Talent in Teacups

This is a poem about my favourite uncle. Someone who above all taught me a love of music and that everyone has hidden gifts. He is infinitely kind, all I can do in this life is to try to emulate him.

Mute, my uncle never learnt

to count beyond the number

of sugars to stir into his own cup of tea

or to read beyond the suns slants and angles.

He can only thumb through picture books

 

- pause at towns he knows.

remember their beaches’ scent

or chill of their blue-rimmed mountains;

the taste of pub food eaten

when my mum was a child, half a century past;

 

recall the clink and splash of a Shilling

his brother rolled, by accident, down a drainpipe;

the exact yellow of a canary some sixty years dead;

the next door neighbor’s smile

as she asked for milk.

 

He knows how to fit jigsaws

in the way a well-trained conductor

leads an orchestra. He doesn’t need the pictures,

only the touch of his smudged fingers,

for that is how he plays the piano.

 

Eyes tight shut, swaying to that melody

hidden in his head for seventy years

and never voiced, but always, like a vinyl,

secreted in some dusty sleeve

ready to be picked and listened to.  

 

 

Reviews

[fireblossom]

You took me there. I pictured the little farm where I lived for some years in my youth. I know the smell of farmers coming to the kitchen for a cup of coffee after milking. I know of an old long dead grandfather who was a poet but who no one read till he passed past our praise.

To break this down for you:

You set the tone in the first few lines and in the first stanza as a whole.

My uncle never learnt
to count beyond the number
of sugars to stir into his own cup of tea

He was a treasure of experience inside that mind of his. How many took time to listen or to draw him out?
You then go on to show us why he deserves our respect.

He knows how to fit jigsaws
in the way a well-trained conductor
leads an orchestra, he doesn't need the pictures,
only the touch of his smudged fingers alone
for that is how he plays the piano.

Really great writing. A cut above.

[Sanjeeta Sharma Pokhar..]

Simple-yet-touching art !

[LJW]

What an honest look at a simple life profoundly stated.Excellent work.

[h d e rushin]

amazing...hder

[Distant horizons]

Perfect. Wonderful description of what truly counts in life.

[Phibby Venable]

beautiful from beginning to end, Sel, and I love the
ending...those last lines bring a perfect ending...he
is so alive and honored by this poem...sounds like
an excellent human being (as are u)

[Southern Cross]

Our accomplishments made on this earth, are most dutifully measured in the memories we stir . To remain in someones mind's eye is what gives us immortality. A beautiful tribute to a wonderful man. Lovely written in its simplicity yet deep descriptive portrayal.

[Jibey]

Lovely, sympathetic portrait... and what a great image to conclude with - the vinyl in its jacket. For me it was just right.

[Rachel Knight]

This is gorgeous. It speaks to me about what it really means to lead a good life, and to be a worthwhile person. Those are some powerful messages to capture in a poem.

The closing image of a vinyl record is good, but this piece is so excellent that I would experiment with other ways of ending it to see if you can't come up with something more powerful.

[Greystone]

Awwwww. C'est magnifique! :DDD My question: Is this meant to be prose? Some lines rhyme, and some don't. Some lines line up syllable-wise, and others don't. I'd look into that, and decide on which direction you're going with this--very beautiful---sentimate.

Keep Writing.