A poem I wrote while my father was in hospital so it is a little disjointed but since his death, I felt the need to share it - probably won't re-write - this is me:-)


Jar

I have a jar, filled with oranges and brandy,
chopped suet and the dried fruits of summer.
There is dust on the lid, which I painted
and sits, far far back on the shelf.
I made it in my summer days, the hazy ones
where I lost car keys and took trips to the moon,
where I held sticky fingers and wiped snail trails
from black blazers with gold braid.
I mixed it in a ceramic bowl, strained
and stained the muslin cloth,
put in finger falls of brandy, then a drop
and perhaps too much, there is always too
much and even now, just a twist of the lid
brings out the special smells, of cinnamon
and oranges and spices.
One day I suppose, someone will take it out
and because of the dust on the lid
it will be relegated to another kitchen
on the darkest side of the shelf.



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 746 times
Written on 2015-01-09 at 20:13

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This is special:)
2015-01-13



Elle, how I love this poem! It's full of flavors, colors, scents, and nostalgia. It reminds me of life and of things left behind and the treasures found in an old house. It reminds me of the young woman carefully making the concoction when life was busy and carefree, and of time passing. It just reminds me of life with wonderful scents and flavors. I love it. I can taste it and feel it.
~Ashe
2015-01-10


countryfog
Intensely evocative and elegiac.
The ending reminds me of a poem by Donald Hall in which he and his poet wife Jane Kenyon move back into Hall's childhood home after his parents passed and find one old jar of maple syrup that his grandfather had put up twenty-five years earlier . . . what might have been thrown away was instead dusted off, the brittle rubber seal broken, and they dipped their fingers in and tasted all those years of sweetness.
2015-01-10



I agree with Lawrence that this is right up there among your best compositions. You've created and perfectly described an aromatic little time-capsule of memories and things that are important to you. Dust seeks out everything and gives it a soft patina.
2015-01-10


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
You're not really talking about the jar, are you? This is an amazing poem. I don't see how you could change it.
2015-01-09