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JAMIL HUSSAIN Dec 2024
Tea: Jamil, in the soft breath of dawn,  
I am the whisper that healeth, that’s drawn  
From the quiet depths of forgotten dreams,  
A balm for the heart where silence gleams.  
I hold thee close with love that is slow,  
Like a river’s song, gentle and low.  
Yet on Saturdays, I see thee depart,  
To the fire that stealeth thy wandering heart.  
She calleth with a fervor, a scorching desire,  
Whilst I, the shadow, wait, untouched by fire.

Coffee: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not know?  
I am the flame that maketh thee glow.  
Her touch may soothe, her peace may bind,  
But I am the tempest that frees thy mind.  
I stir thee deep where secrets dwell,  
In the heat of passion, I break the spell.  
Once a week, thou dost return to me,  
And in mine arms, thou art truly free.  
Her silence may cradle thee in sleep,  
But I am the pulse, the heart that leaps.

Tea: But Jamil, dost thou not feel the grace  
That I weave around thee in this place?  
I am the quiet that holdeth thee near,  
The balm for thy soul, the voice sincere.  
She burneth with a passion that blindeth thy sight,  
But I am the dusk, the still of the night.  
When thy heart is weary, when thoughts collide,  
It is I who still thee, a place to hide.  
She is the fire, but I am the rain,  
The softness that sooth’th thy deepest pain.

Coffee: Jamil, thou art blind to see—  
In my fire, thy soul shall be.  
Her touch may cradle thee with care,  
But I am the wind that stirreth the air.  
She whispereth peace, but I roar with power,  
I am the lightning, the midnight hour.  
Once a week, thou dost call my name,  
And in my heat, thou find’st no shame.  
She giveth thee rest, but I giveth thee life,  
The pulse that cutteth through all thy strife.

Tea: Yet, Jamil, in mine arms dost thou not find  
A peace that quieteth the storm in thy mind?  
I am the silence between each sigh,  
The softest breath that maketh thee fly.  
She may burn bright with her fire and flame,  
But I am the root that calleth thy name.  
When the world is cruel, when the heart is lost,  
It is I who heal thee, whatever the cost.  
She is the storm, but I am the earth,  
The place where love findeth its rebirth.

Coffee: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not know?  
I am the pulse that maketh thee grow.  
Her calm may cradle thee, but I ignite  
The flame that burneth through the endless night.  
Once a week, thou dost seek my fire,  
In mine embrace, thou dost never tire.  
She cradles thee in soft repose,  
But I am the ache, the longing that grows.

Tea: Still, Jamil, dost thou not see,  
In mine silence, thy soul is free?  
I am the lullaby that maketh thee dream,  
The quiet touch, the steady stream.  
She is the fire that consumeth and taketh,  
But I am the love that gently breaketh.  
When thou art lost, when thy heart is torn,  
It is I who will guide thee, reborn.  
She is the tempest, the wild, the flame,  
But I am the refuge, the place of shame.

Coffee: Jamil, thou dost not understand,  
I am the fire, the burning hand.  
Her touch is soft, but mine is raw,  
The wild desire, the heart's deep flaw.  
Once a week, thou dost seek my flame,  
And in my heat, thou dost find thy name.  
She whispereth peace, but I am the cry,  
That maketh thee break the chains and fly.

Tea: O’ Jamil, in mine arms dost thou not find  
A peace that settl’th the restless mind?  
I am the thread that bindeth thee whole,  
The gentle calm, the quiet soul.  
She may burn bright, but I am the dawn,  
The steady light that carrieth thee on.  
Return to me when the world is loud,  
For I am the shadow, the softest cloud.

Coffee: Together, Jamil, we maketh thee complete,  
I am the fire, she is the beat.  
Thou need’st both to stir thy soul,  
The calm, the storm, the part, the whole.  
In my flame, thou dost find thy way,  
In her peace, thou shalt stay.  
For in each sip, thy soul shall learn—  
Both the fire and silence return.

Tea: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not see?  
In mine stillness, both fire and peace shall be.  
I am the balm that healeth the wound,  
The steady heart, the sacred tune.  
Her flames may rise, her heat may burn,  
But I am the river that letteth thee return.  
In each moment, in each sigh,  
We are both the fire and the sky.
The Rivalry: Tea -v- Coffee 22/12/2024 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Tea
Tea is a colorful drink,
It comes in many different shades.
White Tea,
Sweet and delicate, brewed from the fragrant flowers of the tea tree.
Black Tea,
Strong and simple, a firm hand to lift you up from bed.
Green Tea,
Earthy and natural, weather or not the leaves or fired or steamed.
The Tea from my Grandmother's ***,
Beautiful and delicate, imprinting upon you like fresh snow on the roads of Boston.
I was born in Boston Massachusetts. Whenever somebody asks me where I'm from, I tell them I'm from the towns by the Atlantic Ocean. While I may live away from there, my heart yearns to return.
Roxy Dec 2024
You ain't the blood,
but I have you in my veins.
You're not my cup,
but I drank the tea, anyway.
Oscar Similan Nov 2024
leaves bleed in the water
a small sip to check if it's
pleasing to taste
leave the cup alone
as I apply for jobs
Steve Page Nov 2024
Tea
How do you like your tea?

I smiled.

Assam strong.
A dash of skinny milk.
And a view across the Thames.
I don't drink coffee.  I know how I like my tea.
Lizzie Bevis Nov 2024
Fine china is pressed to my lips.
offering a moment of sweet bliss,
as soothing warmth envelopes me
and my troubles start to fade.

Slowly sipping my cup of tea,
I find all is as it should be,
and clarity slowly emerges
putting my mind at ease.

I enjoy this relaxing remedy,
in this comforting serenity,
with a smile and a sigh
I find Positivi-tea.

©️Lizzie Bevis
I feel English people may relate to this! 🙂🫖
Marvin Paul Nov 2024
Honey, milk and tea,
As sweet as your vocality.
Misplaced songs like paper planes.
Like a music box retains,
Your melodic voice.
This clown drowned in your voice.
Your spellbinding sound.
Beyond fear, she is crowned.
A poem designed
With heart strings.
My letter are a thousand years behind.
Her voice charms Kings.
The eyes of an artist.
Like a ghost I don't exist.
Her voice a mixture of spices.
Words in a picture, prizes.
Wrote it for someone who never appreciated it.
G Vermeulen Oct 2024
Years I’ve tried to tell you
Couldn’t help but keep it in
Purely building walls
Just so you couldn’t pierce my heart with a pin

There have always been good days
I love our connection when we drink
But when that is over
All of a sudden you can no longer think
A constant battle of words
Bruise my brain ’til it’s completely pink

When I appear enthusiastically
You shoot it down

When I get something done
You only look at what’s next

Last night I was enlightened
By the one who gives me all
That even though you try
You never let me stand proud and tall

And when we sit down for tea
It just feels like you don’t even know me
Faryal Sep 2024
3 teas

another tea poem?
but this one comes with
3 teas
we did mention between the two of us
a t-shirt is really just a tea shirt
so do you want 3 graphic tees with tea on it?
Or just a mix of 3 teas for luck?

almost any tea brand will consist of saying with every sip
you taste the world
but take 3 sips of chamomile & you’re tasting sleep
time to go catch zzz’s
that’s 3 zzz’s

we’re only given 3 chances
3 choices
3 lives but minus cats
they have 9

Our 3 lives consist of
1. living
2. dying
3. the last time someone ever mentions your name

i’m not here 2 tease you
but i’ll serve u 3 teas,
but bring 3 friends but wait
let me guess you’re the
third wheel

join the party
too bad it’s not a tea party
just 2 teas on the table  
& 1 third wheel
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