The Old Samovar
If the old samovar could speak what tales it would tell
Of dark and snowy nights
When the tea and vodka inflamed the words of revolution
The soft spring nights of young love under the starlight skies
The summers of discontent when the land was flung into war’s turmoil
The chill of autumn when the land settles down to an unquiet rest
Through it all the samovar remained
From joy, anger, exile and death, it carries the stories through time
© Ceol
December 25th, 2009 at 11:54 am
‘The Old Samovar’ is a writing that moves me in a way that is deeply emotional…it is reminiscent of the frozen forests and lakes of Siberia…it reminds me of my roots found in the frozen wilds of Finland…this is a very fine poem.
Coastpoet