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Robin Carretti Jun 2018
The happy medium tea astrologer
Her tea leaves Google her anytime
Tea leaves of her poems

Another divine tea party just ask
Her lady of the Queen-dom
The fee for fun I'm in with
the mad crowd tea on the run
The tea party is getting loud
Eating those bonbons dreams
start to steep and stir he had his
overflow the house of Bel Air
Meet the Prince passionate
purple rain

Your cake and tea lips became a pain
You couldn't get a wink of the full
body flavor sleep

She’s the Subrosa tea worshipper

TEA TOUCH HER
TEACUP 1/2 TEARS
Her power not to push her moving
away from all the fears and years
Did the cat get your tongue?

He watches her in her sleep
He sees her tea eyes awake
All women stalk and tea talk
So much to write with tea poem

In France dark roast coffee
the secret competition was
my tea blend the winner raffle
It is au fond to be gratefully
Please don’t bottle Snapple
Remember you have the potential all
green money
but your eyes doorway he walks out
with your money? ahh

“Alltheformores” Tea tree lady calories
O-MY-God!

Mr.Tea toucher agent man
He keeps his right-hand
driving and the other hands Mmm…
Eyes ahead and hands on my tea
The green Emmy with poison ivy
She is the cherry pie of the black
cherry tea lie

How sneakily she buttered our cups that
butterscotch
How the seducer reducer tea she ******
up to him.

That secret’s its written in junk
buy one exotic hot-shot blend of
tea has her wits and
character and *****
So you don't stink like a rat pack
Eyes like an old tea bag
On a plane getting jet lag
smelling like a skunk

The green bull-eyes  army combat
trained always complains when
tea attention no baby blues
the green envy eyes
twice a week
tantalizing tea flavor vanilla
Godiva
On the Orient Express
Her tough exterior like a boss
not to cross
get involved with her assistant

She never brings the secret
flavor coffee on time and my tea is
Like a fortune cookie in rhymes
what tea business show business
homes ((Madhouse Paparazzi))
Eating hot sauce Ronzoni  half- Gothic
Sensual tea blend **** Bill ******
wouldn’t want to be anywhere
close to her dreams twice
Like a flower the subject Rosa
a petal of her tea

How can anyone see
through her spectrum
of colors scaring her face?
  That Madonna rebel heart of teas
Papa starts to
preach our teas
confessions
How did we touch tea leaf nerve?

Heres exactly what you deserve

Don’t we have an hour?
Tea demonstration of women's
hot boiling teas how the men
go down on their knees
When she wiped the steam off
she could see his face tea leaves

MADLY TEA PARTY OF SECRETS

Like those Rebel of Robin bird hearts
teacup of more tears
Going to the Spa that sauna
really drenched her
she was thinking of him.

How many secrets can we reveal?
Let’s not worry how we see through
peoples face as they stir their spicy tea
We all get a chance to take our last sip
of your lover’s tea

Tea Victorian could flower petal anyone's
thoughts hot-headed or over
Her iced ways or flaming her name
Ginger honey bear deeper the love affair
Her spiritual awakening transformation
Teavana or tea mint just another secret

TEA TOUCH HER TEACUP

1/2 hearts new start
She got mad but kept her cool to blush
her moving away from all the fears
who cares when we have the tea
forming to tears
it shows how we really are

She loved the shades of Japanese garden
So green suited her tree-lined block
Her pink sofa with such greenery
as her visions came strong he was there
All the time in her musical blend song

Whats in my drink, see her face
anxiously, what awaits, see her
through an ****** painting,
how it drips in a
Native-land Naples Italy
Those teacup puppies and French skirt
She narrow's anyone street you cannot
get anyone
To taste her tea for the couple beat
The museum addictions like an art
Colesium  the built for speed of teas
/Medium Astrologers/**** sipping
Watching the beauty of the statue's
Micheal Angelo, the musician playing
his Cello at least her teas weren't that
wiggly green jello

So Iced Queen tea spice
Romeo
Hello-Poetry
The exotic tiger Bengal teas
she roars in her jungle
poet clean mint tea
healthy gals
antioxidant
Green planet rocker leather
how his pants spread to the tip of
the shining armor book
she kept tight-lipped on you

She felt dragged how you were tied
secretly fit into her teacup
engraved ankle

Lips got damped tea flavors all limited
needed to give him
my special pampering all tramps
and tea thieves green shimmering
blend her best teas
Chai teas cinnamon girly

And the others Green 50+++ shades
deeper body vibe
Became mermaid blowfish tribe
Where like the Italian made
leash warriors
Roman empire ordered
a death wish

Tea secrets now or present
too smitten kitten tea gloves
and he was saying
I must have an heir,

Could fool anyone’s millionaire *** plan
became the butler’s on the deep-end
Madly tea taking the bad stick
such a plea
another scorching Porshe wrong coffee
tongue those mermaids turned the darkness
Grunge black side of their tea

Madly have eyes for you wilderness of
hearts deliciously
exposed
The pinball got caught too many sticky buns
they bit into___?

Those butler quarters was he going
to improve
all her secret’s wave of tiredness,
too much nickel and dime tea shops
She tried to subdue her situation
Barhops tea sips and she had away
by stirring her lips
Would she pay for her sins later?

Surfing the computer emailed or tea for two
mailed in a compromising tea imported love
what about tomorrow tea tears of sorrow

Let’s not focus too much on secrets
of forgotten yesterday

All her troubles so far away from Ireland
Or Liverpool London every tea bag
went nowhere
Yesterday song went everywhere imported
like her foreign exchange trade of teas
a mad tea party
no Alice Odd Moms invited


Tea Toucher ruling the world with magic

What’s really ringing, on the surface,
those terrible two teenagers? Something they
lost became tragic
Sage Tea-lady of Mount Fiji spice
Those greener then life mountain
tops to climb

How she opened his horizon to fan him on

over the media tea seduction escorted

Impression’s of intoxicating herbs imported
mermaids too many tails to slam
Strawberry field black tea forever with Beatles
Robin Bird of “ROOBUS, she was red devil blend
let’s trade  or swap some ****** teas for a tease

That madly kind of seduction
She has it all in her, patch sachet smells,
of ****** pleasure spices up words.
What is the reason for all this?
We never beg they gave
her a poem with a tea hug
Madly for anything but when we fink of tea does it relax you or feel like a tranquilizer or looking out of your bay window to see the sunrise well this is a tea blend story poem like no other relax let your tea kettle whistle Robin tea-bird is on your sill
mûre Feb 2013
About tea
Skinny tea, sweet tea,
Elixir exiling youth's ungainly exit
Tea and a lover, vogue tea,
Tea post ******, closing shoppe
Last call tea, homework, tea-and-a-boy
A born again tea boy
Cause she promised it was better than coffee
Kinda boy, the second steep
Citrus and swords battling them free radicals
Tea in a kiss, a sweet kiss, an oooooolong kiss
Third steep to keep and keep
Expensive swishy flower vase tea
Delicate butterfly **** **** tea
Tea time, closing time,
A steep for the road
Sleep off the load
Tea night,
Tea girl
About tea.
Damian Murphy Jun 2015
The question has to be asked, “How hard can it be,
for a man to get a decent cup of tea”?
How can people get something so simple so wrong?
A question that has vexed me for ever so long.

Let me be clear, lest there be any confusion
I’m not into tea leaves or these fancy new infusions
Nor herbal or green, earl grey or the rest
A good plain cup of tea is simply the best!

I wonder why it is that people bother to ask
When they will not put any real effort into the task
Yes they are careful to ask how you take your tea
But what you get is something different, entirely

If there is one thing that really gets to me
It is being made a half cup of tea
I always opt for a mug because there’s never enough in a cup
But for some reason they seem incapable of filling it up!

After just two mouthfuls, Surprise! It is all gone!
I hate always having to ask for another one
All the effort they made has gone to waste
The whole experience leaving a very bad taste.

Making tea is a formula, very hard to get wrong
why so often served weak when I always ask for strong?
A small drop of milk please, how hard can it be?
But I often get tea in my milk, not milk in my tea

I do like my sugar and to tell the truth
I do possess an awfully sweet tooth
“three and a bit” I say when they ask
But is stirring it such an impossible task?

How easy can it be? Just move the ****** spoon
You were just standing there, what else were you doing?
And to see all that sugar sitting there at the end
Would drive the most sane person round the bend

Another thing I get really mad about
Is when people do not take the teabag out
And though the cup appears to be full to the top
You take the bag out and watch the level drop

You might think it’s funny but it’s certainly not
What to do with a teabag that is dripping hot?
A cup of tea is supposed to help you relax
Not be the cause of minor heart attacks

And the biggest evil, by far the worst
Is those who serve tea, knowing the teabag has burst
At the end you get a mouthful of leaves and grit
I do love my tea but wonder if it is worth it.

It got to the stage where I considered drinking coffee
But I was bamboozled by the variety available to me
Mocha or latte, perhaps a frappuccino,
Or maybe an espresso or a cappuccino

No, the idea of drinking coffee just left me cold
all I really wanted was a cup of tea truth be told,
Though I have been accused of taking this issue too seriously
There is nothing in the world quite like…. a decent cup of Tea!
A PLAY


BY



ALEXANDER   K   OPICHO









THE CASTE
1. Chenje – Old man, father of Namugugu
2. Namugugu – Son of Chenje
3. Nanyuli – daughter of Lusaaka
4. Lusaaka – Old man, father of Nanyuli
5. Kulecho – wife of Lusaaka
6. Kuloba – wife of Chenje
7. Paulina – Old woman, neighbour to Chenje.
8. Child I, II and III – Nanyuli’s children
9. Policeman I, II and III
10. Mourners
11. Wangwe – a widowed village pastor

















ACTING HISTORY
This play was acted two times, on 25th and 26th December 2004 at Bokoli Roman Catholic Church, in Bokoli sub- location of Bungoma County in the western province of Kenya. The persons who acted and their respective roles are as below;

Wenani Kilong –stage director
Alexander k Opicho – Namugugu
Judith Sipapali Mutivoko- Nanyuli
Saul Sampaza Mazika Khayongo- Wangwe
Paul Lenin Maondo- Lusaaka
Peter Wajilontelela-  Chenje
Agnes Injila -  Kulecho
Beverline Kilobi- Paulina
Milka Molola Kitayi- Kuloba
Then mourners, children and police men changed roles often. This play was successfully stage performed and stunned the community audience to the helm.













PLOT
Language use in this play is not based on Standard English grammar, but is flexed to mirror social behaviour and actual life as well as assumptions of the people of Bokoli village in Bungoma district now Bungoma County in Western province of Kenya.

























ACT ONE
Scene One

This scene is set in Bokoli village of Western Kenya. In Chenje’s peasant hut, the mood is sombre. Chenje is busy thrashing lice from his old long trouser Kuloba, sitting on a short stool looking on.

Chenje: (thrashing a louse) these things are stubborn! The lice. You **** all of them today, and then tomorrow they are all-over. I hate them.
Kuloba: (sending out a cloud of smoke through her tobacco laden pipe). Nowadays I am tired. I have left them to do to me whatever they want (coughs) I killed them they were all over in my skirt.
Chenje: (looking straight at Kuloba) Do you know that they are significant?
Kuloba: What do they signify?
Chenje: Death
Kuloba: Now, who will die in this home? I have only one son. Let them stop their menace.
Chenje: I remember in 1968, two months that preceded my father’s death, they were all over. The lice were in every of my piece of clothes. Even the hat, handkerchief. I tell you what not!
Kuloba: (nodding), Yaa! I remember it very well my mzee, I had been married for about two years by then.
Chenje: Was it two years?
Kuloba: (assuringly) yes, (spots a cockroach on the floor goes at it and crushes it with her finger, then coughs with heavy sound) we had stayed together in a marriage for two years. That was when people had began back-biting me that I was barren. We did not have a child. We even also had the jiggers. I can still remember.
Chenje: Exactly (crashes a louse with his finger) we also had jiggers on our feet.
Kuloba: The jiggers are very troublesome. Even more than the lice and weevils.  
Chenje: But, the lice and jiggers, whenever they infest one’s home, they usually signify impending death of a family member.
Kuloba: Let them fail in Christ’s name. Because no one is ripe for death in this home. I have lost my five children. I only have one child. My son Namugugu – death let it fail. My son has to grow and have a family also like children of other people in this village. Let whoever that is practicing evil machinations against my family, my only child fail.
Chenje: (putting on the long-trouser from which he had been crushing lice) let others remain; I will **** them another time.
Kuloba: You will never finish them (giggles)
Chenje: You have reminded me, where is Namugugu today? I have not seen him.
Kuloba: He was here some while ago.
Chenje: (spitting out through an open window) He has become of an age. He is supposed to get married so that he can bear grand children for me. Had I the grand children they could even assist me to **** lice from my clothes. (Enters Namugugu) Come in boy, I want to talk to you.
Kuloba: (jokingly) you better give someone food, or anything to fill the stomach before you engages him in a talk.
Namugugu: (looks, at both Chenje and Kuloba, searchingly then goes for a chair next to him)
Mama! I am very hungry if you talk of feeding me, I really get thrilled (sits at a fold-chair, it breaks sending him down in a sprawl).
Kuloba: (exclaims) wooo! Sorry my son. This chair wants to **** (helps him up)
Namugugu: (waving his bleeding hand as he gets up) it has injured my hand. Too bad!
Chenje: (looking on) Sorry! Dress your finger with a piece of old clothes, to stop that blood oozing out.
Namugugu: (writhing in pain) No it was not a deep cut. It will soon stop bleeding even without a piece of rag.
Kuloba: (to Namugugu) let it be so. (Stands) let me go to my sweet potato field. There are some vivies, I have not harvested, I can get there some roots for our lunch (exits)
Chenje: (to Namugugu) my son even if you have injured your finger, but that will not prevent me from telling you what I am supposed to.
Namugugu: (with attention) yes.
Chenje: (pointing) sit to this other chair, it is safer than that one of yours.
Namugugu: (changing the chair) Thank you.
Chenje: You are now a big person. You are no longer an infant. I want you to come up with your own home. Look for a girl to marry. Don’t wait to grow more than here. The two years you have been in Nairobi, were really wasted. You could have been married, may you would now be having my two grand sons as per today.
Namugugu: Father I don’t refuse. But how can I marry and start up a family in a situation of extreme poverty? Do you want me to start a family with even nothing to eat?
Chenje: My son, you will be safer when you are a married beggar than a wife- less rich-man. No one is more exposed as a man without a wife.
Namugugu: (looking down) father it is true but not realistic.
Chenje: How?
Namugugu: All women tend to flock after a rich man.
Chenje: (laughs) my son, may be you don’t know. Let me tell you. One time you will remember, maybe I will be already dead by then. Look here, all riches flock after married men, all powers of darkness flock after married men and even all poverty flock after married. So, it is just a matter of living your life.
(Curtains)
SCENE TWO

Around Chenje’s hut, Kuloba and Namugugu are inside the hut; Chenje is out under the eaves. He is dropping at them.
Namugugu: Mama! Papa wants to drive wind of sadness permanently into my sail of life. He is always pressurizing me to get married at such a time when I totally have nothing. No food, no house no everything. Mama let me actually ask you; is it possible to get married in such a situation?
Kuloba: (Looking out if there is any one, but did not spot the eaves-dropping Chenje).
Forget. Marriage is not a Whiff of aroma. My son, try marriage in poverty and you will see.
Namugugu: (Emotionally) Now, if Papa knows that I will not have a happy married life, in such a situation, where I don’t have anything to support myself; then why is he singing for my marriage?
Kuloba: (gesticulating) He wants to mess you up the way he messed me up. He married me into his poverty. I have wasted away a whole of my life in his poverty. I regret. You! (Pointing) my son, never make a mistake of neither repeating nor replicating poverty of this home into your future through blind marriage.
Namugugu: (Approvingly) yes Mama, I get you.

Kuloba: (Assertively) moreover, you are the only offspring of my womb             (touching her stomach) I have never eaten anything from you. You have never bought me anything even a headscarf alone. Now, if you start with a wife will I ever benefit anything from you?
Namugugu: (looking agog) indeed Mama.
Kuloba: (commandingly) don’t marry! Women are very many. You can marry at any age, any time or even any place. But it is very good to remember child-price paid by your mother in bringing you up. As a man my son, you have to put it before all other things in your life.
Namugugu: (in an affirmative feat) yes Mama.
Kuloba: It is not easy to bring up a child up to an age when in poverty. As a mother you really suffer. I’ve suffered indeed to bring you up. Your father has never been able to put food on the table. It has been my burden through out. So my son, pleased before you go for women remember that!
Namugugu: Yes Mama, I will.
(Enters Chenje)
Chenje: (to Kuloba) you old wizard headed woman! Why do you want to put    my home to a full stop?
Kuloba: (shy) why? You mean you were not away? (Goes out behaving shyly)

Chenje: (in anger to Namugugu) you must become a man! Why do you give your ears to such toxic conversations? Your mother is wrong. Whatever she has told you today is pure lies. It is her laziness that made her poor. She is very wrong to festoon me in any blame…. I want you to think excellently as a man now. Avoid her tricky influence and get married. I have told you finally and I will never repeat telling you again.

Namugugu: (in a feat of shyness) But Papa, you are just exploding for no good reason, Mama has told me nothing bad……………………
Chenje: (Awfully) shut up! You old ox. Remove your ears from poisonous mouths of old women!
(Enters Nanyuli with an old green paper bag in her hand. Its contents were bulging).
Nanyuli: (knocking) Hodii! Hodii!
Chenje: (calmly) come in my daughter! Come in.
Nanyuli: (entering) thank you.
Chenje: (to Namugugu) give the chair to our visitor.
Namugugu: (shyly, paving Nanyuli to sit) Karibu, have a sit please.
Nanyuli: (swinging girlishly) I will not sit me I am in a hurry.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) just sit for a little moment my daughter. Kindly sit.
Nanyuli: (sitting, putting a paper-bag on her laps) where is the grandmother who is usually in this house?
Chenje: Who?
Nanyuli: Kuloba, the old grandmother.
Namugugu: She has just briefly gone out.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) she has gone to the potato field and Cassava field to look for some roots for our lunch.
Nanyuli: Hmm. She will get.
Chenje: Yes, it is also our prayer. Because we’re very hungry.
Nanyuli: I am sure she will get.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) excuse me my daughter; tell me who your father is?
Nanyuli: (shyly) you mean you don’t know me? And me I know you.
Chenje: Yes I don’t know you. Also my eyes have grown old, unless you remind
me, I may not easily know you.
Nanyuli: I am Lusaaka’s daughter
Chenje: Eh! Which Lusaka? The one with a brown wife? I don’t know… her name is Kulecho?
Nanyuli: Yes
Chenje: That brown old-mother is your mother?
Nanyuli: Yes, she is my mother. I am her first – born.
Chenje: Ooh! This is good (goes forward to greet her) shake my fore-limb my
daughter.

Nanyuli: (shaking Chenje’s hand) Thank you.
Chenje: I don’t know if your father has ever told you. I was circumcised the same year with your grand-gather. In fact we were cut by the same knife. I mean we shared the same circumciser.
Nanyuli: No, he has not yet. You know he is always at school. He never stays at home.
Chenje: That is true. I know him, he teaches at our mission primary school at Bokoli market.
Nanyuli: Yes.
Chenje: What is your name my daughter?
Nanyuli: My name is Loisy Nanyuli Lusaaka.
Chenje: Very good. They are pretty names. Loisy is a Catholic baptismal name, Nanyuli is our Bukusu tribal name meaning wife of an iron-smith and Lusaaka is your father’s name.
Nanyuli: (laughs) But I am not a Catholic. We used to go to Catholic Church upto last year December. But we are now born again, saved children of God. Fellowshipping with the Church of Holy Mountain of Jesus christ. It is at Bokoli market.
Chenje: Good, my daughter, in fact when I will happen to meet with your father, or even your mother the brown lady, I will comment them for having brought you up under the arm of God.
Nanyuli: Thank you; or even you can as well come to our home one day.
Chenje: (laughs) actually, I will come.
Nanyuli: Now, I want to go
Chenje: But you have not stayed for long. Let us talk a little more my daughter.
Nanyuli: No, I will not. I had just brought some tea leaves for Kuloba the old grandmother.
Chenje: Ooh! Who gave you the tea leaves?
Nanyuli: I do hawk tea leaves door to door. I met her last time and she requested me to bring her some. So I want to give them to you (pointing at Namugugu) so that you can give them to her when she comes.
Namugugu: No problem. I will.
Nanyuli: (takes out a tumbler from the paper bag, fills the tumbler twice, pours the tea leaves  into an old piece of  newspaper, folds and gives  it to Namugugu) you will give them to grandmother, Kuloba.
Namugugu: (taking) thank you.
Chenje: My daughter, how much is a tumbler full of tea leaves, I mean when it is full?
Nanyuli: Ten shillings of Kenya
Chenje: My daughter, your price is good. Not like others.
Nanyuli: Thank you.
Namugugu: (To Nanyuli) What about money, she gave you already?
Nanyuli: No, but tell her that any day I may come for it.
Namugugu: Ok, I will not forget to tell her
Nanyuli: I am thankful. Let me go, we shall meet another day.
Chenje: Yes my daughter, pass my regards to your father.
Nanyuli: Yes I will (goes out)
Chenje: (Biting his finger) I wish I was a boy. Such a good woman would never slip through my fingers.
Chenje: But father she is already a tea leaves vendor!
(CURTAINS)


SCENE THREE
Nanyuli and Kulecho in a common room Nanyuli and Kulecho are standing at the table, Nanyuli is often suspecting a blow from Kulecho, counting coins from sale of tea leaves; Lusaaka is sited at couch taking a coffee from a ceramic red kettle.


Kulecho: (to Nanyuli) these monies are not balancing with your stock. It is like you have sold more tea leaves but you have less money. This is only seventy five shillings. When it is supposed to be one hundred and fifty. Because you sold fifteen tumblers you are only left with five tumblers.
Nanyuli: (Fidgeting) this is the whole money I have, everything I collected from sales is here.
Kulecho: (heatedly) be serious, you stupid woman! How can you sell everything and am not seeing any money?
Nanyuli: Mama, this is the whole money I have, I have not taken your money anywhere.
Kulecho: You have not taken the money anywhere! Then where is it? Do you know that I am going to slap you!
Nanyuli: (shaking) forgive me Mama
Kulecho: Then speak the truth before you are forgiven. Where is the money you collected from tea leaves sales?
Nanyuli: (in a feat of shyness) some I bought a short trouser for my child.
Kulecho: (very violent) after whose permission? You old cow, after whose permission (slaps Nanyuli with her whole mighty) Talk out!
Nanyuli: (Sobbingly) forgive me mother, I thought you would understand. That is why I bought a trouser for my son with your money!
Lusaaka: (shouting a cup of coffee in his hand, standing charged) teach her a lesson, slap her again!
Kulecho (slaps, Nanyuli continuously, some times ******* her cheeks, as Nanyuli wails) Give me my money! Give me my money! Give me my money! Give me my money! You lousy, irresponsible Con-woman (clicks)
Lusaaka: Are you tired, kick the *** out of that woman (inveighs a slap towards Nanyuli) I can slap you!
Nanyuli: (kneeling, bowedly, carrying up her hands) forgive me father, I will never repeat that mistake again (sobs)
Lusaaka: An in-corrigible, ****!
Kulecho: (to Nanyuli) You! Useless heap of human flesh. I very much regret to have sired a sell-out of your type. It is very painful for you to be a first offspring of my womb.
I curse my womb because of you. You have ever betrayed me. I took you to school you were never thankful, instead you became pregnant. You were fertilized in the bush by peasant boys.
You have given birth to three childlings, from three different fathers! You do it in my home. What a shame! Your father is a teacher, how have you made him a laughing stock among his colleagues, teachers? I have become sympathetic to you by putting you into business. I have given you tea leaves to sell. A very noble occupation for a wretch like you. You only go out sell tea leaves and put the money in your wolfish stomach. Nanyuli! Why do you always act like this?
Nanyuli: (sobbing) Forgive me mother. Some tea leaves I sold on credit. I will come with the money today?
Kulecho: You sold on credit?
Nanyuli: Yes
Kul
this is a manuscript of a play, please guys help me get any publisher who can do publishing of this play
i  will appreciate. thanks
pluto Jun 2015
I always walk up the stairs with a cup of tea filled to the brim. Not even walking just taking small steps periodically just in case the tea spilled. Sometimes I made it to the top and sometimes I spilled it and I would have to come back downstairs, go the the kitchen, get a paper towel, wipe up the mess, throw the paper towel away and try again.

It was a very tedious Task.

My mother used to yell at me for the times I get too lazy to clean up the mess and just allow the tea to dry up on the floor to stick.

When I was twelve I realized how many times I allowed the tea to dry up. Most of the time I didn't even care if all the tea spilled by the time I got to the last staircase. The boiling hot tea spilling on my feet and the carpet and the granite didn't bother me. My mind was wayward- somewhere unknown. My thought process didn't care to think about my mother after a hard days work coming home to yell at her old enough daughter to stop drinking upstairs. She used to get so mad at me sometimes wondering why I always said "I don't care,".

She used to despise me for it, and I did too.

Maybe I liked how the tea burned my feet causing me to walk faster, maybe I liked the pain. Maybe I was too busy to care about the abundance of spills maybe I wasn't. Maybe I just didn't care.

The whole world stopped spinning for me but my mind didn't. I loved leaving a trail of sweet hot tea for me to follow again and again, my mother didn't.

Finally my mother broke all the teacups and threw away all the tea we had in the house. In all honesty I freaked out. I could've ripped the whole house from its foundation and throw it toward the horizon. I could've take matches and burn the place down letting its ashes fill the toxic sky. I could've done all of that.

But I didn't. I disintegrated into my covers and let my bed seep me in, like tea leaves brewing. I was brewing.

And like the perfect cup of tea, I finally became that dark, rich color with the perfect amount of milk and sugar, placed onto a saucer that was the right size. I the ridges kept me in place and the walk upstairs wasn't so bad anymore.
a poem about tea which was really about my depression but through the act of making tea. poetry. wild.
"Go on forth young graduates,

And show us who you are

You're now our future leaders

We know you will go far"

And so commencement ended

Pictures done and people changed

Now, off to private parties

All orderly pre-arranged

But four young girls stood waiting

Until they were alone

"Let's head out to the party

And tomorrow, we shall phone,

Each other and we'll organize

Our final tete a tete

We'll plan something so special

A thing we haven't thought of yet!"

So, they went their separate ways

And they thought of all the places

That would hold a fitting luncheon

For their girls group "The 4 Aces""

They all got home around half past five

And all slept till half ten

After breakfast, phones were ringing

As they planned to meet again.

They picked a little tea house

called "Flavored Leaves of Green"

They would meet for a tea party

They would really make the scene

A week today they chose to meet

To celebrate together

They'd meet for tea and cakes

Regardless of the weather

And one more time, they'd choose to wear

The prom dress from that year

Big frilly hats, and long white gloves

and all that froo froo gear

The day arrived and they showed up

All ready for their tea

The Aces all decked again

Their luncheon was at three

The girls all talked about their plans

Of school and summer work

Two would council campers

While the other two would clerk

They loved their day and played the part

Of ladies with no cares

They knew it was the only time

They'd dine here, to be fair.

The final act of these four friends

Before they left and packed

Was to sign a pledge between them all

You could say, a small pact

"In twenty years from this day forth

We'll meet again for tea

On July twenty seventh

Of the year Two thousand three"

The sheet was signed and on their way

They booked their reservation

The girls all hugged and said goodbye

To end their celebration

Now time went by as it always does

And each girl went a different way

But in twenty years, they all looked forth

To meet again that day

The firtst Ace, Jill, went on to school

And married while she studied

She lost track of her Aces friends

Their paths were slightly muddied

She went to school in Omaha

A vet she chose to be

Her marriage lasted fifteen years

And...well, children...she had three.

Andi, chose to work instead

She left town to chase rainbows

She knew that here, her *** of gold

Would be wherever she chose

She moved out to Chicago

Where she was a big success

She became a photo artist

With a Lakeshore Drive address

Cindy, well...dear Cindy

Married five times through the years

Each one was shorter than the last

And one....just fifteen beers

They chose to split the very night

They they chose to become one

He left with her head bridesmaid

And the catfight....it was fun

Cindy spent two nights in jail

For beating up her beau

And she really laid a beating,

In her words, "Upon that **"

Lucy, never did leave town

But she let on that she did

For at high school graduation

She was pregnant with her kid

Her boy was born at Christmas

She did not even tell his dad

He was off to find his fortune

And she sometimes wished she had

But, she made up tales to tell her son

Of who his father was

But, she never told the truth to him

And that was her son's loss

She worked around the village

Never really getting out

She did her best for her son Jamie

There never was a doubt

She loved this boy with all her heart

And so she chose to stay

She'd sacrifice her future

And she'd dream of "just what may"

have happened to her if she left

If he had not been born

But, to her, a life with out him

Made her feel sad, forlorn

Twenty years past by so fast

The Aces plans were set

Each one had hoped the other

Would not dare to forget

Allthough good friends in high school

They'd never kept in touch

They went different directions

Their new lives, well....were their crutch

Cindy was the first to show

So, she stayed outside to smoke

When a voice came from behind her

And she knew just who had spoke

Lucy, grabbed her arm

And then she hugged her really tight

At least two of the four Aces

had remembered, got it right

They went inside to grab a seat

And Jill came in behind

And over by the bar was where

Andi, they would find

They all dressed up and wore big hats

And prom dresses as a lark

And they sat and told their stories

Of their lives till after dark

They vowed that they would stay in touch

And that they would converse

They all agreed they'd talk this time

And nothing could be worse

Than twenty years of silence

Between friends like the Four Aces

Even though they lived such different lives

They missed each other's faces

Another pact was signed this night

But this one for five years

To meet again for tea and cakes

And they signed it through their tears

Cindy left to catch her flight

and Andi left as well

Then Jill got up and hugged Lucy

And then she bade farewell

This left Lucy all alone

At the table all alone

When a gentleman came over

And he sat down with a groan

"Your party was successful"

Lucy smiled at his words

He was the tea house owner

A collector of rare birds

She thanked him for the party

It was one she could not miss

And on her way out past him

She gave him a light kiss

For not only did the tea room

Belong to this kind man

He was also her employer

For, 'twas his kitchen that she ran

You see, now it's been twenty years

Since they went to lead their lives

Some becoming so successful

Some becoming moms and wives

But Lucy, never left this burg

She raised her son alone

And she'd worked at this small tea house

It was her second home

She did not have the money

To come in as a guest

But her boss, was a sweetheart

And he'd made this night the best

Tomorrow she'd be back at work

Making meals for those who came

To the "Flavored leaves of Green"

and she'd be Lucy, once again..
..
For Kelly....
Tea Talk (or Taking Tea)


Jam comes first
And then the cream
Said the scone from Cornwall
To one ‘n’ all
Taking tea

Milk jug blinked.
The teaspoon gasped,
Who would have linked
The layers of bliss that sweetly kiss
With their order between the halves of a scone
From Cornwall
Where one ‘n’ all
Know that the milk is churned
Until it’s solid
Then we say the cream is clotted.

The teapot looked at the scone from Devon
Who knows that cream and jam is heaven
But only if the cream comes first
And then the jam . . . . .
My thoughts exactly said the ham
From between its sandwich fingers
Where it lingers
Until it’s time for tea.

‘Are you sure?’ the teacup said
To ham within its breaden bed.
Saucer asked the cucumber salad,
‘Should jam come first?’
‘But does it matter?’ said cucumber salad.
‘It’s a ballad
So red and white,
A symphony of taste
Into which to bite.
It is so right
For those who are taking tea,’

‘Jam then cream, is what you do,’
Insisted Cornwall’s scone who
As we know likes cream to be clotted.
But tomato blushed and quickly said,
‘With cream from Devon I am besotted
Because we know it’s clotted. . . . .
Too.

Onion, hearing Cornwall and Devon
Knows that cream and jam are heaven . . . . .
But jam and cream are bliss
Sealed with a kiss that is heaven . . . . .too.
The dilemma of order fuels onion’s frustration
And onion’s tears lead to prostration
For those who are taking tea.

What is to be done
To solve the question of order
Jam first . . . . . or cream?
The issue borders
On the ridiculous
As the layers sweetly intermingle
Like the lovers’ kiss
As those who are taking tea
Bite . . . . .
Ouch! said onion
The scone from Cornwall
And the scone from Devon
‘Either way is heaven.

David Applin

Copyright …David Applin (2015)
.....after visiting Reid's Hotel, Funchal Madeira
Redshift Sep 2013
i saved all the tea my grandmother sent me
in her vacant-expression birthday
easter
christmas
thinking of you
cards.
thinking of you -
that is all
happy easter -
that is all
happy birthday -
that is all
not even an automated smile
a pre-written well-wish
the most primal of cards
full of tea.
i open the tea
smell it
hold it
look at it
decipher it
grandmother,
you send me a blank card
with your and grandfather's name
and a little baggy of tea
could you not at least say
i am sorry
is this tea an apology?
you always spoke through tea
but this tea i cannot decrypt
i saw you just the other day
i didn't say a word to you
hardly looked at you
i watched you sneak a picture of me with your old camera
laughing with my friends
is this tea
i miss you tea?

grandma,
it's ok.
this wasn't your fault,
it was your daughter's
i do miss you
i will save the tea you sent me.
underthetree Mar 2014
his mother woke up
on the day that she found him
and started her day
with tea and toast

on the first morning
that she went to the doctors
for her first scan
because she felt sick
she had no tea and toast

the first time she
slept at the fathers house
the next morning he made up
tea and toast


the first trimester
her cravings got strong
and she did nothing but ate
tea and toast

the day after birth
she cradled his head
and sang him a song
whilst she ate tea and toast

the day of the crash
his dad stayed overnight
and in the hospital cafe
he ate tea and toast

the day it turned off
father did nothing but cry
so he didnt have time
for tea and toast

as  he grew up
his father found out
that he wasnt too fond
of tea and toast

when father lost his senses
he would sit up and wait
every morning and feed him
more tea and toast

the day of the funeral
he was so stuck
the only thing he could do
was eat tea and toast
sincurlyxbaki Jan 2014
I asked myself over a warm cup of tea, "what kind of beauty is there in finding mystery in yourself?"
I took a little sip, and had more thoughts.
And so I scribbled, a few words on a piece of paper.
a fine day indeed to be playing Thelonious Monk,
one of my favorite Jazz pianists.
y'know, his music has a certain type of soul to it, something inviting about it. I dunno.

with that cup of tea still in hand, I listened to the ocean dance while Monk rushed over the piano keys.

that cup of tea smelled like years of fear and peace to come.
that cup of tea reminded me of the first time I burnt my finger with a candle when I was still a kid.
that cup of tea reminded me of my first love.

it reminded me that I'm still 17, it also tasted like conversations I had with friends about girls we'd never have.
"that girl. she's the one, you'd probably have a chance with her. say something, you shy mo'fo."
but then again it wasn't about probability.

it tasted like 5AM in the morning after your first breakup.
it tasted like 4PM when you wrote your first poem.
it tasted like bitterness.

the tea tasted like my love for things that have aged.
'65 Mustangs and inked pages.
ripped jeans and new faces.
jazz music and new places.

its funny what tea can do one's mind once it burns your tongue and runs down your oesophagus to warm your lungs.

Monk's music in the background, I still scribbled words on a piece of paper.
if only this moment could linger.

cup of tea, cup of tea, what type of flavor did you leave in me?

see, when i stare at this cup, it seems as if it holds unneccessary emptiness.
but can still hold my deepest desires in liquid form - a warm cup of tea.

I probably wrote all of this after I burnt my tongue with tea.
but then again, this isn't about probability.

this is from the deep of things, with love.

sincurlyxbaki
Terry Collett Nov 2015
I arrived
at Janice's grandmother's flat
for the doll's tea party
as I said I would

and Janice took me
into her bedroom
as her gran was in
the sitting room

with two of her elderly friends
talking over cups of tea
Janice showed me
into her room

where there was
a single bed
and a small table
arranged beside it

with two small chairs
in which sat Teddy
a yellowish bear
Golly a red smiling lipped

black doll
and Miss Woolworth
a blonde doll
with curly blonde hair

and blue staring eyes
and a pouty mouth
and a rag doll
with one eye

the other one
empty space
after she had introduced me
to the tea party guests

she showed me
the small stainless tea ***
and six small teacups
and a stainless milk jug

and bowl with a few sugar lumps
do you take sugar?
she asked
I said two and she put

two sugar lumps in a tea cup
and one in hers
and poured the tea
into my cup

and added milk from the jug
she made her own tea
and sat on the bed beside me
then she poured

pretend tea in the cups
of the guests
on the small table
was a plate of small ice cakes

Gran made them for us
Gran's friends have the rest
Janice said
and on  another

small plate were four
fingers of KitKat
I sipped the tea  
it was weak but warm

in the other room
voices laughed
what's the doll
with one eye called?

I asked
Cyclops
she replied
funny name for a girl doll

I said
don't you remember
Mr Finn saying about
a one-eyed person

the other week?
Janice said
he said it was
a one-eyed savage giant

I replied
o did he?
she said
frowning her forehead

o I see
she said
never mind
I said

it's as good a name
as any
she wasn't convinced
and frowned harder

maybe I ought to call her Grace
Janice said
Grace?
I said

yes I had an aunt
who had one eye called Grace
Janice informed
what was the other eye called?

I said
she laughed out loudly
and then put a hand
over her mouth

and whispered
best not make
too much noise
or Gran will wonder

what we're doing
I sipped more tea
and took one of the iced cakes
we ate the cakes in silence

I gazed at the Golly
smiling at me
then Teddy who sat
with a small

silly smile sewn on
after cakes Janice gave me
a KitKat finger
and we sat

and ate those too
Miss Woolworth hasn't been well
Janice said
o what's wrong with her?

I asked
her left leg
has come loose
and dangles

when you lift her up
Janice said
o dear
I said

giving Janice a stare
she seemed serious
so I didn't smile
there was more laughter

from the women
in the other room
Janice looked at me
and said

glad you could come
and so is Teddy
he likes company
I said

I enjoyed it
and after sipping
the last of the tea
she showed me

her new red beret
and placed it
on her blonde hair
and smiled

then kissed
my cheek
best go
I said

glad other boys
never saw the kiss
or they'd think
I'd gone weak.
A BOY AND GIRL AND THE PARTY 1956 IN LONDON.
Čortoloman Feb 2018
Tea
I like tea.
All sorts of tea exists.
Some for illness, some to calm, some to bring you up.
You came to my threshold one day asking me to show you the light.
And so i made a tea that sings the song of creation, a tea that brigs death to the living and life to the dead, a tea that suits you the most.

You drank it without hesitation, A tea I could make only once, A tea made of my heart and soul.

The world was turned upside down. The past and the future became only a part of you yet all united in the one and only. To exist or not became the same and both were at the same time.

Your voice was the one heard by all. Your mind was the seed of all war, love, death and life.

Yet came the day the tea wore off.
You were turned to dust and became a part of my threshold.

I gave you the tea not to rule others but yourself. Now another eternity has to pass in order for you to appear again...
Kuzhur Wilson Aug 2014
Around 4 in the evening, I proceeded to Karaikkal, a Union Territory.

By the time we reached Nagapattinam, I noticed that the driver was tired and asked him to have a strong cup of tea. When he was gulping it reluctantly, I, who did not like strong tea, watched the cows walking along the narrow ways. But, the cows did not look at me. The cows I watched. The cows that did not pay any attention to me. I was a bit out of breath realizing how quickly nonexistent relationships were formed in an unknown Tamil village.  I lit up one more cigarette. I remembered the doctor in Britain, a stunning beauty, who prescribed that as soon as I found it difficult to breathe I should light up a cigarette. ****! When it is hard to breathe because of nonexistent relationships and when I light up a cigarette as an antidote to that, there appear row upon row of relationships of some sort or other.  

I began to detest bitter strong tea. I was irked by the cows that went along the narrow ways. I felt hatred towards their not so small udders. An afternoon dawned one day when I felt the same kind of vengeance towards udders. The blood stains from the udders that were slashed down emerged on my hands, legs, back and under belly.

Once again I felt revulsion for bitter strong tea. The driver sipped the hot bitter tea. I hated the moment when I asked him to have tea. I loathed the words that I used to say that. I despised even the words that I had kept in reserve to say that.

Then, I watched the people etching tattoos by the roadside. I wondered how it will be if I got a tattoo for myself.  I tried to recall how deep I was to get a tattoo done.

A person I liked.
A name I liked.
A place I liked.
A digit I liked.
A syllable I liked.
A memory I liked.

I felt a lot of aversion. Wondered if I should tattoo my mother’s name on my shoulder. I found it amusing that when I die people may identify me by my mother’s name. But, I felt sad when I thought that stranger women may plant their kisses on it. ****! I felt so sad.  I abhorred those bitter cups of tea and narrow ways. I lit up one more cigarette.  Then, I, who tattooed my mother’s name on my shoulder, started decaying on the spot.  Rotting with a terrible stench. The people, the cows and the goats that I did not mention before bolted.  Abruptly, the driver came and told me that we could move from there.  I felt so bitter towards even the bitter tea that was inside him.

Somehow, we reached Karaikkal. Yes, at 630 in the evening. Even though I had never been to Karaikkal, a Union Territory, I sat on the same chair in the same corner of the same bar. The bearer poured me the wine.

He kept pouring the wine.
He kept pouring the wine.
The wine kept emptying.
The wine kept emptying.
The wine kept unraveling.
The wine kept unraveling.

It was a Dutch woman who gathered me up and took me with her when I got totally unraveled. She was older than me. There was no power in her room. The way she washed my body in lukewarm water could have put to shame even the midwives giving a bath to babies. When I rose up sometimes and asked her name, she sealed my lips with hers. When it was repeated many times, I thought that her name must mean something like a kiss. And, she never spoke a word except with lips.

Unraveling wine, lukewarm water, the nonstop conversation by lips. Though lips got tired, I heard the murmur from my pelvis. She too must have heard that. She touched my *****. Quite a guy she exclaimed cracking a joke. Told her I salvaged it from the sea at Tanjore and it was some temple mast some sculptor abandoned. If it’s a temple mast, let the festival begin she said.

It was some festival.
Festival of festivals.
Black lacquer bangles, vermilion, ribbons
Hydrogen balloons
Spinning tops
It was some festival.
Festival of festivals.

A simile as washed out as a festival ground emptied of crowds. For the lack of a better one.  Returned from Karaikkal, a Union Territory, at some hour.  I dumped that taxi driver on the way. Not only because I was disgusted with bitter tea, but also because his name was not Thintharoo.

I can never again put up with a driver whose name is not Thintharoo.




**(trans by Ra Sh)
Thintharoo - it is also my poetry collection name. will come soon
Colm Apr 2016
The waitress asks what will it be
And I respond with quite ease
No dish or side this time for me
But a cup of tea if you would please

Though graciously she does agree
That half past two is time for tea
She soon returns with what I need
A cup of tea if you would please

A purple *** she sets by me
With spoon to stir the boiling tea
I calmly raise my cup to thee
To a cup of tea if you would please

As wisps of steam drift up with ease
The rolling in my tum decrees
This chai delight empowers me
A cup of tea if you would please

No sugar will I ever need
To taste the apple and the seed
The spice of life which sets me free
Just a cup of tea if you would please

Now comes my check it's time to leave
And the bottom of my cup I see
One final sip to go with me
A cup of tea if you would please

-SS
Linguistic Play Sep 2013
Friends, family, foes, and those of woe,
I invite you to dance this delicate tango with me,
right on the line of reality and fantasy.
It is here, that,
I invite you to the mad tea party.

Now, let us get one or two,
three or four,
maybe ten, one hundred, zero things straight,
you are not to be late to the mad tea party,
you are to set your time straight and do not stray,
but rather show up without delay at the time that serves your mental estate,
at a time that feels right with your bones,
now, now don't miss that time and don't be late.
We are of strict dress code here at the mad tea party.
You are not to wear what you saw on him and she and her and we unless it is of,
suitable expression to your situation,
you are to dress accordingly with your mentality,
nothing else will pass the test.
You are to act accordingly.
Do not laugh when not appropriate, and sit up straight when your spine tells you.
Do not speak when your mind is forced to be spoken.
Now, have we all straight.

I cordially invite you to the mad tea party.
Where we dine and wine and tell tales of time,
and rejoice on the words those delicately spoke,
and dance on the lines theatrically strewn across the room,
and sail across every last tale from you and he and yeah her over there too.
I invite you to the mad tea party.

I invite you tell of when you first saw the earth breath,
when the trees and the leaves set to dancing,
when you first heard the wind laugh at your grin,
and when the raindrops ran fearfully from the erupting sky.
I demand of you to tell nothing but that of truth,
and watch as the molecules in the air take to vibrating.
Take notice to musical clinking of the entities amidst you,
and take pride in the gentle stride of the clouds overhead.
Did you notice the flowers laughing at you,
in between the birth, death and rebirth in accordance with the sun?
Did you notice the flowers pull in their petals as they shyed from your step?
Take notice to the music and laughter around you at the mad tea party,
take great care with the feelings floating about the air, vulnerably buzzing from mind to mind,
before their decline and descent to rest their heads.


You see, it is here at the great mad tea party,
that we do not devoid you of the ability to do as your energy demands,
with the issues of time and dress and proper behavior.
It is here that we tend to focus on the earth and the breathing of the molecules and atoms  around you,
it is here that we go mad.
and it is here that I cordially invite you,
but before you make your reservation, please eliminate all hesitation.
You see the mad tea party is not readily accepted,
by the constraints of society and the binds of reality.
You see the mad tea party is misconstrued by masses more than just a few.
Those who long buried their soul look down on the guests,
for they are different than the rest, in that, they're welcoming,
into their soul the ability to go mad which is taught to be bad.
So before you make your reservation be inexplicably sure,
that you are in fact,
ready, for the mad tea party.
Kruti Jun 10
It was my first visit at his place
We were meeting after so many days
With the mix of excited and nervous face
I finally entered in his curated space.
He welcomed with a smile and embrace
We sat on the couch, I kept looking at his grace.

"So all our pending chats for later we can save
First of all, tell me what would you like to have?"
He asked.


"Always Tea!!
In the morning with the first ray of sun
When I wake up every day for the long day run
I love to have a cup of tea strong, lightly sugared,
Hot, extra milk with sometimes ginger well figured."

"Aaahh! Tea lover, I see
So you start your day with tea
Well! I seek my big cup of coffee roasted dark
With two shots of espresso, brewed in french spark,
Nutty and a lot creamy.
Like you, hot and steamy"

"Oh my God!! Steamy and hot.
In flirting you never miss the shot
So you are a coffee guy, but I like my chai!!
Why don't we exchange our mugs today
You have my tea and I will have a coffee day
What say!??"

"Okay so done! Your all the tea parties you will forget
This is my special coffee dear, you will never regret"

And we went towards the kitchen to make our brews
Knowing that we were from the two different crews

"Don't secretly stare at me like this
Look at your coffee, else it'll be a miss"
I said.

"The same long hairs and oh that bliss
You didn't change at all, my shy Miss.
It has been a long time let me see,
And you just concentrate on your tea!"


So we finally sat with
His cup of coffee and my cup of tea
With the scent of fresh brews, he played smooth jazz song
His voice whispered in my ears, ringing with the beats along.
I found myself tangled in those strings of little infinities.
Listening to him constantly I was feeling special affinities.

Surrrp! We took sip after sip at a very slow pace,
He started praising me with a big curve on his face,
We discussed how we got lost in the life's rat race
And reminisced old time with a bunch of memory retrace

On this perfect scene of tea and coffee…
I look up and see a smiling face staring at me
With that sparkle in those eyes of something new.
Something worth the tea and coffee brew.
What do you Love Tea or Coffee?
Tell in the comments below
Sethnicity Jun 2015
V
I don't know where to start... I feel pain
infinite points traced around my brain.
Many ticks ***** injustice migraines
Now I wanna vent on hot air blimps
self proclaimed pimps
till my tongue twists limp
or turn a loaded gun on immature mutual funds
my grain is rough
and I've grown bitter an tough
my mind metal is scuffed
I Dizzied my Gills be cheeks blowin up guts
what happened to the wonderful world
musta been the Tea.. now I'm Ralphing up Chucks
high society
in memory
it used to be
where I wanted to be
Visa Via
English living was the life for me
guess I'd traded up for some Hot **** reaL-It-Tea
I think I've had enough
guess I stuffed and over fluffed
had too much empty v (MTV)
sipping on that 4 twin Tea
Now I gotta V!

IV
I vibrate so viciously
I violate all variations of conform Ahh!, Tea
Been too long slipping on and spilt ma Qi

I'm tired of
The warnings the warming the tide turning the swarming
Killer bees  Wu is me
for I've been sipping on Boo Blue Tea

III
I lost my voice yet still voting
while Hippy flippies are still steady chat hosting
I'm Roasting poli-sci-fi-ers who can't find a town square
but got bags of opinions on world politics here and there
face-booking without a book in their face
fighting freedom by being dumb ignoring the truth such a disgrace
soldiers fighting harder at home to make it a home
feeling lost and alone their kids barely even grown
ready to start living
thought he was done with the killing
till he saw a villain on his throne life lost all appealing
come to find out that his wife had done gone
so settled on hanging strange fruit to shadow shalom
While
I'm so far out of the zone
that I get these messages on my cellular phone
Reality Strike terror Domes unsafe at home Wu is me
I'm miles away sipping on Too Long Tea

II
Yet homeless happy people without thrive ability
party pushers posting pictures with such jive hostility
acting out with rational it's like sporting politically
Obama's on my starting team with poll pushing agility
I Got two Clintons on my backup fantasy league
don't watch local games or who's selling off senate seats
not all are frozen but most have chosen illiterately
on the block taking tokens steady smokin and broke and  
no matter for realities that are steadily approaching
call me young in notion but I can't stand for lack of motion
late nights to early mornings I'm writing in search of potion
like Juliet rests in pieces I see the gauntlets broken
YOU can't save the planet **** IT so Janet pass on posting
Nothin new under sun we **** for fun and Whales **** in the ocean
as if Ape won't **** Ape Mother Earth will keep her motion
Wu is Me now I see I've been
Sipping on Too Wrongs Lefty

I
I hope you know I care
but start by loving your neighbor there and their and they're
reciprocate the truth and stand aloof of those who dare
put money before truth
visage before root
facsimile before proof
save the sympathy for devils
or get the **** out my booth

Check the numbers
Global hunger
riches blundered
voice down under
jobless convicts
bodies ditch in
Wars we pitched in

I'm talking about true world vision

social image
tweeting pigeons
Madolf mongrels
hate crime heroes
Welfare wealthy
advertising gimmicks
famous like ***** limericks
IMF, what a concept
acceptable debit?
nuclear threats
hating one another for what we choose to worship!?
It's already on our doorstep...
... yet we get hung up on the stu pet
"Ooh! Ahh!" "Green" Part Tea Bullshat!
Clinging to our jobs not because we like what we do
but we feel we have too!
Some parts of the world unite for things
other than Death and Dollars Popularity and Power!
... now look at US!
I'm just A fish on a diet of Super fishy all lit Tea

0
What do rants and arguments with myself and the world lead to?
Long silent sips of tea.. and this.
We should get coffee unless you drink tea
I'll still order coffee--two sugars, you'll see.
If we go for coffee and you order tea,
We'll sip on our silence
It'll taste bitter but sweet.
If you order tea, is it hot or cold?
Raspberry or lemon? Am I coming off too bold?
I'll always drink coffee, I'll never get tea.
I crave the sensation and steaming caffeine.
When I order coffee and you sip your tea,
We'll talk about music, classic rock, maybe indie?
We won't sit too close, but we won't be too far.
I'll wonder if you're like me and hate going to the bar.
We should get coffee even if you drink tea,
I'll know you got raspberry because you'll kiss me.
Eriko Feb 2016
I hug this mug of tea
this sweet, black cherry tea
warmth seep through the porcelain
a wonderful sensation blooming
on my tongue

yet, that old fellow over there
with cowered eyes flecked with grey
a long peppered beard and hair so thick
he had a crane which endured all the sick
and came to poke his gnarled  finger
at my cup of tea

dear, he said oh dear
and I tilted my head
not knowing what to be said
do you see what you have done to yourself?

I glance down down, at my fingers wrapped
around the cup of tea
the tea was not steaming, nor warmth presented
my fingers were merely frozen
and the sweetness was long forgotten

the pooling black cherry
I saw my face reflected
and I didn't recognize
the eyes blinking anymore

who gave you that tea?
the old wise man whispered
that tea was a gift to me
I whispered even quieter still
the tea have grown cold long ago
and you have been here huddled all alone
he haven't bothered an offer of hospitality
he left you to grow cold and still

and I realized, my hands shattered the porcelain
the tea dripped in a sludge
I kicked at the broken pieces
and began to spark a flame

and now why the bright orange flame?
the old man said and sat in the grass
I am kindling my own
I said with a fiery puff of breath
he chuckled and nodded
you have grown wiser
*with a rare undertone
starting to realize that some people who are not what I thought to be.
also striving to be more independent
Jackie Mead Jan 2018
We polished the brass door knocker
And
Swept the front door step
When the Sailor came to tea

We laid the table with our finest cloth
And
We set  the table with the prettiest fine bone china
When the Sailor came to tea

We served scones with jam and cream
And
We made sandwiches of all shapes and sizes
When the Sailor came to tea

We invited our relatives from afar
And
We invited our friends too
When the Sailor came to tea

We served Champagne with lots of fizz
And
We served Orange juice too
When the Sailor came to tea

We talked about interesting things of the day
And
We danced to, the beat of the latest music
When the Sailor came to tea

We felt the love in the room
And
We felt the love in our hearts
When the Sailor came to tea

I was delighted to be there
As
You see it had been 4 long years since  my brother the Sailor last came to tea
lily Oct 2016
It was made by her hand
Just like other days
Adding tea milk and sugary sugar
Except one thing
That was her love
Her beautiful hand
Left she used for all her works
With the ring
Represented the bond of life
The tea cup was lucky and happy
To be carried by her hand
Smooth and soft
The tea cup was overflowed with happiness
It smiled
But she thought it was steaming
Due to hotty hot boiled water
It was the destination of its journey
She kept it on a table
Clear and well organized
With a laptop on it
A man kept staring at it
But he did not notice
That she brought a tea
Did not smile with her
The tea cup felt strange
The man was ignoring it
The tea cup was boring
The morning breeze came in
From the opened windows
Tea cup felt sad
The smile started to fade
The curls of steam started to fade
As it was crying hard
One hour left
The man was gone
The tea cup was alone
The steam too has gone
Cold it was
Q Mar 2014
Am I not your cup of tea?
Did I add a teaspoon too much insanity?
Does your mouth twist at the taste of me?
Am I not your cup of tea?

Or do I fit you perfectly?
When you see the crazy,
Do you drink deeply?
Am I your perfect cup of tea?

Am I far too bitter?
Can you even taste the sweet?
Did I add too much hurt,
To be your perfect cup of tea?

Or maybe you take your tea black.
Maybe I'm just right.
Maybe you sip and savor
Maybe I'm just the right kind.

Am I not your cup of tea?
Did I steep too much of me?
Were the additives too sweet
To be your perfect cup of tea?
Pretty girl Feb 2017
i am a tea cup

I am a tea cup 
Round with a handle 
i am a handful 
tea too hot 
i live in a hotel 
the room a river 
things come and go
but i always stay 

i... am.... grey.
a tea cup who is rain 
and wind and leaves
leaves blow past you soaked in tea
technically... im not a tea cup 
but pretending is okay 

My plate is ugly 
im not clean 
people don't lift their pinky when they hold me

the message is seen
black all over me
inside of me 
T... E.... A...

it makes me shake violently 
im violet can't they see
My face isn't a face
but an opening 
my body not a body 
but a handle 

carry me
an ocean full of tea
Leaves from a tree
lined up delicately 

Wooden tea cups
A collection for the 
take me
drink me
break me
but do not set me free
Terry Collett Apr 2015
Milka sat on the grass outside the farmhouse. It was a warm day and insects buzzed the air. Benny had just gone off on his bike; she hadn't wanted him to go, but he had  to be some place else and he had ridden off. Her mother had arrived and was carrying bags of shopping from the boot of the car into the house. She gave Milka a look as if to say: You could help, but said nothing, hoping that a look would indicate the need, but Milka looked back at the road hoping Benny would return to her. Although they'd had *** in her bed-while her mother was out shopping- she felt she needed him still, as if the *** had not been enough, as if her appetite was bottomless. The mother disappeared inside the house, then came out again to the car for more bags. You could help rather than sit there looking into space, her mother said. Milka got up from the grass and made her way over to the boot of the car and picked out two of the lighter bags and carried them behind her mother into the house and placed them on the kitchen table. Anything else? Milka said. Her mother looked at her and saw the stance of her daughter and how reluctant she seemed to be of any real use and shook her head. No, wouldn't want to put you out in anyway, the mother said. I can help if you want me to, Milka said. Make me a drink of tea, then, her mother said. Milka filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove and lit up the stove with a match, then put three spoonfuls of tea into the teapot. She took two cups and saucers from the cupboard and laid them on the top. Her mother put away the groceries and then sat down at the table and  watched her daughter going about the task of tea making. What have you been doing while I’ve been shopping? Her mother asked, you were in bed when I left. Milka looked at her mother. The kettle began to boil. She said, got up and washed and dressed and ate breakfast. Her mother's eyes scanned her. That all? Her mother said. Had she seen Benny along the road? Had she passed him? She gazed at her mother for any clues or maybe a hint as if her mother was testing her. Benny came for a while, Milka said, he's just gone. I know, I saw him along the road riding his bike, her mother said, he waved. The two females looked at each other for a few moments in silence. What did you do? Her mother asked. Questions and questions. As if she suspected. She looked at her mother's face. Took in the eyes. I showed him the baby piglets, Milka said, he thinks they're cute. She had shown him the piglets just before he'd left. After the ***. After the *** and while she was still damp and yet still hungry for it. He's a good boy, her mother said, I like him. I know you do. If only you were younger. Milka nodded and looked at the kettle boiling and whistling away on the stove. She put the hot water in the teapot and stirred the tea-leaves around with a spoon. He'd make a good farm helper, her mother said, shame he's otherwise engaged in that nursery work. Milka poured two cup of tea and added milk and sugar. She took both cups in saucers to the table and sat down. He has worked on a farm he told me, Milka said, when he was thirteen helping out after school. Her mother smiled. And sipped her tea. It'd be good if he worked here, her mother said, on the farm. Yes, you'd like that wouldn't you, having him about the place so you could fuss over him, wishing you were younger, wishing you were a girl again. Ask him, Milka said, knowing he wouldn't, knowing he was happy where he was. I will next time I see him, her mother said. Milka sipped the tea. She still felt damp and sticky. She'd go up and wash down later. She watched her mother sipping tea, looking at the table, thinking. If only you knew what we did earlier, you'd not think him so good. She moved her bottom on the chair, to get comfortable. The image of Benny in her bed was still stuck there in her head. Her arms around his waist. He entering her. She sighed. Her mother looked up at her. What’s up with you? She asked, studying her daughter closely. Stomach pains, Milka said, the first thing that came up in her head. Her mother studied her. Can't believe you're that age, her mother said, don't seem long ago you were pushing a dolls pram around the place. I'm fifteen and have the week coming up, Milka said, pulling a face. When I was your age I’d started work, her mother said. I will when I leave school in July, Milka said, secretly rubbing herself below. Time flies, her mother said, draining her cup of tea, must get on with the housework. She stared at Milka. You can help by tidying your bed and your room, she said. The bed. She had tidied it a bit after the ****** acts, but it may need proper seeing to. Yes, I'll do it when I've drunk my tea, she said, hoping her mother wouldn't venture in her room before her, hoping she'd not see any signs. Make sure you do. I've never seen such an untidy room, her mother said. If she'd seen it earlier it was a right mess. Seen us. At it.  She blushed. Her mother had gone. She felt herself redden in the face. What if she had returned early? What if she had opened the door? Her heart missed a beat. It seemed too surreal to think about. Where was Benny now? Seventeen and at work for two years and she wants him here working? If she knew. She went to the window and peered out. It was warm out and the sky was a brighter blue.
A GIRL AND HER MOTHER AND SECRETS AND DESIRES IN 1964.
Sethnicity Nov 2016
V
I don't know where to start... I feel pain
infinite points traced around my brain.
Many ticks ***** injustice migraines
Now I wanna vent on hot air blimps
self proclaimed pimps
till my tongue twists limp
or turn a loaded gun on immature mutual funds
my grain is rough
and I've grown bitter an tough
my mind metal is scuffed
I Dizzied my Gills be cheeks blowin up guts
what happened to the wonderful world
musta been the Tea.. now I'm Ralphing up Chucks
high society
in memory
it used to be
where I wanted to be
Visa Via
English living was the life for me
guess I'd traded up for some Hot **** reaL-It-Tea
I think I've had enough
guess I stuffed and over fluffed
had too much empty v (MTV)
sipping on that 4 twin Tea
Now I gotta V!

IV
I vibrate so viciously
I violate all variations of conform Ahh!, Tea
Been too long slipping on and spilt ma Qi

I'm tired of
The warnings the warming the tide turning the swarming
Killer bees  Wu is me
for I've been sipping on Boo Blue Tea

III
I lost my voice yet still voting
while Hippy flippies are still steady chat hosting
I'm Roasting poli-sci-fi-ers who can't find a town square
but got bags of opinions on world politics here and there
face-booking without a book in their face
fighting freedom by being dumb ignoring the truth such a disgrace
soldiers fighting harder at home to make it a home
feeling lost and alone their kids barely even grown
ready to start living
thought he was done with the killing
till he saw a villain on his throne life lost all appealing
come to find out that his wife had done gone
so settled on hanging strange fruit to shadow shalom
While
I'm so far out of the zone
that I get these messages on my cellular phone
Reality Strike terror Domes unsafe at home Wu is me
I'm miles away sipping on Too Long Tea

II
Yet homeless happy people without thrive ability
party pushers posting pictures with such jive hostility
acting out with rational it's like sporting politically
Obama's on my starting team with poll pushing agility
I Got two Clintons on my backup fantasy league
don't watch local games or who's selling off senate seats
not all are frozen but most have chosen illiterately
on the block taking tokens steady smokin and broke and  
no matter for realities that are steadily approaching
call me young in notion but I can't stand for lack of motion
late nights to early mornings I'm writing in search of potion
like Juliet rests in pieces I see the gauntlets broken
YOU can't save the planet **** IT so Janet pass on posting
Nothin new under sun we **** for fun and Whales **** in the ocean
as if Ape won't **** Ape Mother Earth will keep her motion
Wu is Me now I see I've been
Sipping on Too Wrongs Lefty

I
I hope you know I care
but start by loving your neighbor there and their and they're
reciprocate the truth and stand aloof of those who dare
put money before truth
visage before root
facsimile before proof
save the sympathy for devils
or get the **** out my booth

Check the numbers
Global hunger
riches blundered
voice down under
jobless convicts
bodies ditch in
Wars we pitched in

I'm talking about true world vision

social image
tweeting pigeons
Madolf mongrels
hate crime heroes
Welfare wealthy
advertising gimmicks
famous like ***** limericks
IMF, what a concept
acceptable debit?
nuclear threats
hating one another for what we choose to worship!?
It's already on our doorstep...
... yet we get hung up on the stu pet
"Ooh! Ahh!" "Green" Part Tea Bullshat!
Clinging to our jobs not because we like what we do
but we feel we have too!
Some parts of the world unite for things
other than Death and Dollars Popularity and Power!
... now look at US!
I'm just A fish on a diet of Super fishy all lit Tea

0
Ultimately if you voted Thank you for joining the Conversation; if not, Thanks a Lot! I hope your shadow enjoys watching this implosion slowly consume everything and everyone around you while you hold up the wall where your eternal shadow will remind future generations that, ("You gotta have an opinion" - Vincent Vega).
Asha Nicole Jun 2012
Ginger twine wrapped tightly round his finger.
A slight smile across his even tighter lips.
Wound around his liquid thoughts
His twiney figers grasp the drinking glass
filled to the brim with sweet, sweet ice tea
Its rich brown shade mocking the color of the sky

It is here, in this place, where lemon lovers meet
You easily pinpoint the kind of souls they carry,
Simply by the shade of their sweet iced tea
And they carry that ginger twine, tightly wound
They carry that coil everywhere they go

Many ask if it is a symbol, or subliminally literal?
A invitation, or a silent and quiet warning?
But its just that ginger twine and sweet ice tea
I too, carry them everywhere with me
Golden in the sun, red in the mid-light
Circular and quite rough with deep rouge ridges
they're placebos of purpose simply right, simply true

If you wish to comprehend,shutdown all distraction
Then you will be here now and here you will stay
Humbly accept your ginger twine and ice tea
for that, my friend, is exactly happened to be me
and the way every sip slides down my thought
It tastes of determination, solitude, and hope
Oh how I love that ginger twine and sweet ice tea

Ginger twine wrapped tightly round her finger.
A slight smile across her even tighter lips.
Wound around her liquid thoughts
Her twiney figers grasp the drinking glass
filled to the brim with sweet, sweet ice tea
her rich brown shade mocking the color of the sky


Ginger Twine and Sweet Ice Tea
Wrapped tightly around me

— The End —