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Steve Page Feb 2022
Great tea
boils down to a tender leaf
cultivated slowly on small trees
watered liberally by long rains
reaping a full fragrance
harvested from high estates
packaged to be picked
and infused without fuss
or ceremony
in a warmed ceramic ***
for two
to draw out the deepest flavour.

Cup of tea?
I do like a good cup of tea in company
Nigdaw Dec 2019
condensation runs in rivulets
to form a puddle
at the foot of the glass
a barmaid's finger imprints
still show in their disturbed path
bubbles rise to the surface
to join the communion of froth
through amber liquid

grain hops yeast water
a quartet brewed to perfection
one of the oldest beverages of man
an innocent in our drug and adrenaline
fuelled world

going for a beer with the lads
do you fancy a pint?
just a quick one
social, classless, acceptable vice
five thousand years in the making
annh Nov 2019
Did you decide who I was before or after you spoke to me?

Did you decide to speak to me - or not - because of how I was dressed, what I looked like, my job, my education, my choice of beverage, my height, my accent, or my scintillating conversation with your plus one about the benefits of suburban parking spaces?

And who are you? Do you know? Are you sure? Did you dress yourself or did your date choose that sweater for you? Did you grow that ironic beard for her? Are you happy in your work, or just pretend to be to keep the peace? Did you miss taking up that scholarship because your family moved out of state?
Did someone ask you to hold their glass while they whipped to the loo? Do you slouch to compensate for those years of dance lessons which make you look too...straight? Are you trying to hide that southern twang? Do you talk ******* when conversing with strangers and tend to come across as a complete *****?

I thought so, go figure!

The more I think about it, it becomes clear to me - ironically enough - that who we are and how we communicate, interact, love and live is based on a pancake stack of impressions and fragmented contexts; a continuum of sliced-and-diced perspectives, learnt behaviours, and erroneous assumptions. Life is a veritable rabbit hole, thank goodness for poetry! :)

‘Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won't come in.’
- Isaac Asimov
JDL Nov 2018
Head, body, flavor
Effervescent, ‘tis pleasant
With each sip savor
Oregon, Brewery’s abound.
Dor Sep 2018
The leaves of the crunchy,
Oolong tea.

The chocolatey aroma…
So intoxicating
Like a psychedelic dream.

Auburn orange.
Amber yellow.
How these colors swirl within the tea cup.

Dipping a spoon in to twirl it.

At last, the tea was ready.
Not too hot.
Not too cold.
Just right, like porridge.

The girl was ready
To savor the
Lovely drink.

She took the tea cup.
In her delicate hands.
Tipped it to her chapped lips.

The warm liquid
In her mouth.
Down her throat.

Her tongue wanting more.
She smiled,
Before continuing to
Her ravishing tea.
Sooo, I re wrote this poem with a different title and a different POV :)
Bleed out my thoughts and distill it
Create a pain I can drink
And dwell on in spastic sorrow as night grows old
Bottle dries up
Ask for addiction to inspiration
Change my mind when Monday is here
But pencil meet paper come the night after
My wind to caution hold steady
To the spout, always ready
Except for when it matters most
Charlie Gnarly Jun 2018
Closing my eyes, I sit on my chair with tea,
sipping and cupping my chai with please.
Its cinnamon scent wafts through the air,
sending pleasant shivers everywhere.

Hints of cardamon slide down my throat with ease,
the musky mix of spices and black tea.
Slowly, I release my back to rest comfortably,
on the back of the old chair, that my mother gave me.
This is an actual proper poem (Wha??) that I've started writing that I think is pretty cute. Chai tea is definitely one of favourite beverages. Tell me what ya'll think. :)
Lavender & Honey**

You know the age old question:
If you were a drink
What would you be?
I must be alcoholic.
My highs and lows are so extreme.
And it seems i've been transforming
A lot of good little ****** girls
Into blood lusting sirens
As of late.
I would come in a tall glass
Brimming with lavender & honey.
Honey is usually sweet,
But sometimes
Can be overshadowed in bitter.
And much like nectar
I didn't care for myself as a child.
Because I try to be soothing
And envelop you in love
You can tell me of your pain & fears
And I will hold them closer than my own
That's what lavender is for, you see.
I suppose I could have
A hint of bergamot as well.
Though I swear i'm not pretentious.
I'm just trying to make things Interesting.
So what do you think?
If I was a drink.
Would you drink me?
"I love it, and for the record,
yes, I absolutely would."
Asa D Bruss Oct 2014
I can't rip myself asunder from such a magnanimous prepositional
as this.
While the fishes hang from my window
like little ice-ickles in spring.
So foams the frosty beverage that tells the gills to sing.
Twilight music and the sonnets contained therein
have little left to offer us, save a right-winged jerry-bin.
So the muse of ages goes round and around and around
for the malarkey of a daffodil creates folds and hills
where none exist.

— The End —