Best Teacups Poems
Jump inside your story books
come make a lifetime of memories
Wishes and dreams
It's much more than it seems
Skip down Main street
in the shadows of the Magic Castle
Smiles and twinkles in those little eyes
give them and yourself a surprise
Wake up with Sleeping Beauty
Soar high atop a flying Dumbo
Spin with Alice in her teacups
Come see all your heroes close up
Dress as your favorite princess
Walk hand in hand with your favorite character
Let your inner child come through
Make all their dreams come true
Jump inside your story books
Come make a lifetime of memories
Wishes and dreams
It's much more than it seems
Not For Contest
Categories:
teacups, adventure, children, fun,
Form:
Lyric
She followed a rabbit
stitched from stardust,
leaping between planets
like lily pads of light.
A comet brushed her cheek
a whisper,
a secret,
a scent of home long gone.
Her dress,
woven from constellations,
twirled in zero gravity,
threads unraveling into galaxies.
The wormhole found her.
Not a door,
but a pulse,
a soft tear in the silence. She stepped in.
Light bent like memory.
Time folded into origami.
She became
a thought,
a chord,
a gasp inside the cosmos.
When she landed,
a planet blinked.
Rings spun like teacups.
A queen in a glass crown said:
“Wonderland was never down.
It was always above.”
And Alice
floating,
smiling,
rewrote the stars
with her finger.
Categories:
teacups, creation, mystery, space,
Form:
Free verse
Death belies the darkness summoned,
tombstone-colored is the sky,
shards of memories merely fragments,
wailing wind the sole reply.
Violent storm winds strip the tree limbs
like a poltergeist, unseen,
tawdry feeders, heavy wind chimes,
beat against the window screens.
Waiting for the glass to shatter,
like so many childhood dreams,
china teacups, rosebud patterned
in the dustpan, unredeemed.
© 2009 Danielle White
Categories:
teacups, allegory, childhood, death, nature
Form:
Rhyme
A Simple Story
Little child finds upon a heap of rubbish
Favored threadbare rabbit of tawny velveteen
One eye missing
Cloth rubbed to shiny by little hands.
Beloved bunny,
Shopworn keepsake from babyhood,
Languishing in forgotten jungles of junk,
Broken teacups and outgrown sweaters.
Heartbroken child, with faithful love,
Cradles one last time this life companion
To kiss goodbye this forever friend
In a eulogy of tears and turns to leave.
Love works miracles
From the rubbish arises a living bunny
Bulging stuffing and missing eye repaired
Now hugged again in arms of delight.
Golden bunny of dappled coat
Lives in colorful clusters of carrots
Straight radish rows and leafy greens
Planted by the small child’s hands that
Remember…
3-21-23
Contest: A Simple Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Based on the children’s book – The Velveteen Rabbit
Categories:
teacups, animal, childhood, life, love,
Form:
Free verse
Tremble at this door child but do not come in yelled the Quent
she an ogress at the end of her wits wearing muslin and flint
was only looking for a King who could love her as she was
When the angry boombox voice gave her quivering she went
away, hunching her shoulders she glided away her ogre scent
A little latch opened a flash of blue a slant of eye then he re spoke
"do you clean Kingdoms and can you cook, for a jaunty bloke?"
"oh for the love of God" she cried, I got teacups bigger than this place
yes I can wipe your palace, dust your crocket, just don't look at my face
and so he let her into the Kingdom of JUA, and so began their chase
A little fairy magic in the soup was all he needed as he ate in one gulp
contented as a Mishka, he cried out, " my your skin is soft as pulp! "
From an Ogress to a Tigress, down she went like a pile of timber
while he headlong without haste planted a kiss so soft and limber
that it opened her heart, henceforth they lived happily ever after .
The End.
December 24, 2020
Categories:
teacups, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
scattered pieces of pretty teacups -
floral, dotted, antiques.
they’re broken, like jars of clay,
and the beauties are you and me.
we find ourselves, abused and ugly,
but God’s already set the table.
we see ourselves through a dark mirror,
but when the light hits us, full on,
in our wardrobe, white -
what designs, colors and accents
shall be revealed. relish
the thought. take
a look at your perfect form
through the eyes of God
8/15/2022
Categories:
teacups, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
I long for the faces of those that I love
the laughter the hugs of beautiful kids
Victorian teacups, & lacey white gloves
an epicure diner, beneath bubbling lids
I hope for a feast with a good ending year
less tears more smiles, in all that I hold dear
May the good Lord fasten and note my request
then offer up blessings to Mothers of best
On this special day may all Mothers be told
love is a flower that blooms with May showers
Mothers are worth more then silver and gold
when it comes to love they hold all the power
Its Mothers Day so let her know you love her
not for a day, not for a month, but forever...
Categories:
teacups, appreciation, mother,
Form:
Sonnet
I heard them in the news today counting
Down the hours
That ignore in sterile rooms
The fresh outpouring of flowers
On the eyes, like songs
From trees laddling
Into pots of fragrant
Desire.
Do think that God must wait
Upon their measurement
Of time
Into old teacups and calendars
So small
A trout would lose
Its life in it?
When spring was at their gate
I already had her
In bed all night
A hundred hours ago
When you saw
The flowers
Brush aside the snow
And burst
Into the arms
Of old lovers.
Let there be
No weather forecast
For my love
But let it ever rush
Upon me
Like the surprise
Of morning
Water on the skin
Full with the pranks
Of spring.
Categories:
teacups, natureold, old,
Form:
Free verse
MysticMisfits™ Staff Directory
Staff Spotlight:The WanderPoet
Position: Ephemeral Verse Consultant
Clock-in Time: Unknown
Clock-out Time: Immediately After You Notice Him
You won’t see him arrive.
You might catch a glimpse--
a flicker of velvet,
a whisper that sounds like unfinished poetry.
He drifts between aisles,
scribbling stanzas on the backs of receipts,
leaving notes folded in teacups,
and misquoting love spells near the lip balm display.
He never applied for the job.
He just appears
right before a storm,
drops a single verse,
and vanishes before the ink dries.
We tried giving him a name tag once.
It wrote itself into a sonnet
and dissolved in moonlight.
Check back often. New employees arrive whenever the veil thins… or HR sneezes.
Categories:
teacups, funny, humor, humorous, parody,
Form:
Free verse
MysticMisfits™ Return Policy
(Cursed Edition)
--for when you regret your haunted impulse buys but the universe has other plans.
Please read carefully. Some conditions may apply to your soul.
1. No Refunds, Ever.
You bought it. It’s yours.
Even if it blinks at night.
Even if it follows you home.
Even if it whispers things you really don’t want to hear.
2. Exchanges Must Be Approved by a Sentient Mirror
To initiate a swap, present your item to the mirror in Aisle 7.
If your reflection nods and steps out of frame,
you may proceed.
If it sighs or bleeds, exchange denied.
3. Store Credit May Be Issued
…but only in dreams,
and only in the form of cryptic symbols
you’ll spend the next three lifetimes deciphering.
4. No Returns on the Following Items:
Cursed Lip Balm (LipHex™)
BoneTone™ Music Boxes that have learned your name
Anything that hisses when touched
Items marked “Oops”
Teacups that show you your childhood regrets
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Open: Tuesdays, 3:33 AM to 3:34 AM
Closed: All other times, including holidays and emotional breakdowns.
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You may become part of the store inventory.
You may forget your own name, but remember ours.
You may not get what you wanted…
…but you will get what you deserved.
All sales final. Side effects include regret, possession, and occasional enlightenment.
More fine print coming soon... check back for policy updates and new questionable hires.
Thank you for shopping at MysticMisfits™.
We hope to see you again. Soon.
Categories:
teacups, funny, humor, humorous, parody,
Form:
Free verse
Tillie Lydston
1843 – 1905
I was forty six
When I first saw the hills.
Those most magical eastern hills of my home.
I loved Whittier as my mother
And it saddens me I can’t be there again.
I left behind family and friends in faraway Illinois
For those wondrously beautiful eastern hills,
Where my new friends set up homes and feasted
With many songs of worship to our Lord.
On Sundays we all sang loudly and earnestly
In the sun’s benevolent rays of the Friends Church.
Gathering all our voices together into one enormous crescendo,
We celebrated the presence of God.
My gift was music
And to God I offered up my singing voice in praise,
And this I did for 41 years.
During apple blossom time in ‘69
I married Samuel
And he stood by me
As I grew old, got fat and decided to leave Illinois.
When we reached here by train,
Me and Samuel set up the business on Greenleaf,
And made our home
Amidst the whispering cedars and pines on Pilgrim Way.
I bore two children in the upstairs bedroom,
Amidst the doilies and the teacups,
And I heard the voices of heaven
Reveal the truth of a thousand questions.
I died with my Bible
And my head propped on a pillow.
Here in Clark Cemetery
I feel no death,
Just continuing life.
Amidst the singing voices of the dead.
Categories:
teacups, absence, death, eulogy,
Form:
Epitaph
Whether in desert
Or in orchard
Ducking
Or flirting
Wearing a shirt
Or a mini skirt
You look really romantic
And a classic connoisseur too
As mildly
In a cinnamon glee
And so softly
Like the leaves of trees
Insert a little
In apple like comfort
Your mystic and metaphysical lips
An elegant ellipse
At the embroidered rim of a teacup
In a dim twilight
Or brimming sunlight
Lightly and smoothly
Into the awesome delicacy
Of Darjeeling tea
Custom-made for thee
As everyone knows
You are so choosy
Obviously you drink to your heart’s content
Leading to your alpine ascent
Into an augmented mood
Nude snow glistening in your contented attitude
Almost at Kanchenjunga
Exuding a radiance
In your animated countenance
The flavour you are so fond of
The way it makes more suave
Most likely
Makes you carry
Wherever you go
With your thoughts red white or yellow
Your favourite tea equipment
Those brilliant looking teacups
Buildups of excitement in the tongue
The obvious clouds in the lung
Tomorrow we will need those things
When we will be in the swings
Of clouds on the bank of unknown river
In the amber morning
Just chilling
You will prepare and serve us tea
In the blowing breeze
I am sure
We will no more sneeze
As tea-food pairing
I know
You will take grilled chicken also
What a delightful window
A waft of summer wind from the Baltic sea
A natural mystic
September 28, 2017
For the Contest: Image Me A Poem
Sponsored by Mystic Rose
Based on the first photo prompt
Categories:
teacups, adventure, appreciation, beauty, desire,
Form:
Free verse
She spurs me on
Like a violent wind.
She howls to me in the night
Like a siren.
Her light is red as blood.
My flesh is cold as steel.
Sweet dew is a nectar.
She gathers it with teacups,
Stirs it with a bent finger,
Tastes the life-blood of earth,
Singing silently in her mind.
There is no need for sound.
She reads to me patiently
As to a child.
I listen, and interrupt.
Her voice is as piercing
As a Bene Gesserit.
I tremble with violence.
Tomorrow we may dance together
In the steely dawn.
The shutters are down;
The gowns flow all red and black.
Surely some secret is at hand.
I make my bed by morning.
There is no sleeping there,
Only turning like a storm,
Kicking in the night,
Wanting to seize the force,
The everlasting.
The aperture is open
The glass is clear as day.
I revel in in it .
I soak and darken in my soul
Like a sunspot.
There is no need for singing.
Praise be to almighty Thor
Or whoever carries the club
And hangs a tooth about his neck.
They are one, those restless ones.
They are not meek, nor tidy.
Each day begins with them.
Secretly as a cloud,
Those forms appear,
They evaporate again.
Most useful is their image,
They do not irritate the skin
Or pulverize the mind.
Frankly, it is beyond the pale
What mortals fear and would revere.
Beating a drum might drive away
The awful dream
Or call in reinforcements,
Conjuring a pleading battle cry.
Categories:
teacups, adventure, metaphor, visionary,
Form:
Free verse
Ooooh. . .
Ooooh. . .
You know that I’d
Cry if you died
Don’t you see my love?
You just can’t hide
You can live your life
And I’ll find mine
But I will fight
For you to stay alive
Forever together
Forever together
Through good and bad weather
Forever together
You’re stuck with me
Trust me, we’re meant to be
Your heart is cold
But mine is fierce and bold
If you think I’m givin’ up
You better think again
We’re riding those teacups
Over here in Disneyland
Forever together (spinning, spinning)
Happily ever after (Spinning, spinning)
Through good and bad weather
Together forever
Forever together
And I know that you’re blind
To these childlike wonders
But I won’t leave you behind
To face alone the thunder
If you don’t hang on now
This life is gonna eat you
The hare is gonna beat you
This hatter’s gonna cheat you
This hatter’s gonna cheat you
Ooooh. . .
Forever together (spinning, spinning)
Happily ever after (Spinning, spinning)
Forever together
Forever together
Forever together (spinning, spinning)
Happily ever after (Spinning, spinning)
Through good and bad weather
Forever together
Forever together
You’ll get better
So never say never!
*This random song was part of a project on making a bad song. It was fun to write and play! ^__^
Categories:
teacups, change, character, confidence, courage,
Form:
Lyric
Good Christmases never come with chipped teacups.
Good Christmases don't kick,
bite,
suck,
tease,
wheeze,
pain,
complain,
but pack woolies for chilly bodies, familiar carols tickle hearts.
Good Christmases present gifts under a tree, lit and tinseled and capped.
~
Better Christmases have prized porcelain.
Better Christmases are toasted by chalices porting posh pink wines.
Better Christmases, jumbo stockings fill so carelessly, each could be a single Santa sack.
~
Best Christmases require us two for steaming chocolate.
Best Christmases outlast seasonal cadences - when Spring fires back and snows arrest, you and I’ll be swaying in Summer, fiddling leaves around Fall.
Best Christmases, we share like flirty diplomats talking in turns,
between laughter,
through gazes;
in narrow words,
immense phrases,
sincerely hopeful,
all together.
Categories:
teacups, christmas, life, romantic,
Form:
Free verse