The Empty glass

The empty glass

is neither optimist nor pessimist

but the discarded disregarded dregs

of an empty Anarchist

waiting to be refilled

the bitter sharp sour aftertaste

of citrus tainted love

                  the lemon and the lime

leaking acidic baroque dreams

an empty chalice

valise

the depth and taste

are a solid kind of nothing

a sudden lump

of undigested love

there is nothing behind

the transparent walls

there is nothing

no parables to drown

                  to drink

no echoes in the sky

there is no thing

but an empty glass

waiting to be refilled

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

The glass here of that Anarchist has been well and truly drained of every drop and those lemons squeezed to a pulp. Saying I enjoyed the metaphor here is almost cruel. Perhaps I should rephrase that to the empty glass being a great metaphor.

The bitter sour sharp aftertaste
of citrus tainted love. Your feelings unmistakable here. You even got acidic into your expression.

I liked the repetition, the word nothing and then no thing. Just for emphasis.

I ask myself whether the writer is ready for a refill. Another pint?

Excellent expression here gram.

Chris

[gram linski]

haha, aye go on then, Chris, will have one for the road (to rack and ruin), lol,

[Beccy]

Perhaps a hair of the dog might do the trick; or maybe a little less gin and more tonic. :))

Can't imagine anyone in this world of ours has not experienced being an empty glass at one time or another.

An intriguing write.

[gram linski]

hey,, Beccy, thanks for the read , a little less gin and a bit more tonic and a little more understanding as Elvis would say, lol,

[Beccy]

Ah yes, I know that song, both mum and dad are fans.

[R.E. Ray]

Gram, I think the "empty anarchist" detests clinches and titles, like pessimist and optimist. He knows life isn't so easily bottled up or poured out. This has a Charles Bukowski feel to it, but certainly in your own unique style. It's raw and brutal but truthful and genuine. You write like no other! Nice work.

[gram linski]

wow, thanks man, uncle Buck is an old friend of mine, high praise, wrote somewhere else about life tasting the same bottle or glass, and reading some of your whiskey poems I know you feel the same, thanks again,

[Robert Trakofler]

Is the glass the conduit or the container... did it do its job or is it simply found wanting and empty? A tiny drilled hole drain at its base waiting to be refilled to fulfill its purpose? Of course the cure would be to place a finger over the tiny hole to stop the incessant leakage:) I spent a long time trying to eat my soup with a fork and I'm not saying this can't be done with a bit of persistence mind you but the nutrition to effort ratio was rather poor to say the least:) so I use a spoon now.... clever metaphor brother chaos

[gram linski]

clever review, chaos brother, thanks man, the secret of the fork is the flick

[Eilis]

When I first read this, I was thinking of it as the glass being something in possession of that Anarchist. But, the glass is the person himself. Can’t decide which view is more discouraging, but neither are particularly good, are they.

But, if the person and glass are the same—perhaps the glass representing the spirit of the person—than there is the hope that there is possibility of the glass being filled once more. There is very little we can do to alter or control love since it requires the return/cooperation of another person. But, when we, ourselves, are the objects, then there seems to be a bit more of a chance we can find a way toward something good again.

Did you know I was an eternal optimist, haha. At least when faced with empty glasses that need refilling. I mean, I fill my coffee cup at least five times a day to offset the hours of sleep I missed out on.

I joke, but, in truth, I find the idea of utter emptiness unsettling. I’ve been in that place and know the toll it takes. But, also know that everyday can bring something surprising. The dregs can be rinsed away and the glass filled little by little with something life giving. Maybe the glass isn’t filled to overflowing all at once, but sometimes, a little sustenance goes a long way.

Poetically, I admire the carrying through of a metaphor. You do manage to come at us with things that I wouldn’t have predicted. Baroque and valise in one poem, and they both add to the tone and understanding.

Ramble, ramble. I’ll stop rambling. Not going to say I enjoyed, but will say this gets at something essential about being human, and that’s one of my favorite things about your poetry.

[gram linski]

thank for reading and not enjoying, Eilis, haha, don't worry the empty anarchist has got a little bit of sustenance in his glass these days, the emptiness doesn't swallow me up any more, just lurks in the background laughing to it's self

[jacob erin-cilberto]

no halfway loved or unloved...simply nothing at all...
wasn't that a song by Air Supply..."it was nothin' at all"?
Those were the days...and they weren't good ones when love was completely un-reciprocated.
but the hope is that an empty glass can get refilled, and might.
j.

[gram linski]

thanks, j. haha, always spot on with the musical references,