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 frozen.
She reaches now for the teacup and sips the Peppermint Tea, tepid (but it will do) as she is lost inside her tapping dreams, frozen...
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 haunting spirit... frozen.
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, frozen as life's tepid torments lay dormant for a few moments in time in a song sung long ago.
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.
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"
sigh
pax a
Reviewed by J M (Reader)
Reviewed on October 22, 2006
This is outstanding............... has a nostalgic calming affect.
The Free Preview includes excerpts only. The full print edition is available from Barnes and Noble. Both the print and electronic editions are available from the publisher's Web site ("Malignant Self Love - Narcissism Revisited").
The Narcis
This book operationalizes the profound teachings of the Enneagram so that coaches and other growth-oriented professionals can use specific processes,tools and strategies to empower and support the transformation of their clients.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Rodney
good imagery ...
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.
Fee
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"
sigh
pax a