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Tea Among Thorns, a poem

 

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It is time for tea

and camaraderie

The seats are laid

With patterned cushions

The drapes pulled wide

And held with sashes

Lace curtains underneath

All is bathed in the light

Of afternoon glory

And this is where the story

Wends its way –

We are holding hands

Talking excitedly

We hold each other’s gaze

And we swallow in the daze

Of idle chitchat.

Eyes raised

Questioning glance

We ease our way in

Amongst the pillows

Tongues stammer

For gossip has stung

All heads turn in amazement

And then

The tongues wag excitedly

What did she do?

What did she say?

What did…

And this is where I fell asleep

Amongst the rising thorns

Throwing shade

On flowers

That struggle in the dirty confines

Of boxes

And this is me –

In the middle of voices

Raised in might

And full of glory

And I no longer hear

I no longer breathe the same air

It is unfair – sometimes

I think

Social occasions

full of promise

yet we pull the weeds

we pull the weeds

until there is no dirt

beneath them to grow

we raise them in our hands

brush the sands

and say, why little flower –

why do you look so sad?

And yet, inside they are glad

For they were the strong and mighty

Who boldly drew the lines

Who build the confines

Within which others decline

It is sad that this time –

when all should gather

full of heart

full of hope

full of promise

and yet, we don’t –

There are some,

who bathe

in the light of admiration

and they worry not

what they lay dying

in the dust of expectation

giving the impression

that they cared…

Yes, you are not as good

as the rest of us

and we are only so good

when we keep you

beneath our feet.

 

© Sumyanna 2016

 

Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: Impression

Beautiful image courtesy of my daughter Aalmas

13 thoughts on “Tea Among Thorns, a poem

    1. I really want to – but I know the time that is involved. During school we are so busy – and during the summer I’m trying to recuperate. I so badly want to, but I guess I have realized that I may just have to wait. I’ve tried competitions, but nothing ever seems to work with those. Perhaps in the future I will have the time to do it. It has been a life-long dream.

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      1. I had a feeling it would be that way.

        “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted…”

        You’re nurturing your children in the most exempliary way. When they become independant you’ll miss these days, but that will be the time to work towards, and achieve, your ambitions. You will, because you have talent and determination. If you weren’t determined, you wouldn’t be home schooling, and if you weren’t talented – well, I wouldn’t be impressed by your writing. You may not know this, but I’m very hard to please when it comes to writing.

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        1. Yes, I am holding onto hope that there will be a time. What is important now is that whatever I share or write will be left behind for them to cherish. This way they will always hear me speaking to them. The way I speak in poetry is my real voice 🙂

          Thank you for the compliment. Wearing a huge grin right now…

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          1. I keep reading your comment, and fading off into a dream. What a wonderful memento. Just occasionally, my mother used to be inspired to write poetry. There was one poem in particular… she went to stay with a friend in London, and wrote a beautiful, sad poem about the homeless people who lived in “cardboard city”. She lost all her poems. I’ve often longed to read her words again. It frustrates me that they’re locked out of reach, deep in my brain, and I only remember two of them; “Dear God”.
            It will make so much difference to your children to be able to read your poetry for as long as they live.

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          2. Oh wow – such a wonderful memory though! Yes, I think that having the desire to connect with my parents made me realize how important it was for them to see who I truly am, faults and all. They love to read my poetry and I feel it allows them a little more vision in to how I see the world. It is easy to say something in conversation, but writing somehow takes it to a whole other level. I can imagine that her poetry was beautiful. Perhaps someday you will awake from your dream remembering the lines. I have forgotten things from long ago and then one day something sets the spark and I remember.

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          3. So, your parents read your poetry… that’s interesting. I wonder if they have any regrets.
            I can see the arrangements of the lines on that special poem – it was free verse – so maybe the words will came back to me.

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          4. Oh no – my kids, not my parents 🙂 They didn’t take any interest in that at all. In fact, if you were to ask my family what I love to do… they would never suggest writing. They really just don’t ask. When we talk it is mostly small talk about the weather, etc. To talk about important things… they just aren’t interested. Oh, I do hope it does. Perhaps over time you will be able to remember it.

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