Let's be 100 here.
You could be the most loyal
the most caring
the most attentive
the most attractive
the most affectionate
You could be one making all the efforts
the one spending the most time
with your 'investment'
...and in the end,
that person STILL walks away
Don't be questioning yourself
wondering where you went wrong
or what you could of done better
wondering if there was anything else
you could have sacrificed to keep them around

You are worth FAR MORE than that
Don't devalue yourself and feel like you're
missing something, that you absolutely need them
Don't beg to keep them around, let them go
Being loyal doesn't make you stupid -
but being loyal to someone whose walked
away IS stupid
In life, people come and go, but I've learned
that when the time is right, you will gain
something better

So I say when you see reality's hand raised,
welcome the slap
Wake up, move on and clap

╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮
Born from the Han Dynasty
For the royal court
Look, it's powdery cocoon
of thin, flavoured strands
has nutty fillings
a delicate treat
so fluffy
Mwah!
╰⊰✿⊱╮

╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮      
Flaky sheets of puff pastry
glazed and golden brown
Fresh vanilla cream kisses
Topped with sliced berries
Sift icing sugar
Sprig of mint
Done!
╰⊰✿⊱╮

The quill is the tongue of my very soul;
         dipped into the ink made of my tears.
           It matters not if my words are thorn to many;
                              This Queen will speak and touch those                    
                                       ­                      special few.

Humans are gardeners.                  
If we don't tend to our garden,
nothing will happen and                  
weeds will blossom.                  
Then we will doubt if our gardens
will ever be beautiful                
It is through trial and error,          
that our confidence will build.

Tranquil orchestra
The sweetest ******* soul drinks
My flame flickers pure

╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮
The          leading          *****-hand        patisserie
n­ow  walks  to  the  sink, warm  water wets
their    hands.   After  pouring  soap,  he
rubs   the   front,  back,  interlocked
fingers, then  thumbs, entwined
fingers         and         lastly
the       nails      before
the    full    rinse;
hands now
clean
╰⊰✿⊱╮

~ ♡ ~
It's pleasure
~ ♡ ~
It's  pain
~ ♡ ~
It's  joy
~ ♡ ~
It's disquiet
~ ♡ ~
It's an antidote
~ ♡ ~
It's poison
~ ♡ ~
It's soundness
~ ♡ ~
It's madness
~ ♡ ~
It's a blessing
~ ♡ ~
It's a curse
~ ♡ ~
It's a haven
~ ♡ ~
It's a battle
~ ♡ ~
But above all,
Real love, true love
is sacrifice
~ ♡ ~

Women of the Spring
Sitting on the vast Floral Hearts
Wings flutter gently

Cool winds are blowing
From dead grass will rise the green
Reason of the day

Sitting on the window sill of my Chamber,
in a state of dwam.

Zephyrs dance; opened letters on my cherry-wood
gilt-of-gold desk.

News of new Kings and Queens reach my ears;
and I smile, so grateful.

'Oh, when will you return, my love?' wondered Kourê,
   as she lays on the daybed, in the cradle of                        
          Spring's clime; how the nights and days make                        
her so weary, as the yellowed flames sway idle              
So many flowers sent,                                            
each rich with memory.      
Violets coiling around the triumphal arch;              
His smile after their first kiss under
the flushing dawn.
Starlings who sing ever so sweet;                              
the song of him preaching of her being
                       a bright glory before others.
Crystal chandeliar that hangs from the ceiling;
                            Her on a small bench, his hands massaging
                              warm oils between her fae-sculpted
      feet and toes.
The roses; a rouge kiss in the light of the shade
          The harp; a white daybed draped
                            with a scarlet sheet.
She yearns for a hug from him, bathing ****
          in light, as their hearts beat in sync
                              and reach the sky.
All she wants is a sweet rest, his hand on her
fine head;                                                
            stroking, sighing, eyes shining,              
                  water that trembles between fingers,
happiness linger!
A feather drifts earnest, the glittering of stars,
And now she cools, recalling their sweet        
goodbye as he rides his mare,
            snow cloak shines eternally.
'Yours is a beauty that will never wilt,' he cooes,
placing a rose in her hair.                  
A rose.                      
A rose...        
Her eyes falls on the white rose in the vase,
              lonesome, thornless proud...                  
We marvel its beauty, its earthbound performance                       
 She holds the rose in her hand, staring at its                    
its crowning glory; petalled virtue
By her ivory velveteen fingers                                          
long finger,
               slim thumb-
She plucks petal by petal by petal by petal
as she looks to the day-sky
                      with a dreaming mind
And when the crown is gone,                            
                       her face is touched by a frown                        
                and the naked stem,
                                    marred by her sensitivity-
                                            ***** of its own beauty-
                                                    for her hand's sake,
her yearning for her lionesque lover,              
                                         and aurorian prayers?          
The stem falls, naked and bald on the ground
    as she closes her eyes, saddened...
She cannot bear the sight of snow-kissed            
flowered bays without the sun,
                   her hymn-
                                  her shield-
Know the true secret behind the red, red rose  
As none know of its venomous mantle    
this Rose lingered in the vase only to be
defiled.
Taken advantage of only to
                            be dumped-
A laughing stock as another more beautiful
                            flower will take its place
Boiling with vengeance, the stem is hale,
jade with envy-
                                               barbed with thorns, a poisoned desire
                      to shield its body,
Its pride, its crown stolen-
                                     From snow to blood-
                                                    its pain turned crimson,
No longer will tears of dew fall!
'It matters not,' Kourê thinks, 'another rose will bud.'
For they, like many perennials and sentient life,
                          are conscious of its limited beauty!
'Mine own beauty and his will last forever.'
From the light beyond,
she sees him.
                                       Her sun that rides the mare!
She runs into his embrace- a pair of happy doves
Her fingers in his gold curls
as he bends the knee,
The air lovingly cold at this display!                  
Ever so content!
                                          Blessings upon the lily in the snow!
Upon her hands, the blood of a rose,
that swears vengeance upon her
for it will be the catalyst!
Blood for blood!
                                  The rose will rise and curse
them with pain ten-fold...

The zephyrs run rampant from the heavy  
clouds, one that the balcony Beauty fully  
    embraces.                                            ­    
                      Clad in her yearning garments, a dress of                        
    snow silk-satin with a thigh- high slit and      
a frilled silk-hem.                                            
           ­                Whose arms are raised towards
Winter's melody-    
The zephyr's caress ever so gentle,              
     her dress flutters like a dove's wing in delight,
stroking her slim feet,                                      
her flushing heels-                  
It makes briefly escaping being enwombed
   by the shades of her room; the anti-chamber
                   of her heart's greatest desire,                                            
  where many tears are shed.
                                         a maid born of the mild moon-                      
                                                                ­                    Kourê.      
The Sun at its zenith pales in comparison to
her beauty.                                              
Her face, sonnet sweet-      
        Her voice, heaven's hymn-        
Her lashes, argent's flutter-
Her eyes, cerulean haunts-
                   Her body, fragrant; a slender willow-
                       Her hair, silver-aurorian blaze, held up
by a star-studded parrot's clip.            
Snow bejewels her divine lids, down to those
rosette buds that make her lips.                      
                  Despite it all, melancholy has a grip her
features-
      She is one who pays little to earthly riches,            
for it provides comfort in slivers          
Thoughts of flowers rest far from the altars
of her mind, for her mind is clouded by
             the thoughts of him-
He who she hopes to see and hold once more.
As he gave her word that he would return      
from his journey, leaving her in the palace;      
             his hand pulling the black gates.

There she awaits-                                            
    In her jewelled palace far from faded-eyes    
A lily sheltered from the blanket of white;
the air perfume-light from the blossoms,  
                      and a yearning heart -

          Lo!                                                  ­                    
            The silver songs of Robins; the heralds of Winters
              twirl free.                                                            ­            
   Lo!                                                              ­
      A Hyperborean wind is roused from slumber
    and spreads its wings. Leaves drift down are
    kissed by frost; lakes, the woodlands placed
  under your trance. And your vision came to
be - a polished world on a fair day.            
                                         And at a pleasant hour-

I ask you to mother me greatly, memory.
I ask you to father me strongly, experience.
I ask to strengthen me gradually, time.
I ask you to hone and refine me, wisdom.

Trees sway in silence
Summer's heat blossoms once more
Leaves drifts side to side
Melodies beyond this world
Blessings and curses, they bloom

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Though glass, it is rimmed with gold
around the cup, handle and even the
saucer. Skilfully painted chrysanthemums
  of various shades; the vermilion horizon,
Spring's honey, songbird's magenta,
sangria's fine wine, a parakeet's breast
and the Aegean sea.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And then, there are three sightly tea
caddies with lacquered wooden bodies;
one rosewood with red dancing fans,
one burr-oak with golden mountainous
landscape and one maple wood with
green bamboo. Ainhana gently removes
each of their lids by using the cloth, and
presents the pearls that were wrapped
in sun-kissed foil.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
She first lifts the rosewood caddy towards
me. I close my eyes and focus on the scent.
Without peeling back the foil, I know. It takes
me to the far distant Province of Yunnan,
past the snow-kissed mountains and rice
terraces to a very still lake. I noticed that
it began to bubble before a large splash
rose.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
At that moment, I meet the lake's Guardian,
the Imperial Wingless Dragon of legend.
With its wet emerald-kissed scales drinking
the sunlight. It's great body now entwined
in a wispy clouds as it stares at me with
eyes of liquid moons. Its tail crowned
with a peacock feathered eye-spot whips
around in the air, leaving an iridescent
trail of colours.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With a great leap, he soars through
the air, trumpeting his great roar
that rattles the skies. Just as quickly
as he rose, he descends down with
a Pearl Moon in his brown claw. By
the stroke of its sienna-brown whisker,
the small Moon cracks, presenting me
it's contents, a long kept secret.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The pearls are the colour of seaweed
with streaks of yellow and burnt umber.
With earthy notes whirls around my
nose, along with some floral sweetness,
burnt caramel licks, dragon spice and
a wisp of apricot. Ah, so I see! One great
guarded secret that he reveals to me!
His best pearls ferment in the womb
of the Moons! Purified by the Star
Virtues of Elysia's Harmony!

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Wonderfully rich Pu-erh Pearls,'
I say, my eyes now open.
'My Lady's nose is as sharp as ever!'
'I just know my tea,' I chuckle, 'it's
very unique in smell and taste.  I will
save such fine broth for another day.'
Ainhana nods, places on the tray and
lift the burr-oak caddy. I close my
eyes once again and my mind
wanders yet again.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~

My sweet Jasmine Pearls
has touched the hearts of many
So now I wonder

Would you like more of
free-verse poems about teas?
Please do let me know!

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And so the Pu'erh and Jasmine Lily
pearls are covered, my attention on
the Phoenix Eye pearls, and I peel back
the foil of a small handful. Ainhana had
carefully remove the infuser and I pour
in the pearls, listening as they gently
hit the glass.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
As soon as Ainhana places the infuser
back in the tea ***, I turn the sand-dial
and watch the cream sands run, and the
pearls steep. I dare not let it run for the
full five minutes - I find the perfect brew is
made in three. The pearls now unfurl, the
green leaves now floating. The clear water
turns into the colour of the finest champagne.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
After three minutes, Ainhara pours me a cup,
the aroma itself puts me more at ease.
'Do not waste it,' I tell her, holding the
handle and saucer. 'Such fine pearls can
be steeped twice, and I will make sure that
I treasure every single cup.'
'Yes, My Lady,' She says with a curtsy.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With my eyes closed, I blow away some
steam and proceed to sip short and brief.
It is a pleasure that is most welcome, indeed!
Teeming with the fires of the Phoenix itself
and caressing my tongue with floral sweetness.
A delicious moan escapes me as I relax in
my Summer Throne.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
My breathing is calmed as I look at
the horizon with redolent eyes.
The choirs sing as I drink such fine
ambrosia! By a cup of Pearls, mine
own eyes feel inspired, as I think of
the lovely vision that is the Phoenix
that is born of the lotus.
Adieu, stresses of Court!
Adieu, plagues of doubt and anger!
Thy Queen is now jocund dove.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Truly the finest Jasmine Pearls I've
had in years!' I beam. 'Be sure to share
this with my fellow Kings and Queens.
Especially Queen Kim. In such a golden
hour, we shall become Dream Children,
to be lost in gardens of distant China.'
'Yes, My Queen.' Ainhara waves her hand,
Semui and Ilazi now resume play.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
As I sip once again, the summer
showers come. Lo! My gazebo
glistens! Cleansed by the light,
and life for my fields of my
fair gardens.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
This blend cleanses the fire of my heart.
This blend casts out sorrows for me to
drink beauty.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
A  liquor the shade of champagne with
the flames of life budding from a
delicate flavour.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The Phoenix merges with me, for I
am the star of the morn that graces
my Aurelinaea!

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Such a blend of elegance in my tongue,
a heavenly euphony. How I'm forever in
awe of the power of
my Jasmine Pearls.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I am taken from Yunann to the
coastal Province of Fujian, where
boats sail fair as fishermen fish. I
land by a pond with waters cascading
down boulders and rocks as old as
time itself.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
But even though there are trimmed
and hale blades of green, there is a
single flora, the corona of the water
Not the chrysanthemum with its svelte,
curling petals of the gelid transition
from the crimson leaves of autumn
kissed by the rathe winters.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Instead it is a single fuchsia lotus
bud,a pristine and graceful soul
unperturbed by murked waters.
As I get a closer look, the lotus
open slowly into full bloom and
with it, the golden essence -
ethereal, a star that throbs like
a heaven's dream, and it appears -
the phoenix.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Its plumage a brilliant shade of
red-gold, and wings and long tail
beset by iridescent streaks and jewels.
Slim-legged, clawed feet of a deep azure
and eyes, such a blight blue-green.
Looking to the sky, it releases such
a melodious cry and a star falls
a throbbing silver-white. It glides
to my hands and it is revealed,
another glorious Pearl Moon.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With a peck of its beak, the Moon
cracks once more and my nose is
besieged by leaf pellets scented o'er
and o'er with fresh jasmine blossoms.
Seaweed green with licks of marigold
and shaped after the Phoenix's hot
eye.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Unlike the Dragon's Pu'erh pearls,
this aroma is dainty in its sweet floral
with a kiss of green; I can taste the sugar!
Velveteen on my tongue! A brew worthy
of chosen Kings and Queens. I notice that
the light of the Phoenix begins to fade.
As our eyes meet, it cries once more, a
sweet and happy cry born of Elysia,
before it fades away in gust of wind.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The lotus petals fall off and float,
becoming soft rose-kissed boats;
the leaves have yellowed, browned
and wilted. All that remains is a
dry stamens but I see that the
ovaries are beginning to
flourish...

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Ahh,' my eyes now open, dazed,
'The Phoenix Eye pearls. Such a
fine golden liquor you will become!'
Anihana smiles, 'Indeed, My Lady.'
'I assume the final batch is its twin
sister?'
'Yes, My Lady. Jasmine, Green and
Lily pearls.' Anihana places the
burr-oak caddy down to grab the
caddy maple-wood.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Each pearl, all laboured with love,' I
coo. 'Such fresh tender herbs rolled into
blessed pearls that are either fermented
or sit with it's blossoming flowers for
many days and nights. Cover the Pu'erh
and the Jasmine Lily. I wish to be cleansed
by the Phoenix Eyes.'
'Yes, Sweet Queen.'
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
But I am relieved.
Not being confined in bright velvets
of the West, or shimmering silks of
the East. Each hand-stitched with
animals and flowers, crystals and
furs, with gold and silver to
parade around in Court.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I find far more splendour in a simple
iris-purple kimono-robe, lightweight,
silk-satin and printed with lilies with
a pink silk trim. It strokes my ankles,
and the sleeves, they billow; the sash
firmly fastened around my waist.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
My handmaid, Ilazi, presents a gilded
bowl with the purest form of fruits -
the ones that were rain-washed. I have
a variety to choose from - strawberries,
blueberries, peaches, green, red and
black grapes which I pick and nibble
on. Hmm, a succulent balance of
sweetness and ****.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And then my senior handmaid, Anihana,
arrives with a tray in hand, clearly made
from stainless steel with rose-gold accents.
'Sweet Queen,' says she. At the wave of my
hand, the music stops. 'Forgive me for
keeping you waiting. I know how particular
you are with your pearls so I narrowed
them to your favourite three choices.'

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Thank you,' I say and as I lean up, she
presents three cream-hued scrolls.
'Lists,' says she, 'of all the ship's
inventory. Would you like to
inspect them, my lady?'
'I will after some tea, Ainhana,
thank you.'

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Anihana nods and moves by my side
as my eyes fall on the tray's contents.
A small silver five-minute sand-timer,
a glass teapot with bamboo handle,
an infuser and steel lid half filled
with hot water; steam dancing
out of the spout. Then, a lovely
glass teacup, one of the most
beautiful I've seen yet.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Yet, I admit, feel a tad uninspired.
So I gently wave my hand towards
two handmaids. Essha, a musician
uses her nimble fingers to play the
Harp with other, Semui who plays
the flute, together creating a true
aurelian tune.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
There is so much ahead that my eyes
can see. Rings of still, clear waters
around the green hills of near and
far. Guards patrolling the high walls
of my borders, Knights riding horses
into my people's town. How it warms
me to see them all smiling and laughing,
going about their daily business.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
A brethren of sweet lilies in the
vase shyly bob their heads, pouting
their rosy lips which I gently stroke.
Violets coiled around the bare feet of
the caryatids, and pots of bluebells
and dahlias by my own slippered
feet.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
My star-kissed diadem, though
resting on my curls, is caressed by
the light as I turn my face towards
the horizon. Deer dance in the shade
of pure green, leaping over the silver
streams, that murmur tales and
secrets they hold within.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And by the docks of my Aurelinaea,
are many argosies with wooden
bellies and creamy sails with many
imports; of silks and velvets, satins
and eiderdown; apricots and apples,
plums and peaches, honeys, jams,
syrups and jellies from fruits and
flowers to heaps of sugars and spices,
make-up, jewels, flower-bulbs and
perfumes.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And my personal favourites - a great
assemblage of teas; herbal and cream,
drinks and oils as well as an assortment
of old tomes, Analects and books. I have
a dream that mine own library would
rival the fabled one of the once great
Alexandria.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
After days of long studies comes the
days of rest. My violet dreams were
slumber-soft filled with lucent lilies
of curling flames born of ever colour
known and unknown. And I stood
in awe of them as my fears fall back
and cower in the shades of my mind.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I muse at how quickly my body
relaxed. Due to my marjoram'd
pillows and sheets of pure silk
and eiderdown? Or due to the
sips of the lavender tea in my in
my teacup decorated with a
butterfly motif?

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I remember the sips in fours as
I blew the steam from my cup;
The first sip balmed my lips.
The second soothed my throat.
The third lulled my thoughts.
The fourth stilled my soul.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Though the tea, the pillow and
sheets were had a hand in my nightly
rest, the real answer is on my brow -
for it was when the night's cool air
blew, and where you placed your
sweet Morphean kiss.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With a smile, I wake.
Sat on my golden summer throne
located in my marble gazebo; a
jewel in my private garden. With
thin caryatid pillars, draped in
fine doric chitons encircling me.
Their sculpted limbs hold up the
frieze carved with acanthus
that has a stained glass top of
peacocks and stargazers.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The sheer curtains billow when
the eastern winds blow. By me, a
gold side table with a mirrored top
supported by three Greek key legs.
A pewter quill pen with a steel nib
and violet feather rests by its clay
inkpot; both beside a silver sinuous
nouveau vase and a small stack of
poetry books of black leather and
gilt.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~

i pick, wash, slice
the orange and
    lift a slice towards
my
                         lips

chewing on the
flesh that is sweet
with great ambition
and pulp, taking
my mind to
hot summer
                            days

then my teeth
sinks into the
harsh reality
that inhabits
the
                    rind

                                      ­         fibrous strands hang in my teeth-
         so annoying-      
so frustrating-
so bitter-                  

slipping  down to my innards
down              
down                  
  down                          
    
                                             my fingers are                    together
                                 ­                         sticking    
                           ­                                 

          
but i won't be
disheartened
for i hold the
slice and squeeze
              and
      after
a      
time              
my tongue is        
kissed by

                           the last                of juice
                            drops
                         ­     the best                 of juice

the                of knowledge that I ingest with
drops                                                      
                                                                                           age

Howling wind destined to pass,
reveal treasures of past spring

Wrapped in a warm
blanket of vanilla
and lavender
stardust

Drink from Paradise's pools,
be cleansed and feel glorious
joy.

In floral dresses, nimbly tread upon
Artemis's grotto with glee

With lavender and blossom wreathed
in their loose wavy curls

Sweet-skinned Nymphs of fawn,
ebony and ivory-limbs sing

Dappled light forms such wonders
in the shade of hyacinth.