The Kettle

The iron kettle is bigger than me.
Wiser.
It boils water and sings, shakes, lives, does not get hurt.
It can burn my skin.
I look at it from every angle,
Open it,
Touch the bottom of it,
The inside of it.
I knock on it,
Fill it with sounds.
It has a strong simplicity.
It is clear, brilliant and deep.
Immediate.
It will survive me and my daughter and my daughter's daughter and her dog.
It will contain more water than our bodies put together.
I, am opaque, vulnerable, full, changing, soft, breakable, unopened.
I want to be the kettle,
See my skin turn into an iron armor,
My inside boiling,
Steam suddenly and loudly coming out of my teethless and gaping mouth
Before someone empties me and fills me again,
Leaving me warm and shaken.
And there.

Reviews

[Jack...]

Wow, this is so cool. I like the feeling of this piece and the desire to be indestructable I believe lies in all of us. Very nice and unique.

[Chris]

The mind meanders well on a chill afternoon/eve ...kitchen stove/fireplace flames dancing... kettle seting - thoughts beginning...

[Pete Langley]

This contemplative piece has a fresh, clean, untainted feel poetically - not naive, just open to all eventualities. A very original approach which I like a lot. P.

[Louise-Charlotte]

Thank you very much Pete.

[Emrick]

You have very unique ideas.
Cool poem!

[Louise-Charlotte]

Thank you!

[Michael Kevin Spencer]

Was this translated from french? It has a lovely sound like some foreign person's sweet accent traces its contours.

[Louise-Charlotte]

It's interesting to me to know how you hear it. No it hasn't been translated from French but it's the first poem I wrote (I'll publish the more recent ones too) so I guess my poems, maybe mostly earlier ones, have that French accent people can still hear sometimes when I talk, which makes me smile.

[Michael Kevin Spencer]

Yes I would like to read them, you bring something different to the language.

I will read them all.