The rain falls in my tea.
In the special cup with red leaves.
Plastic.
Unbreakable.
I hold it tight in my hands.
As I pace back and forth.
Grasping on tight to the white rose.
Vulnerable.
Wet behind its petals.
I stroke it good morning. A soft whisper.
I lean forward. Incline my head.
Trying to hear. Tell me what is left inside what is left.
The mirror does not answer.
I snap the camera in the single hour of darkness I am allowed.
Hold my finger to my lips. Lick.
I find it in the morning. When another day is gone. When last night is nothing but a figment. Shattering like the mirror spilling out of room 23.
The rain falls in my tea
It hides me. What I feel.
My little red leaves like the candles around the stoup.
Back in the place I cannot remember. Don’t remember.
My plastic unbreakable stoup.
I wipe the water on my temples in the dark in the window with no curtains with blood on the walls.
I wish my cup was empty.
I wish it could be more.
25 comments:
Props to hide behind. Some people wear glasses to do just that because they fear anyone looking too deeply into their eyes and they are afraid of what these people might see in them. You use props too, but in a way that's useful to your inner growth and not necessarily to hide from people but maybe to, give yourself that tiny slip of hope where there is none.
You fill your small world with colour and life, where there is none. The red leaves, the white rose, the blood on the walls.
The very fact that you wish for something, more or less is a good thing. Where there is life, there is always, always hope.
Another amazing write from you Jae.
Every word you write is like a little wound for your readers. It hurts and and we fling ourselves around trying to staunch the flow of blood from this prose. Poor rose, beautiful rose, perfect prose.
I love "the rain falls in my tea"...this whole piece is trong and boldly visual. I agree with Daydreamer too, there is hope in this. Everything will be okay. Trust the process, my friend.
Thank you so Daydreamer..
A single rose..not red..drained of life and colour..thank you OldEgg..bit tiredly today..
Thank you Laurie..always appreciate your encouragement..
Jae
good morning, and thank you Ms. Jaerose,,,
I like the rain falling in the tea cup. I love poems about rain..big plops of rain falling on baking cement is my favourite..wet petals,rain is a wonderful thing...we hardly ever get any.
Good morning and thank you also Glenn..always a pleasure to share a cuppa with you.. j
Rain is good..providing you have an emotional anorak..thanks Rallentanda..
Jae
don't we all hide our wounds and ourselves sometimes. I love the colour that is in this that brightens your world.
I've missed experiencing your work.
Wonderful, just as I remembered :)
Ah, I definitely sense a smidgen of hope in this! Love the symbolism of the cup!
drained of life and color
past
new life and color
pour in
future
bright
1 like the way you use the cup in this piece, the way you hold on tight, and bring it back in at the end. 'Your cup runneth over'.
Well told!
I'm pleased to see the white rose is a motif again. Lovely and moving, especially juxtaposed with the plastic, unbreakable cup.
You really should make a little self-pubbed book of some of your favorites. There isn't much poetry I would bother paying for, but I'd pay for yours.
Thank you Sheilagh..
Good to see you too Ren..thanks..
Thanks Linda..
Brightness back..thanks Kim..
Thanks Andy..let's hope it's full of beer!
Thanks Ann..I wouldn't charge you
Jae
Clutching on to the last straw of hope, the special plastic unbreakable cup which turns into a stoup gives assurances, a positive declaration intended to give confidence and a promise!!
There is a bit of softness in the first half and towards the end indecisiveness resulting from a failure to make a choice between alternatives.
"I wish my cup was empty.
I wish it could be more."
are very meaningful lines!!
Interesting mood piece; moving...
you know white roses are symbols of purity but also of new beginnings. I couldn't help but think about Jesus asking his father to take the cup that he had to drink away from him...sometimes our cup is filled with things we wish we didn't have to drink, but I am clinging with you to the white rose - looking towards new beginnings, feeling the hope caught in something beautiful in a place where beauty is nearly impossible to find. It seems like something inside you is clinging to that even as the outside feels more like a tree whipped in the wind, losing it's leaves. Fall is here but spring DOES come again though it seems to be so slow sometimes. Hang in there Jae...rest under the winter snow, seeds will sprout and you will be in the sun again.
O. Jaerose, your poems of late are just
breaking my heart...exquisite and emotional.
Your seeking of yourself, the way these words
make love to a past that filter thru. each
line is beautiful.
I said once, that you remind of Plath, however
now you have surpassed Sylvias' poetry in
my mind and heart.
Absolutely stunning, evocative -- your words are like music that plays a lush and haunting song.
You continue to amaze me Jae..what an imagery..Rain falling in my cup... more or empty..for me perhaps first would be to have a cup itself.. unbreakable..colourful.. Thanks Jae.. a beautiful write... you know what I love in your poetry.. an unpredictability.. when you start reading you don't know where will it take you.. well done..
The teacup is a good place to be. Think of how we hold teacups...nestled in our hands, keeping the contents warm, letting the liquid warm our hands and hearts. We cup you in our hands and hearts, Jae; you warm us as much as we warm you.
Wow, thank you so much for all your comments..I will be back to reply one by one..Jae :)
It is the half way to being that makes the cup unbearable. That and, maybe, a tendency to come equipped with pills.
Absolutely..a cup should never be unequipped..thanks Alice..Jae
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