New Year

tea


New Year

How transparent you’ve become:
even the leaves blow through

your pockets, and penitents
line up, awaiting the latest word.

Those who have, fear the most.
Each day collapses under its own

weight, rising again into the new.
Surgery brooks no illusions;

this house, too, will fail.
Owning little, I pour tea and wait.

bench

 

85 thoughts on “New Year

  1. Pingback: Tea Leaves | The Poetry Channel

  2. Each day collapses under its own weight … yup! Same for each year. Probably for each hour, if one paid close enough attention. Your somber line about surgery stirs me to ponder surgery on levels human and much broader. Coffee at the moment, but tea might be a good hourly watch ritual …

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Happy Grumpmas, Sir Robert. I know all about failing houses, and the patent limitations of hope, but I find myself (despite myself) daring to live in hope’s possibility every now and then…

    Right now, I’m watching a live feed of newly hatched eaglets, and I’m reminded of the precious, perfect ugly-beauty which can (must!) be born of cracked houses.

    Also, it can’t hurt to fantasize about some choice excisions and cauterizations — and so I will be indulging myself with abandon, as I, too, bide my time.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. “How transparent you’ve become:
    even the leaves blow through” — So true in so many ways. Marvelous poem, Robert. This morning I look out the window into the world and wonder . . . what will this year be like, and me a part of it.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Here’s to the failing houses; I’ll watch like you, not by any stretch idle, in this little shelter, keeping what rain I can out of my cup. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Oh, my dear fellow!

    ‘How transparent you’ve become:
    even the leaves blow through
    your pockets, and penitents
    line up, awaiting the latest word’ –

    You can’t imagine how I love your words.
    I once wrote like that –
    I was a better man in those days –
    now I merely explain what I mean …
    rather than say what I mean —
    I remember the difference.
    Oh God, I remember the difference.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. HI Robert, your poem is beautiful! Every day I pour my morning cup of coffee and look for my hope! Maybe I should switch to tea :). Thank you for stopping by my blog and taking a look! Happy New Year!

    Liked by 1 person

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