Best Teacup Poems
He brought it back from France
After the second world war
It just sits there on the shelf
She doesn't use it anymore
Covered in yellow flowers
From it's handle to its rim
White from top to bottom
With a gold metalic trim
She guards it with her life
Since her husband passed away
The beginning of an heirloom
She'll give her son someday
An ordinary teacup
Is what other people see
But to her it's so much more
It's her husband's memory
Cherished for a lifetime
It's given her years of pleasure
This ordinary teacup
Is truly her hidden treasure
Sitting on the shelf like a broken teacup
I go on despite these difficult moments
I run into myself with Irish green eyes and permanent tear stained cheeks
I've endured the immensity of agony
I’ve turned down all those so-called hot lovers sulking in this harsh yellow land
I wrestle with the ongoing struggles of this evil world
No…nobody can go backwards
You see, you and I were never meant to be
So...don't tell me your hurt is my fault
I’ve assessed these holes in my life-have you assessed yours?
It was a lifetime ago…forever gone in all that I was
In a curious way I’ve known the debris of myself ...
I’m more damaged than I care to admit
Here I am…pathetically sitting in the rubble of where my heart lives
A thin-skinned loner- a re-cycled me of who I used to be
I can't waver yet again, to take another chance at love
I've known too much time away from it all
So evident in the moment of my blinding conscience
Pondering the un-gentleness of things
That should have been beautiful...but were not
And so, I pick up the pieces of my broken soul
From a broken love that was never meant to be
I'm in for a new change of lifestyle - a new change of heart
A release of all those emotions that were tearing me down
The old life I knew, I threw away with the teacup
I got a new life, a new cup, and I'm forgetting you and the past
My grandmother's teacup
was a coffee mug
And the tea steeped inside it
was used to kill bugs
But grandma did sip
tough bird that she was
with no honey to sweeten the taste
She worked hard all day
and into the night
Then sat and sipped tea
by bee candlelight
I'd beg for a sip
but never could swallow
And out it would come
what a waste
My grandmother lived
'til a hundred and three
And with her last breath claimed
"it was the tea!"
So I sit and I sip
from the mug left to me
I add honey it sweetens the taste
Maggie
Silence does a reconnaissance around the room
betraying not my artillery of thoughts
that acknowledge the elephant in the room
so starts the ceremony that seeks to save soldiers
body language begins to breakdown barriers
as actions march in motion anticipating
the ritual of tea that takes centre stage
tactically open to observation and interrogation
all actions organised to be economically efficient
calibrated by the infra red eye of the guest
animosity surrenders respectfully and retreats
a ceasefire that allows peace to deploy and enter
steam captivates a tea cup holding it hostage
watching whilst water wages war on leaves
cajoling caressing domineering them to
release and surrender their secrets and serve
with military precision this tea sets in motion
a tour of duty washing away all detachment
reminding us to deploy civilized actions
that counter attack collateral damage
the tea ceremony symbolically strategises
and ambushes all thoughts of war away
quenching the thirst for covert operations
once again a creating coup d'etat in a cup
The broken teacup sits sadly on the garden table
Wearing tarnished stains and hardened sugar decorating
the sides
There's a bracken coloured moss that's resting at the bottom
Saddened by the wastefulness and ready for the bin
The half empty teacup sits regretfully on the bedside table
It wears a scarlet lipstick kiss that lays upon the lip
A hand print caresses the curved handle and the teaspoon
lays in the saucer
Saddened by the coldness and wishing it were full
The cup of tea sits proudly on the table
Full to brimming and letting off a fragrant steam
Luring with a hot temptation and a desire to be drunk
With soft white crystals that sweeten on the tongue
But saddened by the emptiness that surely comes
In a teacup's embrace, a tale we shall unfold,
Of two colorful frogs, with stories to behold.
One painted blue, the other a purple hue,
Their minds intertwined, in a world askew.
The blue frog whispered, "We're tea thieves, you see!
Stealing each drop, a wild heist to set free!"
His thoughts danced swiftly, like ripples in a pond,
Believing the teacup was where they abscond.
The purple frog hopped with a joyful smile,
"We're on vacation, an oasis in style!"
His mind painted dreams, a tranquil retreat,
Finding solace and peace in this teacup's heat.
They conversed with flair, the teacup their stage,
Voices mingled, a colorful dialogue engaged.
But as the tale progresses, a twist will be revealed,
For the frogs were figments, illusions concealed.
The veil of perception cast an intricate spell,
Conjuring the frogs, the stories they'd tell.
Yet in truth's gaze, the reality unfurls,
The teacup stands empty, devoid of their twirls.
For the frogs were imagined, born from the mind's eye,
Whispered by whispers, like a whimsical lullaby.
In the teacup's silence, the truth becomes clear,
Their existence ephemeral, vanishing near.
No mention of illness, no shadows of the mind,
Just a whimsical tale, with surprises intertwined.
The frogs never existed, their presence a guise,
A mirage, a fragment, like dreams in disguise.
So let us ponder this tale with open hearts,
Where teacup fantasies took their vibrant parts.
Imagination's realm, where perceptions may roam,
Creating tales and illusions, finding places to call home.
And as we sip our tea, in cups large and small,
Let's cherish the magic, the stories that enthrall.
For in the depths of imagination's gentle grasp,
We find hidden wonders, where reality may clasp.
teapots and teacups,
the aroma of coffee,
and the day's hustle.
FLOWERED TEACUP IN SPRING
My heart lies vacant
to vulnerability, voiding into
a warm womb
of larvic rebirth
October ruptures orange octagons
pregnant with pretensions for balmy bathings
cock proffered a fiery feather
to a gaping garden gate
Hot white descends metallic
blue a dappled dance darting penetrates
washing machine mumbles
garbage collectors grumble
Noon consummates to hasten tasks
tarrying towards an amber throated afternoon
flowered teacup stares
a knobbly knee-jerked knock
I crystal circle a cobalt coming containing
wizened eyes of warted beggar
into pink palms of a purpled
garmented galactic guide
Shame laced in my DNA spiral
wrinkled its parley presence
I omitted some rooibos teabags
just jackfruit jam with half a loaf of bread
Missed a moment of silent saluted seeking
though pass two score and ten
Still I cannot read a …
Flowered teacup in spring
©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Songwriting2023
Like a storm in a teacup, You turned nothing
into something blown up, from a small thing.
Everywhere's your ground to pick up a fight.
You should know war is not won by might
But by great strategy and clear planning
not just by being pretty and enchanting.
Stop just being a mere trouble maker.
Rather, try being an active parttaker
Who is ready for a positive change.
Even when done in ways strange.
Your real worth still no way lost.
Nothing much will be the cost,
Still, no day pass you don't doubt yourself.
Yet you've all it takes, there on your shelf.
Marital squabbles
A philandering husband
Divorce proceedings
Date written and posted: 07/12/2018
I found my little teacup I hold as a memory
My little new cup its going to be full of fresh cream with tea
A little biscuit maybe
A little sip I will take
So, pleasing as one can see
My little red tea cup
I’ve had for eight years
Such a delightful memory
I’ll relive again
A man all for function, not form,
Went to get done a nose-based norm,
The doc to his job rose
And fixed a doggy nose
That breathed full and felt nicely warm.
Yet, mad with his big mouth,
He cursed it and looked south,
In teacup was wasted his storm!
______________________
Tongue-in-cheek | 12.01.2016 | humour
Three kittens sitting in a teacup
On top of my dining room table
All squished together
Looking as innocent as can be
Their eyes are as blue as the ocean
And open as wide as can be
They're curious as can be
And very, very adventurous
It's such a sight to see kittens in a teacup used for drinking out of
They make me wonder what they'll be up too next
Three kittens sitting in a teacup
On top of my dining-room table
Acting very mischievous
Three kittens sitting in a teacup
On top of my dining-room table
Oh what a sight to see
TANTALIZING TEA.
THROAT THIRSTS FOR AUTONOMY.
TEARS, ETERNALLY.
1/14/2021
~3~
My late mother got it from a thrift shop 40 years ago -
a fine China teacup and saucer,
it might be worth something,
you never know with fine China teacups.
It could be an antique or just some cheap copy
of an actual fine China teacup.
There's only one cup and saucer
so, what the heck.
I've no idea why it either follows me
on my travels or waits until I settle somewhere
only to reappear -
a cogent yet trivial observation
about my late mother's tendency to prowl.
Amazingly, it's not been broken or cracked yet.
If I were the sort of person
who drank tea from a fine China teacup,
there would be a lot more to these musings,
but seeing as I'm not broken or cracked yet,
there ain't.