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"caddies" poems
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~ 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. ~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
0
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
~ ⚘⚪ Jasmine Pearls IV ⚪⚘ ~
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~ 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. ~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
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69
It was a scam, a sham The flimmiest of flams There was more pork there Than a Christmas ham. It’s nothing but a racket Stuff it all into a big packet And put into a time capture Leave it until the rapture Where it can’t hurt anybody Then, fix yourself a hot toddy And laugh about how shoddy Future folks will think we are. They won’t be wrong by far. They’ll marvel at how many Candidates worth a penny, Or less, showed up to run Like the whole thing was fun And better than a TV show. How could they tumble for Not that good of a governor Didn’t know what lips are for Or what to say on the floor Yet some wanted her to run? What fun the press had with Filling up the internet bandwidth With screeching permutations Of tired old KKK reiterations Of the wonderful Aryan nation The South advocated before We had us a big-ass ugly war. It’s like they didn’t know they lost And were prepared to pay the cost To do it all over again, not just men But women too, who shouldn’t do Because they were not part of The government to be started up. It was rather Alice In Wonderland, The fuzzy details of their whole plan. Certain things were carved in stone. Some should go back to an age of stone And forever leave the real people alone. Because they’d shout out now and then That this world was meant for white men To run and control and own. Nothing tribal. They said it was written in their Bible Which was obvious they never really read Or they would know what it really said About helping the poor, the halt and lame. They went on doing harm in the name Of the King of Passion and Rescue Saying that was the wrong thing to do. They insisted they could do what pleases And it should have nothing to do with Jesus. It’s all about who is rich and who is not And who doesn’t need what they have got: All the good land and the mineral rights. The rest can just stay up nights working Two jobs, maybe three, they didn’t care. Those pundits had to start somewhere. Let those dishwashers and caddies Go get their own filthy rich daddies To leave them accounts full of millions So they could hire undocumented millions To build their dynasties of marble and gold. Really, folks. This story never gets old.
0
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
TWENTY FIRST CENTURY G.O.P.
It was a scam, a sham The flimmiest of flams There was more pork there Than a Christmas ham. It’s nothing but a racket Stuff it all into a big packet And put into a time capture Leave it until the rapture Where it can’t hurt anybody Then, fix yourself a hot toddy And laugh about how shoddy Future folks will think we are. They won’t be wrong by far. They’ll marvel at how many Candidates worth a penny, Or less, showed up to run Like the whole thing was fun And better than a TV show. How could they tumble for Not that good of a governor Didn’t know what lips are for Or what to say on the floor Yet some wanted her to run? What fun the press had with Filling up the internet bandwidth With screeching permutations Of tired old KKK reiterations Of the wonderful Aryan nation The South advocated before We had us a big-ass ugly war. It’s like they didn’t know they lost And were prepared to pay the cost To do it all over again, not just men But women too, who shouldn’t do Because they were not part of The government to be started up. It was rather Alice In Wonderland, The fuzzy details of their whole plan. Certain things were carved in stone. Some should go back to an age of stone And forever leave the real people alone. Because they’d shout out now and then That this world was meant for white men To run and control and own. Nothing tribal. They said it was written in their Bible Which was obvious they never really read Or they would know what it really said About helping the poor, the halt and lame. They went on doing harm in the name Of the King of Passion and Rescue Saying that was the wrong thing to do. They insisted they could do what pleases And it should have nothing to do with Jesus. It’s all about who is rich and who is not And who doesn’t need what they have got: All the good land and the mineral rights. The rest can just stay up nights working Two jobs, maybe three, they didn’t care. Those pundits had to start somewhere. Let those dishwashers and caddies Go get their own filthy rich daddies To leave them accounts full of millions So they could hire undocumented millions To build their dynasties of marble and gold. Really, folks. This story never gets old.
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65
Forgotten art of demonic friendships With baddie caddies and the absent masculine control of the black liquiline emotions Pooled around a hair mask, it stripped away all the gaudy binds The devil is really a concept that one should never be denied
0
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
Screenshot
You can call me your teacher, who taught you things you've never known You can call me your travel buddy, who takes you to places you've never been You can call me your dream weaver, who help you build your dreams You can call me your chef, who feeds you with delicious food You can call me your preacher, the one who caddies you to the house of God You can call me your singer, who sings to you melodies you've never heard You can call me your book, whom you read page by page but with no ending You can call me your psychologist, the one who analizes your character deeply You can call me your mirror, for you bare everything to me that no one will ever know You can call me your match, that lights up fast when you need a fire You can call me your pillow, the one you hug at night to hide in it's fluffiness You can call me your blanket, the one who gives you warmth inside and out You can call me your home, for I am your shelter when you are lost You can call me... The one who stays behind your back The one who holds you invisibly The only one who speaks your language or your soul mate But I want you to call me... The one who never left, just like the way you want me to... Eternally! ✨
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May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
You can call me©
So I've got this weird thing for olda daddies I like that they're bald and ride around with the caddies At the golf course on Sundays Probably with they're olda babies (which really means wife) But that doesn't phase me! Sometimes an olda daddy isn't even really an olda daddy Sometimes it's my good friend Max, but that doesn't make him too happy Sometimes it's my friend Even, But Ev the man doesn't mind! He's got cool olda daddy hair and a fresh olda daddy mind! He embraces his oldest olda daddy self! He knows whats up! He feels rich in his olda daddy wealth! Because, not all of my friends are olda daddies And Even is aware of this, his girlfriend is Cassie And that's my friend too, don't get me wrong But Cassie's a younga babby, this is a whole different song We sing together, we drop all the baby beats We'll drop them on you any time that we please You never know what to expect from us younga babies We show up out of nowhere and drive you mad crazy That's what's so special about us babies in the world Doesn't matter who you are, boy or girl Everyone on earth gets pretty weird sometimes, But us babies take the cup! That should ease your mind anytime! Olda this, olda that, younga who, younga why Come on gang, let yourself go! I want to see you all give your inner baby it's best try!
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Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
For all My Olda Daddies
My Pantry I panicked in the storm, afraid nothing to bargain or trade sustenance or reprieve bewildered and bereaved to acquire or do without I walked for miles in doubt through the tempestuous skies I looked at the field behind my eyes I circled around and found my pantry still abound the sheesham shelves were old the walls covered in mold a smiling monsoon coconut ladoos likened to the moon stolen biscuit jars they’d travelled from afar half eaten cadbury’s bars reminiscent of sibling wars jars of kindness marmalade bitter and timeless   pickles of surprise cakes made of rice curiosity in spice caddies an old healer of maladies my fears left me to wander my will now fed and stronger I had no reason to despair my pantry overflowing, I had so much to share
0
Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 2:55 PM UTC
My Pantry