Water in Jars by Emma Wells

They chatter as friends

clinking along in shared unison

collected from superstitious,

antique seas

by a worn, silvered hand

dipping for liquidised souls.

Each jar: unique.

Her matted, jaded hair unfurls;

sea-winds unravel ageing curls

releasing grey epiphanies:

a choral symphony cries

from freed tendrils

symbiotically merging

with breaking crescent waves.

Age leaches from pores,

sea breeze cleanses skin

removing layers of time;

a reaching hand to shore

transforms its physical self.

Majestically, blemishes

(stamps of time) fade

like scarlet roses

to tender pink,

a subtle blossom-kiss.

The shoreline beckons

hearing familiar, maritime calls

she shuffles on over-walked,

bruised feet

to a wakeful welcome;

her toes awash with crystalline shells;

seaweed polishes skin pristine—

rekindling life, vigour, youth.

She stands, invigorated,

reenergised, resplendent

in ephemeral glows of a setting sun

beginning to unladen her load

from a wondrous, wicker treasure trove,

filling each jar with mouthfuls of promise

dipping to shimmering sea edges.

Poseidon willingly relinquishes

his liquid gold, eyeing appraisingly

as she ebbs and swells

like circular, feathered waves,

where wingtips touch elysian edges…

The greying embers of her tussled hair,

morph to flecks of Midas’ gold,

dazzling in mirrored reflections.

The sun settles herself

in cosy confines

allowing herself to be held

by Horizon’s cupped, muscular hand.

Anchored for the night.

She continues filling jars

flowing fluidly

as salty portents

brimming to fortified fruition…

Swirling tides wave farewell

as their maiden martyr

replenishes her last watery ware.

Its prized Qing Dynasty porcelain

delicately placed

amidst brethren,

on a pyramidal platform:

ready to begin a new journey—

to rekindle with familial, mortal souls.

Her tread now turns,

as selfless salvation restarts;

her stretched toe dispels cloying sand,

as jars tinkle like awaiting door bells,

cradling expectant souls,

in watery-jarred worlds.

One bronze age spot forms

on her upturned face

as she’s steered to dry land

by navigational luminous stars.


Emma Wells is an English teacher and a mother to a six year old daughter. She writes poetry and short stories as she enjoys the creative freedom that it allows. She has been writing creatively for nearly two years. She has poetry printed in The World’s Greatest Anthology, The League of Poets, The Lake, The Beckindale Poetry Journal and a selection of poems published in Dreich Magazine. She has published short stories in Aurora & Blooms Creative Arts Journal and Visual Verse. She is currently writing her first novel.

Author's note

"Water in Jars" is inspired by female power, mythology, mysticism and the concept of replenishment. It is quite spiritual in tone as I wanted it to be uplifting, while honouring an unknown yet phantasmagorically intriguing female figure (mythical in origin).