Nothing is ordinary,
Unless you choose to ignore
The succulence of extra-ordinary -
When each spoon fits the perfection
Of teacups, or the warmth of mouths,
And soup ladles curve, cradling broth,
Dipping like swans’ necks into painted bowls
Steaming with nourishment -
Nothing is ordinary,
Not when you remember hands engrained
With dirt and hardship,
Working the stiff and strength of clay,
Fingers learning the flesh of the stuff,
Coaxing shapes of unparalleled simplicity
But extraordinary complexity,
To carry water, or the grains of wild grasses
Ground to flour by stones selected for that purpose,
The intelligent re-purposing of that time -
Nothing is ordinary,
Not when I treasure their modern kinder-
Plate and mug,
Bowls for oranges, raspberries and lime -
Vases for mint, rose, and chamomile,
Nothing is ordinary,
Not when chairs hug me, hold me
Round armed, like other peoples’ mothers,
Designed to fit my bones, my age-bent skeleton,
And I can look through windows, barriers to the weather,
First wrought by Egyptians, Romans,
As raindrops plash and flounder on the roof
Sheltering the imitation of our existence
Whenever we believe, so arrogantly,
That life is ordinary
Comments
I think that the truth...
lies somewhere in between. I do believe that things only become ordinary when we let them. Depending on how we think of them, anything can become extraordinary. Yes, to think of the skill it takes to make something out of clay, iron or any other material, that makes it different, an exception to the rule of ordinary. The thought that goes into making something that is functional, from something not meant for that purpose, to fashion a plate from clay or wood, to make a piece of something in tandem with other things for a larger purpose, is in itself a marvel. Your use of the word succulence for instance; makes the word suggestive of a broader meaning. [I love the title, by the way]. Your language use is very good, and I saw the meaning in everything you said right away. The pace is steady, and I didn't stumble anywhere. The theme is very well presented and i felt that it was smooth from beginning to end. Well done. ~ Geezer.
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Thank you, Geezer. I feel so
Thank you, Geezer. I feel so much the same - the skill, the patience, the learning to make something from the raw materials into something which - once, no-one even knew they needed, like plates! And then, plates became decorated, painted - and things of beauty
I have been surrounded by (mostly) men who have been inventors in their own backyards, fiddling and re-purposing, and recycling (before anyone even knew how to spell that word or give it a dictionary meaning), hoarding bits of metal, found objects (often of unknown origin) and wood for 'that' day. I honour them.
Yeah...
I don't know if you have read my profile, but; "My wife says I'm a hoarder." probably rings a bell? She had to admit that I saved the day with some little thing that I did last week, because I had the right thing at the right time. LoL
However, with the qualifier, "How often is that"? I have at least [three] junk drawers, where most only have only one, two at most. Oh well, I feel some vindication at least. Thanks for a great piece. ~ Geez.
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The Succulence of Extraordinary
Hello, Jenifer,
What "extraordinary" language and poetry. One line flows smoothly onto the next, traveling through the physical makeup of ordinary things, then revealing the beautiful human touch and imagination behind those things.
"...fingers learning the flesh of the stuff..." An active image - I felt the clay myself.
Wonderful.
L
Thank you, Lavender... I have
Thank you, Lavender... I have just had one of those days, so reading your comments gave me such warmth and pleasure.
A balm to a tired soul - thank you!
Very welcome!
I really enjoyed this poem!
L