"ceylon" poems
Finally it is done.
For months I have been
collecting ingredients
for the magical elixir -
home grown ginger and rosemary,
fresh organic garlic, onions and lemon,
finely chopped jalapeno pepper,
powdered turmeric,
Ceylon cinnamon,
tulsi, kelp and black pepper.
What eluded me was the
pungent, fresh horseradish,
unexpectedly absent in our stores
and farmers markets,
until a birthday trip to New York,
when we found the massive roots
in a Russian market.
And, once properly chopped
and shredded and zested,
all is covered and bathed
in organic apple cider vinegar,
a superfood in itself,
where it will draw out the
healing constituents
of each vital ingredient,
creating a powerhouse of wellness.
And now we wait.
Four to eight weeks
of shaking the jars every day
before we drain the lot,
run the pulp through a juice extractor
and add the final touch ...
local honey, raw and unfiltered,
adding sweetness and
its own preserving power,
along with a strong boost to health.
A long time to wait
for this Nectar of the Gods,
but so very worth it:
a shot of this each day
and colds and flu stand no chance -
bacteria and virus alike
overwhelmed -
say goodbye to illness.
Let us now give thanks
to our grandmothers
and all the lay herbalists
of generations long past,
for through their efforts,
our own knowledge
is greatly enriched.
We stand on the shoulders of giants.
5July2015
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
There was a young man from Ceylon Another man from Sri Lanka
Whose turkey went on and on Penned an original tanka
Each piece on his plate With himself he was pleased
He dutifully ate But his friends they just teased
Till every morsel was gone And called him a silly old....wally
Turkey in soup, turkey in curry,turkey in sandwiches when in a hurry,turkey for breakfast,turkey for tea, fed up with turkey soon I shall be. Ways to eat turkey different and clever, man this turkey goes on for ever. Can we have something else now please, put the rest in containers to freeze.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 3:46 AM UTC
I've never been to China
I almost went to France,
I missed a flight to Russia once
I only missed by chance
Rome's intoxicating
The air there is sublime
But, I've never been there either
I just didn't have the time
I missed a train to Scotland
Bypassed Wales, and well Why Not?
There's nothing there in Cardiff
Other countries haven't got
I thought about the islands
Bui I do not like the sun
So I thought about a cruse ship
Still, I've never been on one
Alaska, has the mountains
forests wide and big brown bears
But as you can imagine
I've also not been there
I thought about Hawaii
but I never made that trip
I thought about the hula
And I thought I'd hurt my hip
I booked a flight to Cairo
Never went as you could guess
Saw a story on the news one day
And Jesus, what a mess
The pyramids had scaffolding
The place was full of sand
So I stayed home and watched telly
And then that trip was canned
I've never been to Ireland
or Cuba or Ceylon
And at the rate I'm going
It won't be long before their gone
I've thought about the Norway fjords
and lovely Swedish parks
but I've heard that all their fjords are filled
With big man eating sjarks!
I've never been most anyplace
I ever set to go
I'm not sure why I stayed here
I really do not know
Next week I have a trip planned
I'm not going to Spain
And then a fortnight after
I'm not going again!
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 4:52 PM UTC
In 1972,
Nixon shook hands with Mao
and the world turned its back on Taiwan.
In 1972,
Ceylon changed its name to Sri Lanka,
Okinawa returned to Japan,
and Jane Fonda became Hanoi Jane.
In 1972,
twin Olympics were held,
hungry tigers on wooden skis dashing
down the white slopes of Sapporo,
while the streets of Munich ran red
with the blood of slain Israelis.
In 1972,
Elvis was still the king,
Elton wasn’t quite the queen
and Prince was still a quiet teen.
On September 21, 1972,
Philippine president Ferdinand Marcos
placed my grandmother’s homeland under martial law.
I was born that day
while my grandmother wept.
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 9:17 PM UTC
Kippers and toast for breakfast,
washed down by a fairtrade Ceylon,
eagerly anticipating the Christain Aid appeal
through my letter box.
Aware of others earthly disengage
their morning monotony flickers through their lounge,
consummate hypocrites watching the repeat soap operas,
the profundity of their silence radiates through to the adverts.
as they had a cause too,
until its auto recluse with the
outside world
the news slot borders on paranoia
a dent to exclusivity.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC
First thing in the morning
just as daylight is dawning
what starts me off you see
is a English Breakfast Tea
Then when I commute by train
and the crowds do drive you insane
I try to stay very calm
with a cup of Assam
Then when I get to the office
with inbox filled to the brim
I think ****** it all
and have a cup of Darjeeling
Then by midday
to keep my woes away
I have a sneaky cup
of my favorite Earl Grey
The when work is done
and I want some fun
to heaven I go
with a cup of Ceylon
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 12:41 AM UTC
Gordon and I waited outside, while the Australian soldiers were carried onto one of the transports. They were all stretcher cases, men who had been shot or blown up by Malayan terrorists I think. When every one was taken on board, Gordon and I were told to board the other Dakota type aircraft, along with a large chest of spare parts, and two air frame fitters. Both aircraft were identical and equally sparse and noisy, described as flying pigs by the pilot of our aircraft, who was a Flight Searjeant. There were two nursing sisters on the other aircraft, looking after the injured men, our aircraft was almost empty by comparison. We took off with the engines roar filling our ears, and turned towards Ceylon, now renamed Sri Lanka. I prefer the former name personally. That part of the flight went ok, although there was no sight of land until we touched down in Colombo.
Colombo was quite beautiful and I can't recall where we were billeted but I do recall that there were rows of wooden bungalow's set amidst cocoanut palms. There were lot's of nuts on the ground, still in their husks, but we could not break them open without some kind of tool. We were also warned to keep clear of falling nuts, which could be lethal to anyone below. The following morning we left Ceylon and headed out across The Java Sea, looking for a small island which if memory serves was called Koepeng. That's when things started to get a little hairy!!
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
Ceylon cinnamon tea,
cardamon, ginger
from painted cups,
drank she
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
"Congratulations" The head nurse was an attractive lady with the rank of squadron leader, I think." You have Amoebic Dysentery, that means you can't eat and you must drink at least eight pints of chilled water every day until you are clear, when you have eaten your first meal without any problems, you can go, until then keep drinking the chilled water, and under no circumstances must you eat any food at all"
We remained in the isolation hospital for about five weeks, It was tedious in the extreme but it had to be done, After the indignity of a medical, involving a swab of cotton wool on a pair of long nosed forceps, we were both given the all clear and discharged. We were instructed to go to the transit block and wait there for further orders, we would be sent for when a flight was available to take us to rejoin the rest of the unit in Australia.
the transit block was a huge empty three storied building that had once been used as a prison camp by the Japanese. We chose a smaller room at the end of the ground floor, it was a bit more comfortable there.
We used it as a base, for exploring the camp, no one seemed to want us, and as the days passed we spent a lot of the time swimming in the pool at the Selarang barracks. which was only a couple of miles down the road.
The walking and swimming was good excersize, but we needed to keep our eyes open, there were often snakes on the road, ready to bite the unwary.
One afternoon, we were stopped by a redcap. He demanded to see our twelve fifties ( identification cards). "Where have you two been for the last three weeks." "In the transit block Sergeant." "No you haven't, I have checked it every day." Where is your gear?" "In the transit block Sergeant." "Show me." he demanded. We did. "This is not the transit block, this room is reserved for fire pickets!" We have been searching for you two for weeks." I couldn't help smiling. The sergeant was not amused! Two days later we climbed aboard a twin engined transport .
We were bound for Australia via Ceylon and a small Island somewhere in The East Timor Sea. Of course nothing could go wrong, it was just going to be a routine flight!
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
Arms and the Heroes, who from Lisbon's shore,
Through seas where sail was never spread before,
Beyond where Ceylon lifts her spicy breast,
And waves her woods above the watery waste,
With prowess more than human forced their way
To the fair kingdoms of the rising day:
What wars they waged, what seas, what dangers passed,
What glorious empire crowned their toils at last,
Venturous I sing, on soaring pinions born,
And all my country's wars the song adorn;
What kings, what heroes of my native land
Thundered on Asia and Afric's strand:
Illustrious shades, who levelled in the dust
The idol-temples and the shrines of lust:
And where, erewhile, foul demons were revered,
To Holy Faith unnumbered altars reared
Illustrious names, with deathless laurels crowned,
While time rolls on in every clime renown'd!
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 6:24 AM UTC
I.
I turned the kettle on
by pressing a little button
on its metallic side
slightly downward.
The light went on,
a cold blue hue,
warming the water,
while I sat
while I looked out the window.
It wasn't raining
but I wished it was.
An idle hand took the kettle
and poured boiling water over my head.
It spilled on carpeted floors.
They were ****** but
hot water doesn't ruin carpet.
****
It rained.
II.
I turned the kettle on
by pressing the contoured button
slightly downward.
I stared into the see-through opening
to watch it boil.
It didn't
because the power was out.
I should have known
because the refrigerator
smelled of dead fish.
III.
I turned the kettle on
by pressing the little button
slightly downward.
The light went on
so I knew it was working
and sat down to look out the window.
It was raining.
I wished to smell it
so I opened the window.
It smelled of rain.
I was not surprised.
The bubbling sound
was made by boiling water.
I was not surprised.
The ceylon tea
smelled of earth.
It was refreshing.
Vapor danced over the surface
of the hot water,
over the wet herbs infused in it.
I danced holding the cup.
The vapor danced with me.
I put the hot tea to my lips.
It warmed me while
I cooled it.
It spilled on the carpet
But I did not care,
for I had more water
and it was ****** carpet anyway.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
Crooked widows like to bat
when the moon is high.
Under scoreboard asylum
they sip Ceylon tea
and scoff invisible buns
laughing at first love,
long after they realised
Cricket beats creases
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
I am the monarch of my tea --
which I drink at ten-past-three --
Whose praise Great Britain loudly chants,
As they lose themselves in caffein'd trance,
As they lose themselves in caffein'd trance,
(Of Loose Leafed Tea that's sourced in Ceylon,)
And clap their batons,
in breeches and ribbons,
in a dance!
When the amber brew is spied,
My ***** swells with pride,
And I snap my fingers in the tea-house haunt,
In the estaminets and the restaurant,
In the estaminets and the restaurant,
(Of Loose Leafed Tea that's sourced in Ceylon,)
To get my quota,
of ice-tea soda,
as my want!
But when the brew is cold,
I generally arms mine fold,
And seek my rights with an English rant!
And demand my due of this G-d-blest plant
And demand my due of this G-d-blest plant
(Of Loose Leafed Tea that's sourced in Ceylon,)
of hot English tea,
with milk 'n honey,
to decant!
Alternative:
I am the monarch of my tea --
which I drink at ten-past-three --
Whose praise Great Britain loudly chants,
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
Its critics and its pundits,
especially its pundits,
and savants!
When the amber brew is spied,
My ***** swells with pride,
And I snap my fingers in the tea-house haunts,
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
Its critics and its pundits,
especially its pundits,
and savants!
But when the brew is cold,
I generally arms mine fold,
And seek my rights with an English rant!
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
And so do its critics and its pundits and savants!
Its critics and its pundits
[some of whom are bandits],
and savants!
May 24, 2021
May 24, 2021 at 6:59 AM UTC
In which land?
In which sea?
In which island,
I seek thee?
Under the rising sun of Japan,
or the moon-marked sky of Palestine?
In Afghanistan or Paraguay,
Italy or Guinea?
Look! Look!
The Mississippi is the tear of the people of the sun, slips on the face of the Gulf of Mexico;
the Nile is the tear of thousands of Joseph, falling into the sea;
the Himalaya is the restless heart of the earth, jumped out of its chest;
Ceylon is a teardrop of the India, sitting in the corner of the ocean's eyes.
Ah!
Australia, faraway and distracted,
Europe, stupefied and drugged,
Africa, miserable and sad,
Asia, pale and bad,
America, red with anger and mad.
Chilean poesy springs are dry, and
Greece is at her wit's end.
Aye!
O magnificent dream,
O Imam of the time,
come with Christ!
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 10:02 AM UTC
Observe the water
My lovely daughter
For the water is at boil
Here, put this crushed ginger
Be sure not to burn your finger
Bit of crushed cardamom to flavour
Keep your face away from the vapour
Add a spoonful of ceylon tea leaves
Smell the aromatic flavour it gives
With a bit of milk and sweetness
Our tea is ready my cuteness
Sieve in two cups, let us sip slowly
For you are my little angel, my one and only...
©sim
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC
I am drinking
a canary yellow mug of
hot Ceylon black tea
wafting fragrant tea-steam into my nose;
as I sip the tea into my mouth
the water nourishes my thirst and
the hot tea warms my lips, teeth and tongue
and as I swallow
spreads warmth
into my throat
and down across my chest
and into my stomach.
I feel
nourished,
refreshed,
rejuvenated,
warmed-up.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 4:18 AM UTC