Best Not My Cup Of Tea Poems
There is no power greater than the Lord's, but there is a powerful lesson to be learned by not stumbling off on a fool's errand. That idiom is a phrase that explains the undertaking of a futile effort to find or prove something that is an impossible task. Thus, the effort becomes a waste of time and a fool's game to play. It is doomed to succeed from the start, even if the journey taken is by one with a good heart. The goal will never be reached when shrewd ones preach one thing and hand out rose-colored glasses to disguise words they speak but never practice. They tickle the ears of all who will listen, but the truth is what the naive ones will never hear. The real fool's errand is trying to unveil the fools who in spite of all efforts to conceal it, reveal themselves when the truth will out.
it's a waste of time
to go on a fool's errand~
fruitless endeavor
The phrase itself implies that it would be an unproductive effort and a lesson in futility such as Sisyphus rolling a boulder uphill only to watch it roll back down again. So, don't allow yourself to be disappointed, nor disjointed when the foolhardy in the world ..."don't know how to get along, yet, they pretend they've done nothing wrong."* It would be much wiser to avoid engaging with those who are always caught up in the throes of what they haughtily impose upon unsuspecting others. Excuse these added idioms, but they will help make the point about not getting a nose out of joint thinking a fool's errand is 'not my cup of tea.' Or, I'd rather 'call it a day' then chase a fool whose life has gone astray. Don't 'shoot yourself in the foot' by being a fool on an errand that will only prove to be 'a wild goose chase.'
in a world of fools
don't be duped to prove them wrong~
prove yourself wiser
* Sandra Feldman in her poem: 'Foolish World'
Never really quite understood,
so mind boggling it's just no good,
Albert Einstein's Theory of Relativity.
E=mc2 he defined as Energy
equals Mass times twice Velocity -
but what's that to a poor wage earner like me?
Armstrong got to the moon thanks to this theory,
I don't believe it at all, it's plain trickery,
surely he was just fooling everybody.
Newton's Law of Gravity I can well understand -
you fall from a tree, you're dead and you're done;
but a hocus-pocus thing like Relativity, no way!
This Einsteinian mind game's not my cup of tea,
it's so ridiculous it could never ever be,
it just won't cut it for me.
Had ole Albert simply said that apple is purple,
orange is not a color and melon is no lemon,
life would be easier for this rotten simpleton.
Ah, might as well just stick to prose and poetry,
won't cause trouble to my mind and body,
not to mention my sanity!
Some guys are cut out for retirement
That certainly doesn't apply to me
If I had my druthers, I'd still be working
This is surely not my cup of tea
Used to be such an active fellow
Was hard at work twenty-four seven
Up until virtually all hours of the night
Now I'm lucky if I make it past eleven
This poetry site is my saving grace
Without it I'd surely go berserk
Well maybe that's overstating my case
But you get it, I thrive on work
Perhaps there's a big surprise in store
I'll inherit a million big ones
From a distant long lost cousin of mine
Might be getting too much sun!
© Jack Ellison 2013
I think she is treated as more special.
She is a fellow female employee.
My Jealousy, I do not want to see.
An unbecoming feeling;
I hope, it is not revealing.
Next, I start to feel resentment.
Another emotion causing lack of contentment.
Add my belief that that jealousy is not my cup of tea.
What does all this say about me?
From one problem, potentially two or three!
I'm sorry I don't like coffee
It's just not my cup of tea
Final exams are fast approaching,
tension levels raising and raising...
Confidence level going down,
students working till night from the dawn..
Maths is difficult yet interesting,
physics completed still worrying,
chemistry not my cup of tea,
completed a drop and have to read a sea...
Final exams are fast approaching,
students all over learning and learning...
But my dear friends,
exams are not everything,
still lots of chances are waiting..
Life is all about getting and losing,
never compromise on challenges and keep hoping...
Keep calm and work smart this is life's only art,
enjoy the present,learn from the past,
and future will be as joyful as a fruit tart...
Sometimes some lost and lonely housewife I know well and knew put glossy
lip stick on and subtle pastel shade mascara plucked his brows and shaved
the pits of desperation the dust and grime the secretive desire longing
He cleaned the oven layered peeled the onion emerged in mouth watering
cheese cakes mixed the sweet and sour chilly icing with fresh fromage
fermenting homage to a new beginning of transition from the desperation
Not my cup of tea the make up with tattoos the belly ring and
hairy monsters on his pectoral and deltoid muscles but the pastry
pasted shaken not so pious pies tasted passionate the scent of musky
mushroom vanilla cinnamon the whole cliché of home made cooking
steaks for power sweet desert aphrodisiac temptations for the palate
palace coup palladium palliating plights of unforeseen façade and masquerade
Defeating gender stereotypes and prejudice his wife left broom cuisine
and cruising hoovers steely wool to his resolve and elbow grease but the
good partner who she was helped with the dishes when the dishy romance
ceased to be when both of them were desperate shattered broken devastated
wives and house mates
Their Pandora’s box the can of wriggly worms once opened left his bosom swell
his skin and features soften the pheromones transform their scent aroma
tone and meter of their conversation pitched up once the vocal chords strung higher
and he cut the naval chord which boxed him for so long in a body of a stranger
My friend and desperate house wife Paul is Paula now and she lives with her girl
another gender convert and is not incarcerated not desperate any longer she is free
Her ex-wife Ruby lives with Rosa now transcending yet another artificial boundary in rapturous coming of time and liberation and I love them dearly just the same
19th June 2016
Written for contest: Desperate Housewife
Sponsor Poet Destroyer A
Cozy On The Universe
In the middle of the room, in the middle of a thought
In the middle of the mind, in the afternoon, in kitchen
The universe intruded through the walls
Without knocking it simply imposed itself
No respect for doors or protocols
The moment came with calm
No particular reason comes to mind, why
Time and space and matter, have a warm spot in my heart
Have always been my home away from home
I took a moment to let the giant in
With all its molecules in place
But only for a moment
Then asked it to go away, since
It was tea time
The universe will always be there out in space
But not my cup of tea
No need to drink it rapidly
It too has a warm spot in my heart
As welcomed company
My hair is mostly white with streaks of black here and there
My white hair marks me as “aged” --- is that fair?
I don’t think or feel old (to which my body keeps disagreeing)
Just let me be who and what I am without age interfering
My opinions derive from education and experience
Each and all have been my deliverance:
Reading, listening, arguing, questioning,
Curiosity, studying, rejecting and accepting.
At 78 my brain functions minus dementia or senility
And if truth be told Men don’t have a monopoly
On Life’s options due to their relentlessly reiterated virility
Womanhood has Booked her place throughout the Ages
Profoundly and sometimes better than Manhood’s Pages
(Yet I’m thankful for Men being close-by anyway!
They’re the music, poetry, and humor in Life’s abundant Plays
So Diverse, yet hoarded and cherished as Life’s Bouquets).
All this irrelevant musing won’t get me anywhere
Let’s not digress but readdress the dilemma of my white hair
A naked cranium would be icy in cold winter weather
And if it won’t grow back going bald might not be vey clever
There is always dyeing, but only another temporary solution
Dye fades and white hair will reappear of its own volition
Yet I love a rich auburn, and the right blonde shade can flatter
Black is harsh, and Browns won’t suit so do not matter
Purples, greens, pinks or rainbow are not my cup of tea
Hair coloring options or choices I cannot dictate
Or expect others to like or dislike the same as me.
Dyeing my hair will habitually face budget restrictions
A loathed state of affairs that is an odious situation
Being poor demands tribute to that which is essential
Like mortgage, utilities, eating daily (oh, so beneficial!)
Thinking, looking back and reviewing bygone years
I recall highs, lows, regrets, laughter and shed tears
I’ve earned the right to show off this head of white hair
Without dyeing, lamenting, defending or worrying if it is fair.
Perhaps it is time at last to say “Thanks” for the generous gift
I was given to walk Life’s unique (at times) inhospitable Course
Having had my share of rewards, recognition, grief and remorse
I now salute my 78 years with Good Show! Hip, Hip! Here! Here!
Glad to Be and now at ease wearing that mantle of White Hair
That serves as my symbol to Endure, Survive and Persevere.
microcosm -- a storm in a teacup
12/ 25/ 2017.
POETS ARE POOR
Omawumi birthed venom yesterday
She won't marry me again because
I am a poet, she said poets are poor
Is my pen not worthy to buy her make up?
If poetry gives no money I will still be one.
When the arrow of folly is carved
Wisdom back off to the gallaxy of stars
Poetry can't be broken easily like sticks
Poets live beyond the rivers of warlords
Poverty is not in the secret of lexicon of poets.
Mother sent me out of the house
Because I told her I want to be a poet,
She cursed my generation to come
Then wrote a note to my future never
to favour me in my desperate journey.
When the eyes of stupidity is begotten,
When the mouth stand taller than the nose,
When the scent of a madman becomes pleasant,
Check the nose that picks the aroma well
Poets are the million airplanes in the sky.
"Poets are poor" my teacher screamed at me
"Can't you be a doctor or lawyer than a poet?
You will sing without song in your mouth soon,
There won't be bread on your table to eat
And you will measure yam before you eat it"
Let the perceptive of a saint be kept,
Musical artistes are not idols to worship
I can also be praised in my own corner
Please your eyes with your sinful thought
Poets are the lust in the eyes of the saints.
"How many houses do Wole Soyinka have?
How much does Chinua Achebe have?
You will just die and perish without worth,
Nothing but a bitter tears and sorrowful blood"
My sister barked at me this morning!
It is not my tale to tell of a house and money!
Not my business to know those in their covens
All fingers are not the same as all men are not
My tomorrow have been written favourably,
I only water it through the idea of the gods.
"Go get a life, poets are sick with words!
Poets are poor! Poetry is no treasure to keep
Go and join Ekene in his business at Onitsha
That would keep bread on your table not poetry"
Father buttered my ears last breeding night.
What is my business with business
Poetry will keep food on my table soon
Poor poets are not my cup of tea to drink
Everyone have a different mindset and vision
Soon, poetry will be commercialized and we earn
Much more than Dangote and Mike Adenuga.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
You completed me before in the past; however, now, you h-
hurt me…you hurt me emotionally and emotional pain hurts the most
(You lost the affection we shared that I adored – oh Lord of accord – she
fooled me…spread butter to my toast & let me swim coast to coast)
Show me God’s glow and please be humble – don’t boast…spread butter to the
toast…I wish you and I could have a cup of tea and buttered toast
I’m in your shoes; now, let me grow
I won’t let this disdainful pain show
This shame bestows woe upon my soul
My heart is scorching like coal
My heart is beating like the drums in the night
I know why I feel depressed – everything’s black and white
CHORUS:
I will squander my time now and forever
(Are you an evil, fallen angel?)
Until I meet you eye to eye again
Our departure came to soon…our future’s a blur
(sarcasm: Oh you must be a sweet, beautiful angel –)
Come on & get out of the lion’s den!
Release me…I need to let go…
Believe in me…reflect on me…
Release me…let me go with the flow
Let me grow and see…the light at the end of the tunnel
There’s other fish in the sea…
Hmm, torn apart by your heartless departure so true
You didn’t even say anything to me…you’re not my cup of tea
I was bright with you alright, holding hands with you
Before you left me out of the b-blue – you see?
I denied Him for a long, long time…where are you since you got out of the lion’s
den?
Goodbye, my once precious friend!
Friend! (now, you’re a foe…I am lost & found)
Release me from the woeful waters, drowning me with pity time & time again…
time & time again
I guess love is the end…the end.
End. (you let me go & I am…gravity-bound)
CHORUS:
I will squander my time now and forever
(Are you an evil, fallen angel?)
Until I meet you eye to eye again
Our departure came to soon…our future’s a blur
(sarcasm: Oh you must be a sweet, beautiful angel –)
Come on & get out of the lion’s den!
Release me…I need to let go…
Believe in me…reflect on me…
Release me…let me go with the flow
Let me grow and see…the light at the end of the tunnel
There IS other fish in the sea…
Calling to the world from within my four walls
Is not my cup of tea
Maybe beer.
The humming birds die due to cellphone frequencies
I have decided to quit talking
Scavenging on littered words
Had never been my kwan
The truce of dexterity
Had been dipped into the labyrinth of blood, love and despair
My mind is treading on the cloud of nothingness
I seek for the time portal
Squatted down to have a better look at the world
From within the four walls.
I lay back on my once-fluffy pillow
Dream the memories
The cranking of the door is defeaning
Soundproof, I had lived
Mute is good,
Afterall, what is more important for the tongue..
To talk?
To taste?
To kiss....?
The long hours like a deathly hallow
Purge my soul
Like the Devil's dandelion
I flutter in the still, stale air
As, I wait
From within my four walls.
Last Meet
In evening I reached
the glass house in my garden
and glanced on shrubs.
Nice lovely lilacs
purple, lavender, white flowers
seemed useless and dull.
Evening bade good bye.
My glass house turned pitch black dark.
I waited for you.
You came with candle.
Darkness was torn in silence.
But our love was dark
Dim flame was trembling.
Our shadows were dancing
on gloomy glass wall.
Two silent strangers
might recollect memories
that had lost all charms.
We liked each other.
You were not my cup of tea.
Better to break up
We looked face to face.
Our last meet counted seconds.
We spent night speechless.
12/19/15
If they like let petrol be one
thousand naira at the station,
It is not my business not at all
I will still have my tea taken
Every morning with Agege bread.
If they like let them find not
The hungry budget paper,
It is not my business not at all
I will still have my tea taken
Every morning with Agege bread.
If they like let them create million
Jobs in the inland and the mainland,
It is not my business not at all brother
As far as they did not take my cup of tea
I will still live and drink with Agege bread.
If they like let them feed school children
One square meal per day in their hungry
State, sister, it is not my business to know
I will still have my cup of tea sweet as breast milk
Every morning with Agege bread to water down.
If they like let them fight over the country,
Let them embezzle all the money here leaving
The poor with nothing to write home about,
It is not my business anyway with them
I will still have my beautiful tea taken daily.
If they like let PMB travel all over the world
It is not my business with them at all here,
I will still make my tea in a brownish colour
As far as my cup of tea is not taken from me
I will be as happy as the puppy in my world.
If they like let them find the Chibok
girls in Sabimsa forest with Children,
it is not my business to know at all
I will still have my cup of tea taken
Every morning with Agege bread.
If they like let them repair the roads,
If they like let them bring light to us,
If they like let them stock all the money
Abroad, It is not my business to question them
I will still have my cup of tea taken daily.
I will only react when my cup is taken;
When my cup is taken from my mouth.
So long they don't take my cup of tea
From my savouring hungry mouth, I will
be fine, let madness rule and ruine them all fool.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016