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.