Lukas Obele
1st equal, Junior Category (11-14 years)

The Lonely Vase

It’s usually a shaded, mellow room
But all of that changes when you see the white and gold cloaks
The candles being lit and the silver clad page boys tittering
The crowd enters with tottering laughter

Silver goblets get filled
Eyes widen as infinite courses hit the table
They all start reaching, arms entangled
They fill their plates to the brim

Meat and veg in an ocean of gravy
It’s a matter of moments before they’ve mopped their plates clean
Everything on the table, devoured
Except one thing – the flower vase

The flower vase is the only thing bare of silver and gold
A pale-green rickety vase, splattered with wine and garuum
Fit for a peasant’s abode, never seen a polish in its life
It’s been there for years, constantly filled with fresh flowers and water

Lions and leopards fight the gladiators as the vase looks on
Men on their klines
Pomegranates, peacocks, suckling pigs and oysters
All philosophers at dinner

Like a flea in Hercules’ lionskin coat
The vase sees the tyranny and oppression
Through the lavish stained windows
The vase hears the peasants choking on their soaked grains

The vase is innocent, empty, desolate
Left alone on the table when the feast is over
Acrobats and Amazons gone home
Only the lonely vase remains