The Vase

                        The Vase

there on the shelf of my best pronouncements

polished purple and pink

a rose so to speak

warm bodies in the house 

can't contain the empty cold

quiet browns inside 

stained with rag doll morals and attar

dusting politely the

water marks

waterfall streaking

water falls like cotton

quietly 

 ...................................................................................

E.

10/13/2019

Author's Note

Reviews

[R.E. Ray]

E., my great grandmother had a similar vase in her living room. I remember it was fine China with intricate colorful artwork, and someone had broken it years earlier. I recall the cracks, the faint dried glue ooze, and yet I never looked inside. I think it might've been her mother, Lettie, who died during the 1919 influeza epidemic. This memory is from the 1970s, so the images are blurry now. Still, your poem and the photo took me back to that place and time, much like what you've described here, "where water falls like cotton... quietly." This poem touches the heart and time, and that makes it extraordinary.

[Einstein Noodle]

oh God bless your Great Great Gramma! how precious to hold even faded memories like that R E! our heritage .. always has cracks and brokenness in it ... we wouldn't be human otherwise me thinks .. i am feeling pretty good this touched you so my friend ..thank you so much for taking time ..and for sharing this bit of your history ... wow 1919 influenza epidemic .. going to go a-googlin' on that .. peace brother!
E.

[Eilis]

This almost feels like the wisdom of an ancient haiku series. Elusive is a great word, but the sense of things is so full and like a water droplet waiting to let go and explode on the table below it. Sometimes the poems that say the least can make us feel the most because they are leading rather than instructing us in how to read them. They want to be absorbed as a subconscious idea and leave a lasting impression.

This is one of those poems. I think it will say something different to every reader and if each reader returns, perhaps each new reading will present something deeper and more revealing. But different. It's like viewing the natural world in its ineffable beauty. Some things are better left to themselves to unfold as they will. To be appreciated for being.

A great poem here, E. I love the way it whispers, like a voice from the future and the past swirling together around a moment.

[Einstein Noodle]

Wow Ellis! spot on in your review .. abstract is leading but not showing for sure .. how blessed i feel right now ... i could not agree more with what you have said .. thanks for taking time and making this your own moment :))))))))))))))))
E.

[Eilis]

My pleasure, E. I'm glad was able to offer something positive.

[Pryde Foltz]

My mind goes to the bric a brac a house will accumulate over the decades. Each piece obtains memory, some of them heavier than their size and monetary value could ever hint at. A vase becomes the bearer of angst, loneliness but also beauty. Great metaphoric piece, E:)

[Einstein Noodle]

thanks Pryde .. lots of wisdom in your words .. i have been trying to work on the elusive metaphor .. thank you for mentioning it ;))) love and joy
E.