A Teacup Full of Stories

Hi there! I hope you enjoy this poem that I wrote this evening about the nature of words. Feel free to share it if you enjoyed it, and I’d love it if you could give me some feedback with your thoughts! Thanks x

Not all things can be thus reduced to words;

Not all sensations can fall trippingly from your tongue, or trace themselves

In ink across a turbulent page;

The words do not mature with age, and however much time you waste,

Not all sights can be made sounds, not all tastes can be touched;

Not all feelings can be sniffed out from the depths of your heart,

The shadows that you hide, the darknesses inside;

No more may you trust in metaphor to denote, connote,

The sensations that flit across your mind like starling’s wings,

A mumuration of confessions hiding

All your sins; can

The blunt fingers of your brash typists’ hand bang out enough

Black letters to profess a love that even you can’t understand;

The words are not enough, the shapes of vowels

Can never quite capture the depth of feeling of the howls you cry

Into the bleak void of an unfeeling sky;

Not everything can be thus reduced to words;

But still, we try.