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...
This is brilliant, Alan. Such a wry extended metaphor, and an echo of Billy Collins in the Only the lamp / always the lamp. I love every bit of this poem--and it makes me think of the objects I've bought, small things or up to furniture things, that I buy for the life I sort of want, but I don't want it badly enough to make it happen. Like buying furniture for larger gatherings even though we never HAVE larger gatherings...Your poem really resonates with me!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Laura for your generous and affirming response. I frequently invest a significant amount of time in the pre-writing rehearsal and this poem felt like it came together in a rather special way. I loved your furniture fossicking ruminations. The internal monologue is familiar.
DeleteSo bittersweet! How is it you packed so much emotion into your poem and made me feel for this little table? Your last line is perfection. Thank you, Alan.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your considered remarks. If you felt a sense of empathy for the little table, then I have truly reached you as a reader and that pleases me immensely.
DeleteAlan! I loved everything about this post. So clever. The tinge of sadness in “it learned the weight of stillness” is gorgeous and made me feel connected with this occasional piece of furniture. Playing cards, pressed hands, and condensation rings are such wonderful, tangible images. The feeling of being second string in the furniture line up – poor table! And that lamp! Always the lamp. 😊
ReplyDeleteTracey, you have gleened so much from the poem and the table whose dreams remained unfulfilled. Appreciate your affirming comments.
DeleteOh, my goodness, I love this so much! I love an object with feelings and this table’s longing is both droll and poignant. I’m so glad the idea kept swirling in your head. :)
ReplyDeleteI love that you love this poem, Karen. And like you, I am most grateful for those swirling thoughts...
DeleteI love this. I have two occasional tables that were from each parent. You may have sparked an idea for me about the stories they hold. They are over a hundred years old.
ReplyDeleteI love the line "the lamp, always the lamp" and the line with the chees and crackers.
Thank you, Jone. your comments are appreicated. You are right, Ideas exist in things and your occasional tables are worthy of investment.
DeleteAlan, you are right, your poem is full of whimsy and sadness. I loved all the details, the hopes of the occasional table, the longings to not just be a dust collector with "only the lamp, always the lamp." I like the stanza of all the No's that the little table doesn't get to experience. Well done. Thanks for telling us how it came about too. That was fun.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Denise for your considered feedback on the poem. The backstory is always worthy of consideration as part of the process of a poem's making, I believe. I frequently provide that. I also advise teachers to share the process of their writing with young writers whenever possible, so its engrained.
DeletePoor table, so full of unfulfilled potential and yet so steady and ready for service. I wonder what the lamp has to say about the table?
ReplyDeleteUnfulfilled potential very much sums the situation up, Mary Lee. You have pondered a further consideration regarding lamp and table relationship.
DeleteI like a good narrative poem, Alan, and you really nailed it. This poem would be good to match with something in my "If you like that, maybe you'll like this" project. I feel like there are many books and movies where the main character is bored and disappointed (until something exciting happens).
ReplyDeleteThank you, Tabatha. My poem and I would be honoured by such considerations as your project. The film scenario you mention is indeed quite common. Unfortunately my table seemed to be trapped without any hope of exciting change on the horizon.
DeleteOh gosh... "Only the lamp/Always the lamp" -- I think the lamp needs its own poem-response.
ReplyDeleteWhile I was focused on the table, lots of love for the lamp, it seems, Patricia.
DeleteI felt so much emotion, a feeling close to loss reading this. Sometimes I feel that my own occasional tables had something to do way more often, yet I've never loved parties all the much, or have been to the wrong ones.;) I thought this poem was brilliant! Janice Scully
ReplyDeleteMany thanks, Janice, your response warms me. When the words evoke a response from a reader, then they are doing their intended work, so it pleases me that you felt such emotions. It has also served to draw attention to your own occasional tables...
DeleteThis is great! I am all for getting to the emotional heart of an inanimate object!
ReplyDeleteI stopped and said "Aww... " out loud at this line:
Dust arrived more faithfully than starring roles
Settling on its surface without invitation.
I LOVED this Alan. I hope you explore other objects soon.
So glad you enjoyed this poem, Cathy. Interesting that you mention more of this type of poem. I've just started a collection nominally titled, 'Housebound' and it has 24 poems already -furntiure, family and house related activities included.
Delete