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Her steaming kettle  

window into wetness of what was

whistling jets conjuring self-precipitation

There, go memories

dewy laden long gone

Vexing saturation making tea time’s solitude

weep childhood, weep marriage, weep motherhood

ululating swirls in her cup

No amount of saccharin can sweeten  

sipping whimper’s brew

Her hour of orange pekoe empties
This is one about Mom's Alzheimer's.
Renhui 5d
I: At the Benlai Misty Mountains

I am a psychiatrist, recently divorced
Seeing patients who are scarred in the ocean
Of life and love.
I've come to Benlai Island for a vacation.

I am at the Tea House Pagoda in the misty mountains
Where immortals used to roam and laugh.
Eight of them all, but I've not met one
After hiking here for a day and half!

Such mists I love as I can hide my pain
Unlike in my clinic.
All those mists, there must be a river
Or a stream, let me go and find it.

II: By the Island's Stream

I am an art therapist
Who uses painting to inspire children and delinquent youth
I was recently diagnosed with brain cancer
And have come to Benlai Island to find cure

I've heard that the water here can heal
Stories I have heard are verified with some facts
I've drunk much Benlai water and have set up
My easel by the stream . . . where do I begin?  

Pure the water, cool clean clear.
Cancer, my cancer, how did I get it and why  me?
Was it caused by the chemicals plant near my home?
Or my brother committed suicide without a note?

III:  In a Moonlit Evening

The moon is rising, I must retire
But who is there with an easel? Let me go and inquire.
“Oh, how interesting – the eagle has become the girl’s wings!
And she does not know because with her head down she is crying”

"Yes, our shadow is also us," said the painter.
“I am Malando.” he looked up at me with a smile
I was startled by the pain in his eyes.
“I am Woliva, vacationing here in Benlai.”

The full moon shines over the stream
Lighting up surrounding figures and trees
The wild flowers on water banks.
“Would you like to go to the pagoda,” he said, “for some tea?”

IV: At the Tea House Pagoda

She has this elegant but sad look
What is her story can I read her like a book.

“Woliva, that is an interesting name!
What tea do you like?”
“They have an extensive assortment of tea
I am still trying a new kind after 50 cups.”

“I will take the pointed green tea.
The tea leaves soak up water and then stand pointing up
The flavor is light and fragrant.
It is my mother’s favorite tea when she grew up

“I will order dao hong pao, an oolong tea
Cultivated in the 6th century in Mt. Wuyi
The taste is aromatic and strong
It is considered the king of teas.

(To Be Continued)
"A poem a day" challenge - Day 3.  I have started working on a love story of two people who devote their lives to healing others but find themselves deeply wounded in life.  How do we heal others and ourselves -- that is the question I am trying to answer in this narrative poem.
faeri 6d
You're a cup of tea
with extracts of joy and kindness
sweetened with a little
Roman B Sep 8
I asked to dive back into the breach
As if it might help me find something I lost or was always missing
I didn't expect so much pain
The wound is already healing but the pain is pulsing fiery pain through my veins
I have a calm focus to myself now
The pain is dulling my mind from the world
No one can see me drag myself back down
Into my depths
I don't bother to look if anyone sees

It's very dark
But I recognize it as if I returned to an old home
The shadow of loneliness that has been following me
Crawled it's way under my skin
My favorite jacket returning to me
Holding me close
My eyes are open but nothing is seen
It's only me
Fading into the background of memory and sound
I've been here before
MawaLin Sep 5
You can find her in the usual place,
Sitting, drinking her comfort in silence,
Slowly swirling the earth in her hand,
The steam rising from her cup,
A brewed friendship flows into her mouth.

With you she’ll pour your pain in a mug,
Her honey eyes will wash your sorrows down,
As in you continue to sip the dark remedy.
Watch the vapours escape and dance with elegance,
With her nothing ever tastes bitter.
to all those tea - heart to hearts. You were my best healer...
Her thoughts and I,
we stay awake
waiting for someone,
hoping for somethings
for the heart in pain
needs no tending
just a pinch of the divine
and that silver lining.

I think of the moments
we gently stole
from the curious eyes
of tired souls
our driving the distance
to escape our own
and finding the universe
in our palms, unfold.

There in the coffee shop
she stares at me
from the helpless tea bag
in scalding water.
In the bottle she would get
to quench her thirst
I find her asking if
my need's greater than hers.

The empty seat of car,
in front
is taken in her absence
by her memories warm
The gear shaft
without our fingers twined
is stripped bare
of our naked thoughts

The rains when they come,
they flood my heart
for a stormy noon
is still parked within
when the highway was lost
behind a sheet of rain
and in lights all turned on,
our tongues were mating.

Her breath is all over
this gluttony of a glass
half filled with wine,
half consumed by need
Now, the dam opens,
blood rising to the lips
flooding me with her thoughts
she can never read...
Where do you find love?
In the absence of your love...
Sam Sep 1
First you gain my absolute trust
Then you get close to my friend
Next you start dating her
Finally you emotionally manipulate her.

But guess what?
She’s actually fine
Because she knows what she’s gotta do
To help herself

You talk about being newly popular
But I bet you’re a scared little girl
A scared newbie
Who tried to hurt my friend

Just because you didn’t get your way
You decide to shit talk a group
Right after you knew they almost got hurt
And you didn’t care

But you expect everyone to drop everything
And help you when you feel hurt
I’m fucking done

Done with your bullshit
Done with your toxicity
Done with how you act to others
Done with you

You manipulative little girl
You’re only gonna get worse
I could see that from the moment I met you


Don’t fucking come back

You won’t be welcome
Rafał Aug 28
Flowers wither away
They form a blanket of petals
Through the fall they decay
In winter, the snow settles

I hide my hands in sleeves
Of my cotton sweater
Stomping on the swathes of leaves
Welcoming the autumn weather

The rain pours nearly every evening
I sit and write by the lit candles
At night I fall deep into dreaming
Covered in warm blankets

The fireplace sooths the numbness
And hot tea warms up my body
Imagination cures the dullness
I'm mesmerized by the smell of coffee
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