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
Have you ever tried to get your work published? You’re very talented – but perhaps you don’t have the time to think about it… I admire you fro home-schooling your children.
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
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…
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I thought it sounded unlikely…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. They don’t “follow me” in any way shape or form 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
They sound like very cold people
LikeLike
My Mother always says, Sumyanna, that it takes all types to make a world. Lucky for you and I, we can chose our friends and what social events we attend.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your mother was correct. And yes, I do truly feel lucky about that.
LikeLiked by 1 person