Too much to drink
she drops the tumbler
shattered shards
crystal dreams
Silly sailing paper umbrella
thinks it shelters glass and puddle
She sees through
gin-soaked memory banks
Cabbage patch doll, lava lamp
one in the attic
the other forever
whizzing space junk
Could have fed a
third world child
Closet corner laughs darkly at
toy luxury liner
complete with
telescope, compass
Compass never worked anyway.
-0-
Ahh! They never worked anyway.. (sigh)
Hey Ron! So glad you dropped by and read my little poem. No those toys often don’t work. Thanks much for the read and comment!
Oh I liked this Jackie, shivered images like the shards of glass. Nice.
Yay, Steve! Whoopee! hahahahaha! I’m on a high here. Thanks for the read. So glad you liked this piece!
Jackie, I enjoyed reading this and how cleverly you left the spaces to give one a sense of writing this poem a bit tipsy, as your first stanza states–terrific.
It seems lately we are all sort of reevaluating our lives, and all the *stuff* we have accumulated. What does it really mean? I could not begin to tell you. Thank you for posting this today!
Monica! How great to hear from you, especially this way! Funny, the directions we sometimes take that can change lives instantly. But I feel a life that has no regrets, is a life unlived. Thanks so much for your thoughtful read and comment. Hope all is well with you!
)
this is interesting. since i don’t drink, i didn’t see the tipsiness in this, but now that you bring it up, it’s totally there, yes.
Hi, Tammy! Don’t think you need to drink to see when someone is tipsy, right! That’s rhetorical…so you don’t have to answer, of course. Thanks very mnuch for the read and comment!
Wow Jackie! This is a whole different flavor than I am used to tasting from you, yet it is full of the same great sense of imagery, sense of life.
Nothing more disappointing perhaps than a compass that doesn’t work….Although, once one is aware the compass doesn’t work, may be inclined to explore more spontaneously. hmmm.
Thanks for this
Hi, Buddy-John! Yeah, and it’s our inner moral compass that sometimes doesn’t work. Imagine, if she took a different course…hmmm..thanks much for the read and the comment!
I like this poem a lot ~ it fills me with a sense of you both ‘now’ &’ then’ with a sprinkling of your in-betweens ~ together with the inevitable trials that you have surely experienced throughout your life … trials that you not only managed to overcome but that you overcame on your own (without a compass). There is a nostalgic note about your poem too & some sadness, tempered by the pragmatic side of you & the inner strengths that I imagine you have developed as the years have sailed by. And, of course, it has caused me to reminisce too. In fact, I like this poem more than any other of your published poems … I really do
It is revealing, isn’t it, Peter. And it is a journey. The drinking, I need to say was not the problem, but used as vehicle here to reveal. And, you got it, right on, of course, about the inner compass. Pragmatism and creativity at odds, to me, is a myth; nor does the artist need to have a dark, disorganized life in order to create. Rather, I think order helps to create. It’s values, here, that I tried to depict as wrong….wrong through wrong choices, through that faulty inner compass. But yes, there is some nostalgia, as well… That you like this poem more than my published works…I can understand that, coming from you…because it tells more about the person, about me, than the other works. My deep gratitude as always, mate!
Darn those compasses!
Never liked gin. But beer, wine and tequila… yes.
I was too old for a cabbage patch doll.
But got to cuddle my sister’s Care Bear when she wasn’t around. 
Hey Jannie! I was too old for cabbage patch doll as well, but used it as a vehicle here to illustrate waste. They were frightfully expensive. A doll! So were the lava lamps! Thanks much for the read and comment!
This is a rich, rich poem. Rich in content, rich in imagery, rich in phonetics deployed, rich in impact that it delivers. the mind focused for a moment “She sees through/ gin-soaked memory banks” and again the heart that is aware ” Could have fed a/ third world child” and yet “Compass never worked anyway.” a soul’s tragic captured so vividly!! Jackie, thanks for sharing this lovely work.
Hi, Jyoti! So glad you connected to this piece. It had been nagging at me to be written for some time. Thanks so much for your read and sensitive comment!
Hello, “over there”!!
I still and always enjoy reading your poetry, simply don’t often have the time to comment! Life is hectic, over here, and will be for a bit yet — then, suddenly, it’ll be much too quiet! Very soon…
Take care, and keep up the EXCELLENT work!
Guid:o)
aka PoetaPazzo
Guido! The universe conspires…Just thinking of you yesterday, and here you are! How strange and nice! I understand your busy life, and whenever you can visit, you are so welcome! Please just be well and fulfilled and visit whenever you wish. Thank you for taking the time to read my offerings!
))
so deep and rich in thought and meaning ~ on ‘stuff’ acummulated ‘could have fed a ‘third world child’ either now in memory store or gathering dust ~ and that ‘compass’ that ‘works’ on a few levels, for ‘not working’ (on one level disappoints and frustrates) but is more ‘stuff’ that could have had a use ~ but the ‘compass’ vehicle conveyed ~ for you Jackie in life didn’t need ~ if it worked and was followed it would always have your unique and beautiful mark ~ wherever ~ I am so glad that it ‘led’ to connecting with me ~ Lib x
Wow, Lib, you certainly gave this a thorough and sensitive read. And, I too, am glad my “compass” when it was working, led to you as well. Thanks so much for the lovely comment!
read it three times..this is deep…the paper umbrellas..the gin-soaked memory banks… and that compass that never worked…still you found your way… great use of metaphors here jackie and a really strong write
This was a poem that had to be written. Yup, found my way without that damn compass. Thanks much for the read, labored though it was…was labored for me to write as well. Appreciate the comment, Claudia!
this one is a bit haunting…all the toys we have and those that starve…and the gin wont erase them or still the laughter from the corner…nice….
Always enjoy reading your comments, Brian, cuz you get it. Thanks so much for the read and to the point words!
I enjoyed this one so much… love how you’ve used “whizzing”
Hi, Laurie! Yeah, love the sound of “whizzing” ….it kind of moves the poem along. Glad you like this piece. Thanks for the read and comment!
Fantastic! Alot of toys in my attic…alot of wasted dollars but dearly treasured memories…and you know what? I STILL write my poetry to the same lime green lava lamp I got for Christmas when I was 15…those puppies last forever!!!
Hi, Tash! Those attics have fantastic histories, don’t they…and yes the lava lamps do last forever…can you picture one forever whizzing around in space? Wonder what future galectic archaelologists would make of that….lol. Thanks alot for the read and comment, Tash!
My husband bought me a cabbage patch doll for my birthday, after I told him how much I loved them as a kid.
I love your poem! Love your descriptions. Nice!
Kellie
@BackyardPonders
http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2011/12/13/in-the-silence-of-make-believe/
Lucky you…nice husband, cabbage patch all over again! Thanks for the read, Kellie, and the nice comment!
Ah, the things we throw away…deep work, complete with strong images and message. Well realized!
A work that has been beckoning to me for some time. Thanks much for the read and acknowledgement!
like the gin-soaked memory banks and broken compass.. a nice reflection..thanks ~
Glad you liked the poem. Thank you for the read and comment!
Broken compasses… I’m still looking for one that will work. This is an inspired piece. So direct.
Hi, Steve! Sometimes we have to find our own way without the compass. And when we do, hopefully, we can find our way out of the muck and mire of waste and shame. Thanks much for the read and comment!
Good you found your way without the broken compass. Nice write, Jackie.
Ah, you got the point…through much travail, yes that’s exactly what happened. Thanks for the read and comment!
Well, maybe you didn’t want to head north, anyhow. Even when they are working, that’s the only direction those darned compasses seem to point.
But you are right — it’s really better when you don’t spill the umbrella drinks!
Lava lamps have hidden associations for me. For decades a local undertaker had one in his front office, always on, always clearly visible and glowing and undulating by night behind the window to the busy street. In my brain, still
“forever whizzing space junk.” Maybe it’s NOT just me?
Hi, Charles ! Well she seemed to get where she was going without the compass. Spilled drinks are going to occur…part of what happens in life…so you clean up the mess…point is, there was alot of waste here, ergo, she could have fed a third world child on the money wasted buying an expensive doll and lamp which is going to end up trashed. Thanks much for the read and comment!
I saw this before and liked it. Now I can say so here among so many other loving comments. Memories things evoke bind us tonthe present though their past is gone. Sometimes we cannot simply forget. Nor should we.
Yes, Chazzy, memories do bind to the past and also through lessons learned. Thanks so much for the read and comment. Much appreciated!
cluttered world, you created a true sense of its oppressive nature. Really bonded to
“Cabbage patch doll, lava lamp
one in the attic
the other forever
whizzing space junk”
fantastic way to pull the images in! My best to you my friend! ~ Rose
Thanks much, Rose, for your acknowledgement of that line, and the read plus comment!
This is an explosive piece to me. I love it…. thank you.
Thanks much for the read and comment. Glad you stayed out of the explosive path! Cheers!