Tepid Tea

October 31, 2014 § 4 Comments

Sipping tea at the table,

Safe here, warm too.


Stormy damp out there,

Something in those black shadows.


My homeful existence.

God is great, good too.


Take a peek, he says,

Gulp the tea, slide the door.


Feel the fertile maelstrom,

Wind and wet leaves.


Looking back into the hollow lit up box,

Table, mug, silence, light.


Always walled in, or walled out.

Inside, outside.

Alone, herded.

No matter.


If I am here,

He is there.


Slide the door,

Back again.

Safe from sound.


Have some tea, he says.

It’s merely ruined,

Never changed.



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§ 4 Responses to Tepid Tea

  • potterfan97 says:

    “It’s merely ruined, / Never changed.” God, what a line! Really love this new style, Tom.

    • Thomas Ross says:


      I’ve felt a bigger sense of risk in posting these poems than in my other writing. Your encouragement helps. You are a such a strong poet- your response to this work is meaningful and energizing.

      So thanks.

      By the way, that line’s inspiration was a passage from Auden’s “Age of Anxiety.”

      “We would rather be ruined than changed
      We would rather die in our dread
      Than climb the cross of the moment
      And let our illusions die.”


  • Cassie & Sophie says:

    Hello again. I hope we find you well.

    • Thomas Ross says:


      So good to hear from you. Seems that you’ve found a beautiful life with Sophie and Tina. And your writings with Sophie on your blog are as thoughtful and fascinating as ever.

      It was Halloween here last night- how fitting that you came by.

      Best wishes,


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