Pink Tea Cup

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Pink Teacup

The young don’t typically understand how the heart’s
a pink teacup;
they imagine something more bird, or if they consider
inner breakables, tend towards
the ceramic–a mug perhaps
with a jolly motto: “you don’t have to be crazy
to be me
but it helps,” or
“drink up me hearty–”

But as one ages, one feels the glass inside
grow thin, become bone china, have a harder time holding
the hot,
and the question one asks, increasingly,
is not whether the cup is half-full or half-
empty, but where the damn cup
went–

Chipped at
the lip, fine-lined by fissuring cracks–
Who, one wonders,
would ever cherish the pink teacup
the heart has become; one hopes for a person, who,
when they look into their belled
swallow, takes joy in
a certain aubish glow–
aube being the French word for dawn,
which, if you are like me, seems a fairly reliable test, since
any one saying aubish is not likely
to raise their pinkie with
any pretention but
to be generous with their socks,
at least, so the chest that holds
that old cup
hopes.

***********************

A rather odd, but I hope, entertaining draft poem for Grace’s prompt on With Real Toads to write about “pink.”  Actually, one of my personal favorites of my poems is a sestina called Pink that may be found here.   This is one of many poems and draft poems written each day this April 2015 National Poetry Month. 

 PS – this has been edited since first posting. 

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8 Comments on “Pink Tea Cup”


  1. This is so gentle and sweet. I love your bone china!

  2. Snakypoet (Rosemary Nissen-Wade) Says:

    I think it’s lovely.


  3. The image på a thin porcelain tea-cup is very nice. I love how you can take a metaphor and turn it back and forth getting all the details…

  4. Grace Says:

    I admire how the heart is a pink tea cup & I learned a new word – aubish ~ Love the details here ~

    Thanks for participating K & wishing you happy Sunday ~

  5. Mama Zen Says:

    This is really outstanding, K. Really lovely.

  6. hedgewitch Says:

    From a graceful beginning to a super-apt metaphor, to a bit of endearing down to earth gab between friends, this poem is like piano music to me, a perfectly modulated sequence which tells us everything we ought to already know about our pink teacups, chipped and fragile or sometimes misplaced, but ready to offer a sip when needed. Hope all is well with you, k.

  7. Kerry O'Connor Says:

    But as one ages, one feels the glass inside
    grow thin…

    So true, Karin.


  8. Oh, hon, this is perfectly pink and all chippish, but that cup still brims with wonder! A very nice metaphor for friendship. It’s like settin’ down with a good friend for a chat over coffee, tea.. or whatever you feel like filling the cup with, right? Nice, the way it thins to bone as the poem goes on. Amy


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