Tea and Poetry

Tea and Poetry Tuesday

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Today’s Tea Tidbit is a bit unusual. I want to share a new tea item that someone gave me as a gift. It’s a wonderful little plastic pot with a built-in loose leaf tea strainer. You can put up to 12 oz. of water in it with your loose leaf tea, then heat it in the microwave, then let it steep. When ready, you fit the pot over your tea cup or mug and the there’s a piece on the bottom that lifts when on the cup, and the tea pours down into your cup but doesn’t let any of the loose tea into the cup of tea. It’s a wonderfully easy way to make a cup of loose leaf tea.

Called Back
by Emily Dickinson

Just lost when I was saved!
Just felt the world go by!
Just girt me for the onset with eternity,
When breath blew back,
And on the other side
I heard recede the disappointed tide!

Therefore, as one returned, I feel,
Odd secrets of the line to tell!
Some sailor, skirting foreign shores,
Some pale reporter from the awful doors
Before the seal!

Next time, to stay!
Next time, the things to see
By ear unheard,
Unscrutinized by eye.

Next time, to tarry,
While the ages steal,–
Slow tramp the centuries,
And the cycles wheel.

Tea and Poetry Tuesday

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Today’s Tea Tidbit:

The daintiness and yet elegance of a china teacup focuses one to be gentle, to think warmly, and to feel close.
—Carol and Malcolm Cohen

 

Ode to Enchanted Light
by Pablo Neruda

Under the trees light
has dropped from the top of the sky,
light
like a green
latticework of branches,
shining
on every leaf,
drifting down like clean
white sand.

A cicada sends
its sawing song
high into the empty air.

The world is
a glass overflowing
with water.

translated by Ken Krabbenhoft

Tea and Poetry Tuesday

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Today’s Tea Tidbit:

I am sort of a tea addict. I structure my day by cups of tea.  —  S. T. Joshi

A Real Book
by Kelly F. Barr

Ah, the feel of a real book —
The smooth eye-catching cover,
The crisp or brittle pages.
The smell of new paper and fresh ink
Or yellowed paper scented with age
And maybe a bit of mustiness.
These are my treasures —
Each one taking me on a grand adventure
Or teaching me something new
Or introducing me to a new person or place;
They allow me to travel anytime, anywhere
To times past, present, or future;
To places near, far, or simply imagined.
The characters becoming friends —
My desire that the story never end.
My favorite most comfortable place
Is in a room surrounded by shelves of books;
A cozy place filled with stories I’ve read
Or have yet to explore.
No matter my age or social status,
As long as I have my real books
I’ll feel like a queen in her palace.

Tea and Poetry Tuesday

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Today’s Tea Tip:

Tea absorbs moisture. Be sure to store loose leaf tea bags in a tin or sealed jar.

Aspiration
by Emily Dickinson

We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies.

The heroism we recite
Would be a daily thing,
Did not ourselves the cubits warp
For fear to be a king.

Tea and Poetry Tuesday

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Today’s Tea Tidbit:

“The cup of tea on arrival at a country house is a thing which, as a rule, I particularly enjoy. I like the crackling logs, the shaded lights, the scent of buttered toast, the general atmosphere of leisured coziness.”

P. G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters

 

A Patch of Old Snow

by Robert Frost

There’s a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.

It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I’ve forgotten–
If I ever read it.

Tea and Poetry

/ kellyfbarr / 3 Comments

“My copper kettle whistles merrily
And signals that it is time for tea.
The fine china cups are filled with the brew,
There’s lemon and sugar and sweet cream, too.
But, best of all there’s friendship, between you and me.
As we lovingly share our afternoon tea.”

Marianna Arolin

 

The Storm of Misunderstanding
by Kelly F. Barr

Alone like an island in a stormy sea;
Your words, like waves, crash over me.
Strong winds howl in my ears
As your criticism prompts my tears.
Disapproving looks cause me to sway
As the waves drag the sand beneath my feet away.
Thunder rolls off your tongue.
At lightning’s flash, I turn and run
To my place of safety and of rest.
My island cave does not protest
When I light a fire to keep me warm;
But shelters me from your angry storm.

Tea and Poetry Tuesday

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This is what Sarah Engler has to say about Tea Time:

As the centerpiece of a cherished ritual, it’s a talisman against the chill of winter, a respite from the ho-hum routine of the day.

The Health-Food Diner
by Maya Angelou

No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,
(Today, I need a steak).

Not thick brown rice and rice pilaw
Or mushrooms creamed on toast,
Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed,
(I’m dreaming of a roast).

Health-food folks around the world
Are thinned by anxious zeal,
They look for help in seafood kelp
(I count on breaded veal).

No smoking signs, raw mustard greens,
Zucchini by the ton,
Uncooked kale and bodies frail
Are sure to make me run

to

Loins of pork and chicken thighs
And standing rib, so prime,
Pork chops brown and fresh ground round
(I crave them all the time).

Irish stews and boiled corned beef
and hot dogs by the scores,
or any place that saves a space
For smoking carnivores.

Tea and Poetry Tuesday

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Tea Tidbit:

Sherpa tea is frequently used to raise the internal body temperature and prevent hypothermia in mountain hikers. It’s common practice to make it in the same pot that the last meal was cooked in and before the pot is cleaned. This salvages food from the pot and adds flavor and nutrients to the tea.

 

But a tree has
a long suffering shapeIs
spread in half
by 2 limbed fate
Rises from gray rain
pavements
To traffic in the bleak
brown air
Of cities radar television
nameless dumb &numb mis connicumb
Throwing twigs the
color of ink To white souled
heaven, with
A reality of its own uses

 

Jack Kerouac

Tea and Poetry Tuesday

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Tea Tidbit:

[Tea Masters} have given emphasis to our natural love of simplicity, and shown us the beauty of humility. In fact, through their teachings tea has entered the life of the people.

Kakuzo Okakura

 

Image result for poems by rupi kaur

Tea and Poetry Tuesday

/ kellyfbarr / 2 Comments

“Tea, though ridiculed by those who are naturally course in their nervous sensibilities will always be the favorite beverage of the intellectual.”

Thomas de Quincy

 

Drum Dream Girl

On an island of music
in a city of drumbeats
the drum dream girl
dreamed
of pounding tall conga drums
tapping small bongó drums
and boom boom booming
with long, loud sticks
on bit, round, silvery
moon-bright timbales.
But everyone
on the island of music
in the city of drumbeats
believed that only boys
should play drums
so the drum dream girl
had to keep dreaming
quiet
secret
drumbeat
dreams.
At outdoor cafés that looked like gardens
she heard drums played by men
but when she closed her eyes
she could also hear
her own imaginary
music.
When she walked under
wind-wavy palm trees
in a flower-bright park
she heard the whir of parrot wings
the clack of woodpecker beaks
the dancing tap
of her own footsteps
and the comforting pat
of her own
heartbeat.
At carnivals, she listened
to the rattling beat
of towering
dancers
on stilts
and the dragon clang
of costumed drummers
wearing huge masks.
At home, her fingertips
rolled out their own
dreamy drum rhythm
on tables and chairs…
and even though everyone
kept reminding her that girls
on the island of music
have never played drums
the brave drum dream girl
dared to play
tall conga drums
small bongó drums
and big, round, silvery
moon-bright timbales.
Her hands seemed to fly
as they rippled
rapped
and pounded
all the rhythms
of her drum dreams.
Her big sisters were so excited
that they invited her to join
their new all-girl dance band
but their father said only boys
should play drums.
So the drum dream girl
had to keep dreaming
and drumming
alone
until finally
her father offered
to find a music teacher
who could decide if her drums
deserved
to be heard.
The drum dream girl’s
teacher was amazed.
The girl knew so much
but he taught her more
and more
and more
and she practiced
and she practiced
and she practiced
until the teacher agreed
that she was ready
to play her small bongó drums
outdoors at a starlit café
that looked like a garden
where everyone who heard
her dream-bright music
sang
and danced
and decided
that girls should always
be allowed to play
drums
and both girls and boys
should feel free
to dream.
Notes:
This poem was inspired by the childhood of a Chinese-African-Cuban girl who broke Cuba’s traditional taboo against female drummers. In 1932, at the age of ten, Millo Castro Zaldarriaga performed with her older sisters as Anacaona, Cuba’s first “all-girl dance band.” Millo became a world-famous musician, playing alongside all the American jazz greats of the era. At age fifteen, she played her bongó drums at a New York birthday celebration for U.S. president Franklin Delano Roosevelt, where she was enthusiastically cheered by First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt. There are now many female drummers in Cuba. Thanks to Millo’s courage, becoming a drummer is no longer an unattainable dream for girls on the island. [note from the author]

 

Margarita Engle, “Drum Dream Girl” from Drum Dream Girl.  Copyright © 2015 by Margarita Engle.