The Occasional Table Poem, Alan j Wright

Recently I was watching an episode of 'Antiques Roadshow' (the UK version) when the words 'occasional table' were mentioned. I immediately thought of tables small in size including coffee, side, and end tables, designed for social gatherings in the home, occasionally employed and variously used to present light refreshment, drinks, snacks, or possibly the playing card games and the like.

Much to my surprise the words 'occasional table' sparked my interest and for a number of days ideas swirled in my head, spinning like clothes in a dryer. I have no idea why these words persisted in my thinking, maybe the specifics of nomenclature, can account for my interest.

I found myself engaging in some personification to tell the story of an occasional table, beset with unfulfilled ambition. The resulting poem is clearly tinged with sadness and whimsy. I wish I could turn the tables, but alas.

The Occasional Table

It was named for designated moments

For gatherings

The soft setting down of glasses amid conversation

and displaying light refreshment.

But those designated moments

Failed to materialize

And the years passed without assignments.

Lodged in the corner of the loungeroom

It learned the weight of stillness

Supporting a small lamp became its quiet duty

While dreaming constantly of active service

Proudly hosting a platter of vol-au-vents while guests

mingled

-even cheese and crackers would have disrupted

the tedium.

Dust arrived more faithfully than starring roles

Settling on its surface without invitation.

It listened with anticipation

To distant clinks and clamour from the kitchen

To the many distant voices that never reached out.

And so evenings folded into each other

without ceremony or employment.

No playing cards dealt across its surface

No hands pressed in emphasis

No rings of condensation marking a memory.

Only the lamp

Always the lamp,

That small sun, intermittently shining.

And still it stood

Lodged in the corner of the loungeroom

Faithful to its name

But never enlisted

-not even occasionally.

Alan j Wright

It is once again, Poetry Friday and our host this time is Rose Capelli at Imagine The Possibilities. Please visit Rose to discover more about her April writing project where she explored the writing of Tanka poems. You can also discover what a host of worldy poets are delving into...

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