I attended an excellent poetry event last week, run by the Needlewriters group, based in Lewes.


Their event has inspired me; I haven’t written a poem for several weeks, perhaps a couple of months, and I managed to write this today.


So, here you go – a poem about my mug.




Comfort-satisfaction steam-feathers my mind;

my mug has this aura, a soul –

a presence that, when I see this crafted, ergonomic beauty,

I enjoy pre-consumptive, pre-experiential, pre-appreciative mind-flutters,

I feel the blood-tingle, the brain sparkle,

the caffeine induced dull-relief sharpened clarity.

My mug.  I feel you. I would love you.

Had I not shattered you upon my floor.

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