there are very blurred lines between
what is coincidence and what is augury
omen, or fore-token
for in my dreams and meditation
I have been confronted with regret and shame
sorrow, and grief about my life thus far
my past is full of
condemnation and self-reproach
humiliation, self-punishment and tears
sending me on a journey of soul-searching
oh, I went for a palm-reading
for crystal gazing, for tea-leaf reading
and tarot reading with no real results
in my meditation I am looking for a sign
some signal or manifestation
some evidence of an omen
but can find none
so, I have concluded that my life
as it is
with its experiences is the same as
everyone more or less
the pilot arrives
When the world was big, and my ship left Trinidad just
as the sun set over the blue Caribbean and women, at the dockside waved goodbye forever, or perhaps not, if the ship returned with the same crew.
The Panama Canal was efficient and American, all business
The Pacific Ocean, the ship was a tea leaf in a giant's
saucer any minute now we would disappear and become a mystery at sea, written about in seafarers magazine.
Indian Ocean, finding a small island long before Apollo
made the world into a smaller planet
The moon is a balloon, as David Niven wrote.
The world has shrunk, it is indeed a tiny place a dot in the galaxy hard to see yet we go on fighting about religion and silly political views, and the beauty of what could have been is lost in a blur of hatred
What is she making? Someone asks, wondering aloud.
She is a pretty girl, friendly, but not overly loud.
It looks like something red, someone replies. Maybe berries?
There is a little bit of tittering from the tea leaf faeries.
She is making eyeball tea, they begin to sing in rhyme.
It is lemon like, so fruity, we drink it all the time!
The elves are horrified, for they are a tiny bit prissy.
Come have some I say to my best friend and my sissy.
Eyeball tea! You are kidding! My sister says. Right?
Come and taste it, I tell her. It is simply out of sight.
Once you have it you will not want to drink anything else ever.
I see the elves and gnomes sitting back. One gives a shiver.
Cheerio old chap!
O’ mighty Prometheus
Invited to this a tea party
Alas this ole social gathering
Frankenstein and his closest friends
There on the table
A vast variety of wolf cakes
Games to partake of
A tea cup treasure hunt
Tea leaf Pictionary
Sugar cube stack Pinko
Blood dripping on the floor?
Selected ate at the time invitations set
Planned menu brew and serve
English men tarts
Raw cut up hearts
In attendance at Frankenstein Tea Party
Shared cups of tea with light refreshments
Frankenstein Monster and his friend
Dracula and Mina Harken
Werewolf Peter Stuble
While at the table rotting
Dead host of days past
Drink up- Drink up
Those cottages protectors
Planned tea party gathering
Conversations of death, dark and demonic tales
Oh! Did I mention also in attendance Frankenstein wife
Eva
Holing werewolf
Cries pass the wolf bread
What a unholy gathering drinking tea (and blood) and the rest of the party dead
*5th place Placement in Contest*
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
8/26/21 2021©
Frankenstein Tea Party 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
Over a spooning cup of long dead coffee,
which; isn’t cutting it anymore, I look across the bay,
under the wings of a seabird, and imagine all
count-less names, over the years, written in shore sand,
scrubbed clean by each days, tumbling relentless tide.
There is pink noise swimming in the salted air;
mixed with white noise, hanging in the chill wind!
Together its hypnotic sound, is the morning song of the sea;
as the cooling sun slips into, the horizons crimson pocket,
as it floats far and away, in the centuries of distance.
Then! In an opposing pose of defiance; at a later hour,
the pale part moon looks onto another shore.
The hours have dissolved, like the sugar in my many cups.
And all that’s left are many jumbled words and ideas,
but no tea leaf told future, in this espresso moment !
I don't exactly know the how or why
I can't even explain it
But i have or was given a gift
I am a fortune teller / medium
I can read card's
Decipher tea leaves
Predict and tell the future
And converse with the dead
Wow can you talk to god as well ?
Or are you in fact rather a fraudulent snake oil griffter
con-artist
Who scrapes a living off the insecurities
and vulnerabilities of the longing and loss of the distraught
Because otherwise you would know what
lies ahead of you in your future
And if as the saying goes payback and karma is
a son of a dog
Then may i suggest you take an eternity
of treats with you for the journey because
you are bound for a long old stretch in the
dog house fed on a diet of humble pie
Echoes of the woman's tea-leaf warnings
bounce in my head...
I stare at the spilled apple sauce
all over my bed...
I watch the flickering TV in the convalescent home...
My pharmacy number is in my phone...
I dream in German but can't utter a word...
My memories blurred... My speech slurred...
Remember when we were blissful and unwed?
Why did you leave? Was it something I said?
My mind is not what it used to be...
I'm a rotting shell of stupidity...
She spent her life doing just the one thing,
One thing that people payed for,
The one thing nobody else could do…
They’d pay to watch her perform,
She’d tell them their future with a little tea leaf,
She’d read the lines on their hand,
Or she’d spread the cards from an old tarot deck,
Revealing what the cards understand,
And sometimes the news was full of good fortune,
Sometimes it was filled in with dread,
Sometimes the numbers were a little abstruse,
And folks had to decode what was said.
Either way, she made a fortune, from telling a fortune,
For people who’d always confide,
And tell them the things they needed to hear,
To help clear and freshen their minds.
One More Cuppa Tea
to the unknowing
the cup is empty,
slightly stained,
laced with miniscule
cracks. It has a glossy
sheen., polished
by life’s luster,
buffed and buffeted
by its burdens,
distilling Orange Pekoe
fortunes, reflecting
the passage of time
in the eyes of
the tea leaf readers.
she sits, this cup,
this reservoir
of moments,
symbol of
a simpler time,
the balm of a warm cup
in loving hands
shared across a table,
across a generation,
across the great divide
of age.
Oh, to see it full again,
feel its amber warmth,
inhale its steaming secrets,
nuzzle each endless moment.
Share
one more
“cuppa tea”.
©12/20/2017
submitted to – Best free verse poem October-December 2017 – Poetry Contest
Cool Moe B
Back in the day we used to pray
Others say it ought not be that way
Snake pit, lion's den you need someone to be your friend
Your a soldier in the army of God
Cool Moe B in the place to be
Rocking them rhymes in the land of glee
A city kid playing high on his grid
Shook the bananas pole with a tea leaf
Downtown hoods shooting dope in the back alley
Fixing with the switch homeboy got a nervous twitch
A beacon of honor in his high vested swag
Shooting pool in the patio needing a place to go
Smoking weed watch it bleed it will knock you to your knees
Brillo pads for fenders is it any wonder
The soldier in the middle playing second fiddle
Take me back to those good old days getting lost in a purple haze
Hoops dreams watch the bitches scream
Another dip of an ice cream flavor
A stereo or capper me and Eric B with a nice full plate of fish
Sorry that I missed burning this switch as we go free style
I have a cup full of tea leaves
that my story, it is suppose to
hold.
I don't know if I believe this
but the cup is lovely enough
I should at least listen as it is
told.
Gripped tightly the handle was
as it was spun around.
Stopping on a drip as the tea
leaves settle without ever the
slightest sound.
Lovely scent of tea is in the air
and even though the aroma is
sweet. I am wondering what is
written in there.
A heavy question stayed in tow.
Should I stay? or Should I go?
zen swirled, tea leaf clouds
wisps of chi on autumn’s breath…
scent of sunflower
**31 Jan 2016**
Mid morning in the now leafy white poplar, tall and symmetrical,
four flashing light and dark magnificent magpies tea leaf, steal the
mannerisms of tinier wagtails by moving their tails up and down dancing
around from branch to branch leading following each other and chattering
away as though they have nothing else to do all day, for on this lovely day
their instincts start to do what all other young adult creatures do in Spring.
I Like The 'Black Tea, The White Tea
and The English Breakfast & Earl Grey'
and I Serve 'Rooibos' and 'Ginger' Teas
In My Silver Pot, Cups & Tray
I Like The 'Rose Tea and Herbal Teas
& The Honey-Vanilla-Chamomile'
& 'Apple-Cinnamon' & 'Orange-Pekoe'
Topped With Sliced Lemon Wedge Frills
(& Balancing Cup & Saucer & Carrot Cake's A Skill)
I've Teas of 'Lavender & Hibiscus
& of Jasmine' Flavored Hints
I Pour These Liquid Petals
To Be My Pretty Porcelain's Contents
and That Brand of 'Ancient Tea Trees'
& of Ceylon's '1001 Nights'
Tantalizes My Tastebuds
With Their Dark Teabags Delights
And Exotic Ginseng Teas Blend Into
A Warm & Soothing, Brewed Bond
As A Free Tea Leaf Floats Like
A Lotus In A Cup Pond
Swirling A Cream or Sugar? Concoction
In A Teaspoon's Pool
Gently Lifted To Our Lips Breath
To Savor & Cool
Wafting Aromatic Scents
Thru My Parlor Among My Guests
Or Just Me In My Kitchen
As Day Begins Afresh
But The Tea Mixture Taste
of A Preference Best For Me
Is The Oolong, Added With Peppermint
and Pure Green Tea
aaaah ... slurp
Join me for a sip ... slurp
Written & Copyrighted ©: 9/18/2013
by: MoonBee Canady
Tea leaf powder brewed
Token stream of tea devolves
Cyclye of life flows
Reincarnated grains bind
Nouveau palates sift huskings
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