Christina's Teapot

Andrew Wyeth's painting (1968) "Christina's Teapot"

The only thing that remained

Was the fragile teapot,

Chipped and glued,

Filthy with memories of struggles

And babies born in the bed nearby.

The children raised and gone

Stare over their shoulders

For a lifetime

At shattered pasts.

  

 

Cautious sunlight fell 

From a window broken

On a day long done,

The guilty boot abandoned

As if shame and sorrow lay

In the burnt sienna field of wheat

Where the downward slope of their land

Stretched lazily beyond the door;

Beyond the ruined mantle,

And Christina.

Reviews

[Yira Simone]

This was powerfully written! The imagery was excellent as was the flow. What I loved was that she went through life with that tea pot, worked hard, lived harder, and all she has to show for her dedication to this house, this life is her battered teapot. I gather that teapot has strong sentimental value which is why she has made sure it has endure all this time. This was very good.-Catrina

[The Ever-present State ..]

Again, great sense of allusion and mystery. But this time, it makes me want to know more. I don't think this piece is the place for it, but somewhere the story needs to be told. Actually, this could read just as beautifully in prose... it would make for a damn good first paragraph. It's almost faulknerian (is it bad to refer to a southern author as faulknerian?) in it's approach to character... especially that sense of connection to the land in those last lines.

[Gandré]

this was a memory about old times. what is left is just this. melancholy par excellence. luv it.

[Angelheaded Hipster]

I have read this one over, and I like the style of the write.
It seems depression era....so sad, everything covered in dust and cracks...
This is another lyrical write of yours that I really like...

[TL Boehm]

Cautious sunlight fell

From a window broken

a line to savor...to fully immerse myself in. this poem is highly visual - yet it pulls at my memory...
beautifully written.

[Emily B]

Every word is so descriptive, I can almost picture the room and the field all around. Someone's whole life could be wrapped up in the lines of this poem. A hard back-breaking life, but beautiful with its chips and cracks and dirt.

[Danielle Thilette]

I love it. I love the imagery.