"potful" poems
The teapot is now full.
How long the time has been.
The aroma is so fragrant.
Thoughts and laughs are blending in.
Through the flavor of the leaves,
Hidden contents are revealed.
Though inside the painted glass,
Taste betrays against its will.
Potful after potful,
While the hours sneak away.
Struggles and life’s many woes,
With each sip no longer stay.
Though at first the tea is tasty.
Though it’s easily refilled.
It just can’t last forever.
The pouring soon is stilled.
The last cup is too bitter!
The last word is the same!
The teapot is now empty,
Till teatime comes again.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
without a vision
people are rarely reminiscent,
of what they have been seeking
and fall into a deep torpor
maybe its this slumber
that makes them realize,
all they wanted was right there
in front of their eyes.
there was a girl, brave and bold
carried in her heart, a potful of gold
searching everywhere, knowing nowhere
where she would get her answer.
with such strong desires held in her soul,
a fire ignited in her heart
as she wandered into the dark,
the rustling of a brook, somewhere in the woods
where she would often sit by and ponder
'Is happiness all I seek?
or is it just one of life's very old tricks
and maybe it reeks?'
with such a heavy heart
she walks alone into the woods,
contemplating whether life is something
that she never really understood.
Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 6:34 PM UTC