Skip to main content

As Goes the Kitchen

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse for Sunday Muse #164. Come join the revelry!



It isn't the chicken or the egg. It is the egg cup,
First among many things lingering in the cabinet
That will need bubble-wrap;
Because it has a story and we met the potter
Who threw it a festival when we were still
Adding to the kitchen.
The egg-cup is the first of these dishes that I,
Standing by the island and crumpling paper,
Want to make sure is boxed.

-- Chrissa 

Comments

  1. hedgewitchJune 13, 2021 at 7:50 AM

    Objects can indeed have all kinds of meaning for us relating to their context, as if they were alive, our friends and connections, or enemies and curses, burdens of responsibility or bright memories that share our days--any power of life with which we imbue them, as you do so cleanly in this poem. Evocative and full of delicate nuance.

    ReplyDelete
  2. qbitJune 13, 2021 at 8:13 AM

    "It isn't the chicken or the egg. It is the egg cup," - fabulous. Perfect opening line. And the rest takes us to that moment of needing to decide what goes with us and what to discard in our lives. A reckoning with what is important, what stories we need to keep. Love this.

    ReplyDelete
  3. indybevJune 13, 2021 at 8:54 AM

    And how could the anonymous potter have known his creation was destined to be bubble-wrapped in memories of that festival afternoon. We are all gossamer threads intersecting serendipitously.

    ReplyDelete
  4. FireblossomJune 13, 2021 at 9:07 AM

    Oh yes. How many things do I have like this, that no one would know what they mean to me, or why?

    ReplyDelete
  5. Carrie Van HornJune 13, 2021 at 9:42 AM

    That first line is like a fishing lure and you drew me in my friend! I can relate to how things we have hold stories and we cannot let them go. This is lovely Chrissa!

    ReplyDelete
  6. HelenJune 13, 2021 at 12:44 PM

    This poem had me time traveling ... all the moves cross country, seven states....the precious artifacts that simply could not have been destroyed. A beautiful write, Chrissa! See you Wednesday.

    ReplyDelete
  7. robkistnerJune 13, 2021 at 2:35 PM

    Treasures are precious, and irreplaceable in their essence — really liked this Chrissa! ⭐️đŸ™‚

    ReplyDelete
  8. JimJune 13, 2021 at 4:44 PM

    Got to save that egg cup!! I think we have one some place
    but I haven't seen it since we moved six years ago.
    ..

    ReplyDelete
  9. ms_liliJune 13, 2021 at 6:36 PM

    I like your personalization of the image to your life, Chrissa.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Susie ClevengerJune 14, 2021 at 12:46 PM

    I too like how you took the image to your life. We can have a house full of whatever, but in a cabinet there is one thing that must be protected because we can't imagine grieving its loss.

    ReplyDelete
  11. kaykualaJune 15, 2021 at 11:38 AM

    Love the idea of an egg cup, Chrissa! Very popular before when 2 half-boiled was a regular breakfast treat. Fear of high cholesterol made it less seen. Now cholesterol is found to be less threatening it might make a come-back.

    Hank

    ReplyDelete
  12. SunitaJune 15, 2021 at 12:36 PM

    Such warmth and nostalgia in this poem. Made my day, Chrissa :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

To Blue Fields Far Below

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #228 , The Fashionable Twenties.  A sycamore fairy sits crosslegged in the road Dragons swim toward smooth hills above the storms Vines embrace the telephone poles  Someone washed the blue skies and she knows  It's time to dare the salty foam It's time to wade through the eternal fields' folds And gather golden apples for home.  Hoping this finds you with space to daydream and a good book in which to wander. Working on turning last week's prompt into a longer piece, as I found myself intrigued by the idea of tea in the garden as combat. Social situations are not my forte. As it's still Spider September, there will be a chihuahua-sized jumping spider that is none too happy about anything but hunting squirrels (that's for you, Mom).  -- Chrissa
6 comments
Read more

Once Upon a Future Past

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa
14 comments
Read more

Flagrant

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #217. Come be part of the conflagration. :)  Oh, they called the mob to celebrate But only the fire heard They called the mass to congregate But only the dry grass bowed A conflagration Called to prayer Hungry for light Hungry for air Oh, they called the mob celebrate Wearing flames in their hair They called the mass to congregate Faceless in the burning air.  Greetings and salutations. I'm not sure what to say--we're not celebrating the 4th this year (not that I'm prepared to cede one holiday to the authoritarian idiots in charge of our state, but our grass is still dry from the heat and we have a dog terrified of fireworks...so we're celebrating by bunkering down and watching Howling 2  at the gleefully deranged suggestion of my sibling) and otherwise I've turned our dead corn plants into the basis for this year's Camp NaNo project...it's turning into a weird year, the kind of year where I'm reading more horror than norma...
7 comments
Read more