A teapot whistles, violates
the solid silence
some dreams boil
A knife slices
some cake,
vanilla rises,
some hopes evaporate,
some memories
desublimate,
some curtains oscillate,
the past
and the future fall
asleep
A stranger's legs climb
the stairs
A guest's hands knock
the door
9 comments:
This is a pure work of magic.
You've done wonders with a teapot whistle!
Hey DF, nice to see you here again!
Mashkuuur:)
the last two couplets are simultaneously perplexing and comforting to me, and i like that. it isn't an easy answer.
You poetry is truely transportational and transformative, Sherry.
himm like a thriller:) you lock the reader in the present, and in between the window and the door, between the tea and the vanilla, the lover and the beloved...
Simply lovely, Sherry, very abstract, like a teapot's steam.
Jason, I am glad that it was somewhat comforting to you. Thank you!
Paul,I wonder where/which realm you were transported to. Thank you!
Koz, that is an amazing analysis. Thank you! I think that is why I like poetry...Like a wishing well containing all coins/pebbles thrown into it by passerbys, poetical expression can give birth to various interpretations/imaginal experiences number of which is the same as number of readers.
Emandy(P.Point), it feels really good everytime you drop by like that with a lovely bouquet of comments. Thank you!
Did you predict the stranger person who noked your door and entered the narrow space of your days here ??
Yes:)
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