of the beautifully observed imagery and telling detail; so much more grounded than the flights your layered thoughts take us on, which, as usual with your work, could easily fill the pages of an exquisite novel. But, like the "I" here, I would be the child-turned-adult longing to fill my sails and move on... Your phrase about "all the tea in China" used to be one of my mother's favourites and carries for me connotations of both an admiring disdain and haughty resistance. Awe-inspiring work as always. I also wrote a poem entitled "An Englishman's Home" today which was a very wry and concrete look at the fabric of life within our own four walls. Bless you, John. I so admire the way you manage to write on several different levels at once - and take the reader with you. A rare gift. Again, this is so multi-dimensional. TY Kate xx
Oh how our mouths are like the chipped teapot, issuing forth venom from within instead of patiently waiting for a cool-down period to make things right. Even the aged and experienced are guilty with the same, and it may be that way even to the end. And what a "pool" of words in the second stanza. Very clever. Wish I had time to continue, but I must run for now. Perhaps time will one day permit me to administer true justice to your work. Blessings always. You deserve the best of praise. David
I love that every stanza takes you to a different thought in time and yet they all converge at a focal point to give great meaning at the end...everything about this poem sings of renewalfrom a broken past. This is great John! Two thumbs and a pinky way up...lol
infusion...a perfect title for this wondrous poem, John. What you pour to us is ingested as we feel the sharpness of the chipped teapot.
With clever metaphores, you sweeten "all the tea in china". thank you, friend.
Blessings and Love ~~ Micke
Thank you for sharing this meaningful gem, John. Love and peace to you,
Regis
Reviewed by Gianetta Ellis (Reader)
Reviewed on May 12, 2008
Your writing is the perfect blend of intellect and spirit - both painted with the brush of life experience. There is an underlying 'strength' in this write - a certain 'resolve' that captured me.
So many thoughts so touching, I could picture that little chipped teapot spotting off, like we sometimes do in anger. Once the words are out there, we can't take them back. This touched me as your work always does, but there was something in this one, that stirred up something inside of me. Thank you, Love, Bonnie
From the chipped teapot of imperfection to the 'moving forward' this piece is a stunner! And those closing lines... WOW! A phrase we've heard over and over but your words give it new substance..
Wonderful work, my friend!
Myrna
Your writing here, make me think of a bird, a big one that can go flying from that rocky perch from the top of the mountain or not, knowing that only he has the power to move those mighty wings.
The poem is like its fly, the conquering and the regret of a missing prey, the elation of roaring up and the sudden panic of falling for no reason. This review, as your metaphores should be understood by those that do can "fly"
Metaphors abound in this poignant poem. Fitting pieces together in this tea cup of life which is filled by our many experiences, some bitter and cold others hot as the love poured into it.Yet both are consumed.
Under Amber Skies, written by author and poet Jill Eisnaugle, is a wonderful collection of rhyming poetry guaranteed to please every reader. In this, her second book, she writes of new friendships kindled, as well as old friendships solidified. She g
A further collection of poems, many from years in the Middle East, but also the California San Francisco and Central Coast areas (Santa Cruz, Carmel, Big Sur, Berkeley, etc.).
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You created such an effective and lasting atmosphere in this poem.
Axilea
katie :)
and open even more - doors.
Leaves one on a path to soar!
Hoping you find what your looking for.
Doug
I enjoy your fantastic profound poetry
Peace be with you
William
The two were like night and day, if my Nana said it was black, mom would say it was white...and, between them, several chipped tea pots, kept them speechless toward each other, sometimes for a year!
Yeah, there is something about that tea from China! LOL!
Excellent piece, John...I think I'll go an invite someone over for a spot! ;)
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
Your first two stanzas are my favorite...and they immediately sent me on that mind's tangent...when heated words poured forth and were misread and now...nothing remains of that once beautiful friendship and the proverbial tea cup stands empty...on a weakened shelf...but forever unforgotten in my mind...wishing, always wishing, that "we" could move forward instead of having gone in very different directions.
But then... that's what's in my cup of tea...
Cryssa
Harold M. Nash
Newfie Hugs, Rose
Blessings and love,
Susan
With clever metaphores, you sweeten "all the tea in china". thank you, friend.
Blessings and Love ~~ Micke
Regis
Wonderful work, my friend!
Myrna
Christine
misread
until never returning
all that remains
the game of English
so perfectly cued
left
upon a table
of eight pooled pocket thoughts
to scratch not the surface
of dawn
never felt
now sunk in chalk.
(I hate you . . . I should have been the one to write this, you skunk!!!!!)
The poem is like its fly, the conquering and the regret of a missing prey, the elation of roaring up and the sudden panic of falling for no reason. This review, as your metaphores should be understood by those that do can "fly"
Georg