Poem: Ode to a Tea Kettle

Sometimes in the midst of this busy world I leave my laptop behind, grab a pen and paper and head to my local coffee shop. There, I sit down with a plain-ass latte and spend hours watching passerby, letting my observations influence my pen. I wear a beret, too.

Ha, right. This poem was actually an assignment for my poetry workshop class. I can’t believe I decided to take poetry this semester — during Ad Team, of all semesters — but I’m so glad I did. It’s given me a reprieve (however short and not at a coffee shop) from the high-stress, fast-paced NSAC. And what better way to relax than a cup of tea?

Ode to a Tea Kettle

Through the years,
solid:
metal handle,
stout base,
fireproof;
the stoic
kitchen-
mother.
Too constant
for indecisive
cutlery,
too proud
to live
with pots.
Sautee pans
and Japanese
knives
look down
their cultured
noses
at the
homely,
stable
kettle.
Why?
Envy —
She is always
on display.
They,
in cabinets
and
in drawers,
know
she is
the favorite
one.
But
she is
endangered,
found only
on gas-burning stoves
in gray morning
kitchens
of poets
and
dreamers
who cling to
tradition.
She is our ritual:
filled with
water,
on the
burner,
turn the
handle,
wait;
comfort:
steadfast
metal and iron,
concrete and
reliable;
release:
water boiling,
bubbling
up to
a shriek —
she cries
for us
the kind
of cry
we
can
never
conjure,
except in
our
hearts.

 

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2 thoughts on “Poem: Ode to a Tea Kettle

  1. Beautiful imagery and diction in this poem, Loryn! My wife has a case of too many tiny tea kettles. Her grandmother always sends a new porcelain kettle in the mail, it seems, once every month. They look good on the shelf but we’re running out of room! This kettle would be the perfect subject for a shape poem. Its silhouette is easy to recognize…maybe you could give it a try? Hope you are having a wonderful day 🙂

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