Thursday, November 29, 2018

Two Mugs / A Dollar Each

There were/ two pretty mugs for a dollar each.
I had a truck full of mail/ outside,
a sick dog/ at home
a full day/ ahead
and a heart weighted/ by a gf's silence.

I bought them/ both
and they became/ favorites.
Every morning for years/ one chosen
and filled/ first thing.

One broke last winter/ doing dishes
and the other, in carelessness/ this morning.
My time is / my own,
my new dog is/ healthy and strong,
and "choose me or lose me"/ is good advice. 

There was a continuous line/ of so many days
leading back/ to two pretty mugs, a dollar each.
A me who I used to be/ bought them both that day--
but I can't bring them back/ or now remember
who that woman was. 
_______

129 words for "mono no aware" at Real Toads.

 

16 comments:

Toni Spencer said...

Thank you for posting this wonderful poem Shay. Those two mugs and the woman you can't remember. Such sadness in this. So much time passes and so many changes happen. The breaking of those two mugs says a lot, more so than the woman you can't remember. Time being our own is the most important thing. Not answering to someone. And having a healthy pup. But still the sadness over two mugs, a dollar each.

Jim said...

I can feel for you, Shay. My klutzy BILs, each one dropped and broke a colored Fire King Coffee Mug that had belonged to Mom. I had a set of six, all different colors. My ex youthful companions? I have lost track of all, both sexes. Except for my ex, I know too well where she is living.
..

Sioux Roslawski said...

Shay--
Such a sweet poem (and I don't use the word "sweet" very often). Deep and everyday at the same time.

How are you? It's been quite some time since your last post...

Sherry Marr said...

Oh WOW, a story behind those mugs for sure, and the memories....of the dog, the woman, the "me who I used to be"..........."choose me or lose me" is very good advice. I loved this.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Oh yes, some mere things can take on so much importance, the symbol becoming itself the object of sentimentality. When they are no more, it's sad to be faced with the fact that what they represented – if only a faint trace – is all gone too.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

PS The Marianne Faithfull song is perfect for this mood!

Helen said...

I have over the years attempted to glue together, make whole again, "things" I have broken and discovered it's the memories (which I hope never to lose) associated with them that meant the most.

Margaret said...

A little time off (I hope it was enjoyment and not due to something else) and look what you come back with. Pure Gold. From ordinary mugs comes a heartfelt reminiscing ... Kiss that puppy nose for me. (Our old Goldendoodle is not long for this world - why can't they live longer?)

Kerry O'Connor said...

High five on that last line!!!
Sorry about your mug though.

Marian said...

Gosh I love this, I so relate. I think I even have a poem centered on a mug and a woman I don't remember anymore. ;)
Right now I'm drinking coffee from a mug I picked up in a FREE box down the street. Time is weird.

hedgewitch said...

This really spoke to me Shay--I don't read much these days, as often the words seem just a jumble of nonsense to my clouded brain, but this is clearing as a morning wind in winter. I think it captures completely that bittersweet self-knowledge(and life-knowledge) we get as we age, that is too late to change the past, but still sufficient to make the present what we want and need. As always, your craft shows in every line, but the last stanza in particular is golden.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Hi,
Isn't it funny how something like a mug can mean so much? I have my favorite, my grandmother's. I love your ending.

Cloudia said...

Thank you for becoming the woman and poet who shares these words that SPEAK to my heart and life! <3 Respect!

Millie said...

I do love the wistfulness as well as how the important things are the things that stay with us.

Teresa

Old Egg said...

What an incredibly beautiful poem, clinging on to your memories and mourning the loss of the mugs that were the link back to those times. I really felt the emotion.

brudberg said...

When things like that break it cuts those ties to the past... I remember a few things breaking, and it's like losing everything I lost again... but sometimes it's a good thing too, like pulling the band aid from a wound that's healed.