Tweetspeak Poetry

The Poetry Club Tea Date ✨ Every Morning

By 21 Comments

the tea
Welcome to this week’s poetry club tea date!

Get your favorite steep (or brew) and join us in writing a quick poem based on the following lines, submitted by Every Day Poems reader Sandra Heska King. The lines are from the recent poem delivery Every Morning, by L.L. Barkat:

if only I hear
the expectant cup

Sandra wrote this poem based on those lines:

The Expectant Cup

The potter has passed.
His cup, now mine, expects
the sweet scent of jasmine—heaven sent.

Your Pour

Take a moment to write a poem based on the shared lines. Then add to the comment box (with a touch of cream and sugar) so other club members can enjoy.

✨

Looking for more inspiring lines? Check out the Every Day Poems poetry club room, where we feature additional favorite lines submitted by readers.

startled into finding my own wealth rabindranath tagore

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Comments

  1. Bethany R. says

    “the potter has passed”

    I like how you’ve completely changed the scene here, Sandra. Creative and beautiful.

    L.L., what a fun way for the community to come together here. You’re always thinking. Always making. Which reminds me of today’s Every Day Poems title, “Hacedor.”

    Reply

    • L.L. Barkat says

      I hadn’t even processed the title of today’s poem. Now I need to reread it in that light. Glad you mentioned! 🙂 I do love to make. Even if some things eventually get unmade in time. Like building block towers as a kid.

      Sandra, I was completely predisposed to write a poem with an expectant cup in it, because I was focused on your title. But then I let the first half of the phrase work its way into my spirit, and it led to a 3-line dream poem stirring around the idea of “if only I hear”…

      Wineberries, silent.
      The mourning dove.
      Gold of the sun.

      Reply

    • Sandra Heska King says

      I had to look up Hacedor. It’s so fun to sense all these connections.

      Laura, I just finished reading Journey into the Whirlwind by Eugenia Ginzburg. At the end she writes about discovering cranberries near where she was felling trees in Siberia–“berries a red so deep that they looked almost black.” From then on, she said, “we went into the forest not in despair but in hope.” She believed those hidden berries helped her survive. She called them “berries of golden wine.” (A quote from poet Igor Severyanin)

      Thanks for sharing my lines. This is a fun way to prompt myself into a writing a few words. 🙂

      Reply

  2. deb felio says

    ragged, unseemly, I wander
    my sins have brought me low
    shamed, outcast, forsaken
    where is there for me to go

    I kneel again, bowed head in prayer
    my name spoken, my eyes look up
    I take the bread, almost forgiven
    if only I hear the expectant cup.

    Reply

  5. Bethany Rohde says

    Morning Mind

    gliding out of dreams and landing on creamed-coffee hopes,
    the rising scale-music of the filling cup,
    the half-inhale which proceeds the
    sip

    which one
    the deepest delight?

    Reply

  6. Lucinda Hill says

    My Expectant Cup

    It greets me each day
    Expecting my need,
    Accepting its place
    As I pray and I read.

    It sits on my table,
    Sometimes on my desk.
    My cup, filled with coffee,
    Waits and expects

    To hear my voice whisper
    A prayer from my heart.
    No morning’s complete
    Without prayer at its start.

    One day, I ran late
    And was still half asleep.
    I rushed to make coffee,
    And then had to leave.

    If only I heard
    My expectant cup say,
    “Slow down and breathe.
    There’s still time to pray.”

    For nothing is wiser,
    Nothing compares
    To a good cup of coffee
    And a sweet word of prayer.

    Author Lucinda Berry Hill ©

    Reply

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