“Butler” (Poem about “Place/Setting”)
Place Setting (Napkin, Knife, Butler)
His hands a monument in themselves,
the fingers Trafalgar columns, tensile
dolmens, though not monumenting beauty
so much as making it. There was nothing
not worth doing, if done well.
A deep well was the
laundry sink, one whose whitewash
rusted blood-blue about the drain, though
he used shallower basins for
the napkins, a glisten
of salt, and, too, a secret substance (champagne) for
the stubborner stains, a fluid he also applied to
shoes aside the polishes, – cordovan, ebony,
jet– words rolling
off the tongue like pitches surmounted–those napkins,
once de-stained, folded,
sculpted, pressed, an origami of named magnificence–such
decadence to sit on a sodding lap–but he didn’t really
care for that part, it was
the spectacle. the gleam
and flow upon
the board–the mitre: linen trained to pray; the
mortarboard: napkin squared
upon napkin frame; the lotus, petals starched; fashioned
one by one upon
an ironing board anvil, felted white
above chintz cover, a flowery green/peach that might have graced
the wallpaper of a boarding house hyphenated on sea; his silver
knife blades mirrored
your nose sniffing the acrid de-tarnisher that blackened flesh and possibly
someone else’s soul–not, seemingly, his–the ink of the Magna Carta still
fluid in his veins, and beating
Hitler. What he craved was
excellence and, yes,
its particular acknowledgement,
(which his linen marvels drew)
raised in a London orphanage,
where kerchiefs looped necks, and
corners tucked, and praise, perhaps, was
doled out, if at all, like biscuits at tea, sparingly. The evening pumps
he shone upon the enameled washing machine
and proudly showed off (as worn
by hand)–the crafting
of beauty always something
of which to be proud–glinted
like Andromeda in opera’s
velvet night; the water glasses
sparkled too, every single bit
as much as the wine.
***************************************
The above draft poem (revised this AM again) was written for the wonderful prompt by Victoria C. Slotto for dVerse Poets Pub to write about “place/setting.” (Yes, I know; I’m not sure this is what Victoria meant.) It is based upon Leslie Lowndes, who made a living as a chauffeur/butler, was originally a Cockney from London, and also one of the most wonderfully kind and talented persons I’ve ever known.
The picture is of a light sculpture by Jason Martin, which, when lit up (in a not very good photo) looks something like this:
Tags: "Butler", cockney butler poem, Jason Martin light sculpture, Leslie Lowndes, manicddaily, poem about place settings, polished silver poem
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ManicDDaily 
June 21, 2012 at 11:09 pm
i just love how you describe him… and i just love when people, no matter what they’re doing…even in the small things, do it with devotion and in the best possible way..want to do things excellent…makes such a huge difference.. he seemed to be loving what he was doing..
June 21, 2012 at 11:11 pm
Thanks, Claudia.
June 22, 2012 at 3:35 am
I love the whole poem – great topic – beautiful writing
June 22, 2012 at 3:51 am
I have to go with Claudia here: other people’s passions, their enthusiasm for what they do is always inspiring. What comes across here is not just another’s craft and insight, but your own as well.
June 22, 2012 at 5:14 am
I am there in Hudson’s pantry in Upstairs Downstairs; in the dining room at Downton Abbey, or rubbernecking at Chatsworth. All quintessentially English.
June 22, 2012 at 6:28 am
well you bring your character to life….this is rich in painting that picture….and i applaud as well…the viewing of others that most might not see or know…there is often much value in that…excellence is a doubt edged sword…great when done, but can become consuming…
June 22, 2012 at 7:27 am
You made him come alive…your poem is very rich in details but clearly he is proud of what he does as evidenced by the clear sparkling glasses ~
http://everydayamazin.blogspot.ca/2012/06/from-my-window.html
June 22, 2012 at 8:45 am
I was thinking Anthony Hopkins in “Remains of the Day” for the Butler. I love how your poem shows his priorities and how you captured his the pride of place in the details like the napkin and the kerchief, little pieces of cloth which each tell a story.
June 22, 2012 at 10:13 am
Beautiful language here, k, to produce a very clear and telling picture of not just an individual, but his place, the place he made through love of beauty, attention to detail, desire to excel. We all have it in us, yet so few of us are able to bring it to our work in life. And the reflection of place and setting in place settings adds a nice layer, too. My favorite lines are rather subtly snuck in here and there, the mitre/motarboard/lotus part, the boarding house hyphenated by the sea, and the ink of the Magna Carta. Fine writing, a pleasure to read.
June 22, 2012 at 11:02 am
Thanks so much, Hedge, for your sustaining comments. k.
June 22, 2012 at 10:36 am
This is perfection, Karin–how the butler’s character emerged from the details you paint. In a way, I felt like I was on a luxury liner, traversing the Atlantic. I’m not sure how further revision could make it any better than it already is! Hedge’s comments touch on some of my favorite aspects of this work of art.
June 22, 2012 at 11:01 am
Dear Victoria, Thanks so much for your kind comment and for all of your kind comments. You know there are some pieces that one feels very insecure about, and this was one for some reason. I woke up this morning just feeling sick over it–couldn’t really look at it, added some odd edit or two without looking at the whole, took it out again, just felt terrible, determined to stop blogging late at night, and maybe to stop trying to write poetry altogether. (I really think of mhyself as a prose writer), so very glad that you liked it. k.
June 22, 2012 at 11:02 am
ps – that was Victoria, not Vitoria – on iPad! k.
June 22, 2012 at 2:12 pm
i enjoy the napkins, linens, and kerchiefs running so securely through this piece. The wine at the end wrapped nicely back into becoming something in contrast to napkins and whitewashes. Such a fun piece to read, k.
June 22, 2012 at 4:15 pm
Thanks, Jane.
June 22, 2012 at 3:26 pm
So cool…what a really innovative take on the challenge!
June 22, 2012 at 4:14 pm
Thanks so much, Shanyns.
June 22, 2012 at 5:23 pm
For me, there’s always this question about the artistry that comprises the life of the humblest. I am enthralled by the notion that people can turn the most mundane act into pure artistry. That’s the lesson of the Zen tea ceremony, the emphasis on work in Marx, the genius of Emerson and Thoreau. You bring to life the intensity of spirit of this man, his pure pleasure in doing something I would do so haphazardly, if not resentfully, given the social circumstances. Simone Weil says there’s a spiritual side to manual labor. I think your poem captures that spirit.
June 22, 2012 at 8:52 pm
Thank you, Charles. K.