Seema joglekar


Twilight In A Tea Cup! ! ! ! - Poem by Seema joglekar

When we first met;
Our friends squatted for tea in a newly painted eatery,
Growing weightless with Joyce, Sartre, Pyncheon & Proust,
Mugs &Mughals collided, intellectual dislocation sanitized,
Like on a conveyor belt, revolved on the metaphysical rifts
in the philosophical firmament,
When the hour of the wolf dawned & the howling began,
Illuminating discussion we handed it down like vermiform appendix.
Evening exchanged junk food for soul food amidst the aroma of tea.

Our tea dabbed in colors like a heterodox, reflected twilight in evening mist,
Plotting her teasing gold’s miserly, ethereally hem lined trees
Dallied with darkness, like a damsel in mock protest,
Gold rims of tea cup stalled heuristic breeze
Casting a ruse, scurried in high octave to test.

On tea surface -clouds floated with an orange-tipped smile,
blurring distances in dimensions, devout shadows asserted fidelity;
Cuckoo strains corseted us, stars dropped splashless
throwing their histrionics in purple velvet
Manicured Moon the shape of a spoon, swam like a trout
hung low, making the short journey between sight &touch.


* * * *
Plummeting the din, my chatter dared them to intervene,
Eyes locked, I just bartered away the world, bequeathing another unseen, .
Then glanced at that growth trespassing around the collars of your shirt,
I swallowed my tongue, defensive, gave a reply- curt.

Knowingly you passed me the sugar; hands brushed, sugar forfeited,
Conversation dropped to a caress, atoning, allowed others to fill the empty spaces,
The transient hour was implored; tea questioned the aftermath of the discord,
Awoken; dashed for the milk, under the table occurs the untoward.

Legs innocently touched, we just reached critical mass,
Twilight tethered at the edge of a deep dark crevasse,
Silence drew on the essence of “Being &Nothingness’’,
“Dubliners’’suddenly made sense!
A little louder than the clanking of my heartbeat.


Yet, neither beat a hasty retreat,
Content to drain in the chatter of our friends,
As Mailer &Updike bid goodbye, we got to our feet with a sharp sigh,
Prompted, I gulped down my black sugarless tea.
I don’t take black sugarless tea,
And you don’t take tea-!

And I would still like to take tea with you,
Even if, Sartre takes offence& the night has forgotten all its hues.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 11, 2010


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