deepundergroundpoetry.com
Broken Teacup
- Broken Teacup -
Into my mind, I go seeking some peaceful truth,
But in the thousand shards of my feminine soul…
There is a darkness that no light can ever undo!
I am lonely; there is no one that can soft console,
The child who lies at the core of my spirit’s being…
Who cries herself to sleep, and runs from noises!
Then I remember the way I was taught of seeing,
Beyond life’s terrors, beyond all of fate’s choices…
Into the heart of totality, and I know I am strong.
Some see me as an angel, others: something else,
I see only a little girl, who knows what is wrong…
And what is right; I go by what I have always felt.
But, I never feel perfect, or as pretty as I desire…
Like a broken teacup: once of whitest porcelain.
They smashed the teacup, burned it with hot fire!
Everything that makes me pure, others called sin.
There was no emerald city over the far rainbow…
I was lied to when they said I could travel hence.
All I saw were the mountains and the cold snow,
I felt naked and exposed, without a true defense!
There was no place like home, but where is that!
Not the place I grew up, the family that hates me.
Only my beautiful gardens, where so often I sat…
Longing, and pining: for some pleasant company.
If I closed my eyes whilst on the bench reclining,
My garden could seem like some heavenly realm.
I could imagine I had a lover, no longer so pining!
Then I could dream, letting the beauty overwhelm.
But if soon my love comes not to grace my arms,
I might perish from pining, and fade into the dusk.
Will they find me lying silent, asleep in my charms?
Then will I be burned, or start to crumble to dust…
Having died of a broken heart, of hope shattered?
Like a broken teacup, dropped unto marble tiles!
I have been smashed; and, I have been battered…
Yet I always rose again by the power of my wiles.
The winter covers my gardens, and the old bench,
So I know I shall not die there of loneliness today.
The air is chill enough to make one’s teeth clench!
Chill and silent: like, a broken teacup’s sad grave.
I try to sing, and dance, and be the child I wished,
That I had been when I was in my younger years!
Am I mad because my innocence is undiminished?
Perhaps I am merely tired, of weeping sad tears…
And so I giggle, laugh, and act like some little girl.
The child inside me, the porcelain doll, the teacup,
Who was broken and abused by the whole world.
I have come to far to die, too far to ever give up…
And so I pine for love, and my hope pounds hotly!
But hope does not plant a flower garden’s seeds…
Nor can hope alone grant me a lover’s fair reverie.
If there be one who understands my heart’s needs,
Then please tell me you are reading what I write…
Because life can be as hard as a marble tiled floor.
You must always be separating wrong, from right!
But in the larger tapestry, there must be far more…
Than a blind obedience: even to one’s own beliefs.
If I believe in love, then let me be given a fair sign!
Before I perish, my heart taken, in a sea of grief…
I must find my strength, and dream one more time.
Into my mind, I go seeking some peaceful truth,
But in the thousand shards of my feminine soul…
There is a darkness that no light can ever undo!
I am lonely; there is no one that can soft console,
The child who lies at the core of my spirit’s being…
Who cries herself to sleep, and runs from noises!
Then I remember the way I was taught of seeing,
Beyond life’s terrors, beyond all of fate’s choices…
Into the heart of totality, and I know I am strong.
Some see me as an angel, others: something else,
I see only a little girl, who knows what is wrong…
And what is right; I go by what I have always felt.
But, I never feel perfect, or as pretty as I desire…
Like a broken teacup: once of whitest porcelain.
They smashed the teacup, burned it with hot fire!
Everything that makes me pure, others called sin.
There was no emerald city over the far rainbow…
I was lied to when they said I could travel hence.
All I saw were the mountains and the cold snow,
I felt naked and exposed, without a true defense!
There was no place like home, but where is that!
Not the place I grew up, the family that hates me.
Only my beautiful gardens, where so often I sat…
Longing, and pining: for some pleasant company.
If I closed my eyes whilst on the bench reclining,
My garden could seem like some heavenly realm.
I could imagine I had a lover, no longer so pining!
Then I could dream, letting the beauty overwhelm.
But if soon my love comes not to grace my arms,
I might perish from pining, and fade into the dusk.
Will they find me lying silent, asleep in my charms?
Then will I be burned, or start to crumble to dust…
Having died of a broken heart, of hope shattered?
Like a broken teacup, dropped unto marble tiles!
I have been smashed; and, I have been battered…
Yet I always rose again by the power of my wiles.
The winter covers my gardens, and the old bench,
So I know I shall not die there of loneliness today.
The air is chill enough to make one’s teeth clench!
Chill and silent: like, a broken teacup’s sad grave.
I try to sing, and dance, and be the child I wished,
That I had been when I was in my younger years!
Am I mad because my innocence is undiminished?
Perhaps I am merely tired, of weeping sad tears…
And so I giggle, laugh, and act like some little girl.
The child inside me, the porcelain doll, the teacup,
Who was broken and abused by the whole world.
I have come to far to die, too far to ever give up…
And so I pine for love, and my hope pounds hotly!
But hope does not plant a flower garden’s seeds…
Nor can hope alone grant me a lover’s fair reverie.
If there be one who understands my heart’s needs,
Then please tell me you are reading what I write…
Because life can be as hard as a marble tiled floor.
You must always be separating wrong, from right!
But in the larger tapestry, there must be far more…
Than a blind obedience: even to one’s own beliefs.
If I believe in love, then let me be given a fair sign!
Before I perish, my heart taken, in a sea of grief…
I must find my strength, and dream one more time.
Published 12th Feb 2013
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The author encourages honest critique.
12th Feb 2013 4:06am
12th Feb 2013 8:27am
Indeed! How utterly rude dj. If you've nothing nice to say, then it is best to say nothing at all. As they say. *Wink*
More to the point, there is a reason my poetry is known as "epic" in style, and it is something I have rather a reputation for around these parts. So when you read one of my poems, you can expect it to be not exactly on the short side. Lol.
Plus, I wrote this poem to express some things about myself, and I am a rather complex woman. I couldn't possibly say such things in only a few lines and convey the same emotions! So there is that fact too, to consider when reading my poetry - I write from my heart, mind, and soul. So people either love that or hate it.
Plus, I wrote this poem to express some things about myself, and I am a rather complex woman. I couldn't possibly say such things in only a few lines and convey the same emotions! So there is that fact too, to consider when reading my poetry - I write from my heart, mind, and soul. So people either love that or hate it.
12th Feb 2013 8:32am
12th Feb 2013 8:56am
Why thank you, dearest Grace! Your kind words are a blessing to my heart, as always my friend. :)
