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JRS Apr 2016
“Have a cup of tea, it’ll all be OK”
No matter the problem, that’s what they say
Whether you’ve lost your cat, your keys or your Nan
“What you need is a brew”, not some help or a plan.

Got a paper cut?
“I’ll make a ***.”
Laptop caput?
“It’s nice and hot..”
In massive debt?
“All soon forgot.”
Mourning a pet?
“It’ll help a lot.”

It’s as if that milky brown solution
Held inside the resolution
To every problem ever cried
And yet it tastes like a bare-faced lie

“Have some tea, it’ll be OK”
Will it make all my problems go away?
Will it fix the famine or end the war?
Will it house the homeless or feed the poor?

You’re telling me dried vegetation
Is the answer to my agitation
“I’ve stubbed my toe!” “I’m going blind!”
Drink up, cheer up, never mind!

If it were true, can you even dream
Of a world where tea can fix a melted ice cream?
A cuppa here, a cuppa there,
The end to all the world’s despair!

But we’d eventually run out of space
There’d be a great big global tea-growing race!
The cost of tea would go sky-high,
Only the wealthy could afford to buy
The medicine, the wonder drug
Your future secured in a polka-dot mug.

I simply find it hard to believe
That a soup of steaming boiled leaves
Has the unlikely power to relieve
Even the very most naïve.

But don’t you worry,
Don’t dismay,
Have a cup of tea, it’ll all be OK..
Àŧùl Jan 2016
I am the barista you seek,
I will brew the strongest,
Or may be softer love.

It maybe your choice,
It's a command for me,
I will just hum the tune.
My HP Poem #956
©Atul Kaushal
There's strange noises round these parts
Tales of zombies too
Haunted cabins, ghostly sights
All sorts of witches brew

We all laugh when we hear stories
Stories that we know aren't true
There's a drink that folks all know
And it ain't called witches brew

There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening

moving lights out in the wood
strange visions on the beach
swamp gas, that's what I would say
redneck zombies....that's a reach

tourist folk see things a plenty
they believe all of our tales
like the one about that boy Ahab
going chasing that white whale

There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening


if there was such a thing as zombies
wandering round out here
i'd figure it was just my kin folk
after a case or two of beer

zombies like to eat folks brains
and tear them all apart
now to a redneck, that there's work
and rednecks aren't that smart

There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening
Àŧùl Nov 2014
A chunk of intimacy,
Another part of closeness.
Sweet traces of disagreement,
In the warmth of our arms.
Yes, together with these,
We brew the drink of love.
It being largely uncontrolled,
We let most of things happen.

And trust my words about love,
Things are being pretty perfect.
My HP Poem #690
©Atul Kaushal
RW Dennen Sep 2014
Hey you, the enchanted
nights for us
Hey you, in the kettle is your witch's kissing-brew

In magical moments
I pretend to spend
suspended moments
entwined in mystical
thoughts and lovingly
clasping you

So close to my heart
I drink of your
sparkling bubbly
witch's kissing-brew

So close to my
heart I dream
of enchanted all-night-love-rocking,
and just plain loving you...
Gladys P Oct 2014
It was a gloomy Halloween night, misty, dark and cold,
With madness and mysteries that were yet to unfold,
When a pretty and pleasant witch, simmered hot brew,
Preparing to cast a spell, to the young and old.

With a poisonous drink, in scents of sweet potion,
And a fragrance of pure white lilies, only if they knew,
Tasty and hot, similar to a steamy cup of tea,
Placed in a large ***, plenty for everyone, and not leaving a clue.

As ghosts glided through, generating spooky sounds,
Reflecting mysterious whispers, as light as the winds,
And scary black bats flew endlessly, into the darkness,
Sparingly stroking, their generous long wings.

As guest gathered hopelessly and anxiously, drinking her brew,
And became drowsy, falling asleep,
And the witch grew weary and tired, through the night,
Upon her awakening, her invitees managed to escape, and she started to weep.

— The End —