Mist feathery drifts
last night’s breath loosening
above basalt slopes of Huatung
Pacific swallows trace morning brushwork
over Fuli’s rice paddies
new green scented with rain.
Xiuguluan River flows jade mountain-born
among ancestral stones
white willows in Ruisui weep
dew-kissed
cycad fronds catching first sunlight
Leaf pearls gather on my thatched sandals
Walami earth holds stories in its coolness.
Bihe Pond rests hidden in Wanrong’s stillness
waters reflecting the tribe’s quiet prayers
Bamboo leaves in green and gold
crested mynas gather in quiet repose
wind moves with the chime of a temple bell.
Ancestral path wanders into the Central Range
oolong tea clouds drift
above Qilai’s blue ridges
A white egret lifts over Guangfu’s terraces
air clear as poured Longjing.
A bulbul calls
blue magpie glides
the slow unlayering of day
Huatung Calligrapher’s span warm to newborn light
time unspools—
bright
unmeasured.
Light widens
dawn follows Yu Shan’s shadowed valleys
the world in quiet promise
soft light
drifting into morning.
It's almost half past three
time to cosy up for tea
kettle's on the boil to brew
tea for two me and you
with egg and cress or
cucumber sandwiches
with nary a single crust
(they were all donated
to the National Trust)
it's after forty to four
shall I be Mother and pour
I know you know Pekoe
the table's set quite daintily
two for tea you and me
and we can sing my song
'Lapsang Souchong'
I LONG
YOU LONG
WE ALL LONG
FOR OOLONG
unless you're feeling more Darjeeling
orange-caramel color
steeps into the lotus mug
flower and the leaves
cherry like candy
lifts from the golden liquid
left hand round the waist, hold hands
with the handle, lip
pressed to the rim, intimate
serendipitous-savor
the flavor of rose
petals and hips, cinnamon
apple, almond and cherry
sipping oolong slow
over lips and tongue, twining
in chimera happiness
might open eyes to bonsai
"Earthquake in a Tea Cup"
the earthquake
rocked through
a pink haze
soft and powdered
scent of lit smoke
flaming fires
hot oven baked
green apples
ripe skin sizzled
and popped
ice cool cinnamon crisp
lemon peeled martinis
black russians and they're
ripped unfriendly cousins
Long Island Iced teas and
Asian Pear Chit-Cha toddies
osmanthus oolong trading
asset smiles flying under
the Roger Ramjet radar
exploded rapturously
candied petals floating
hearts marachinoed
stevia sweetened cherries
skewered and buttered up
mercilessly on the q.t.
roses burnt apricots
she arrived shimmering
in the clouds
a seduction
ruffling feathers
in their
crème de la crème
tea cups shaking
their quiet worlds up
dominoes lined straight laced,
drugged and shot
they all thought
it was the second
coming
the world
was her stage
the fall out
was atomic
their shadows
scattered
nuclear imprints
incalculable,
the numbers
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Written: June 14, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1223 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Floating like steam
from oolong tea, speaking
words that do delight. Your gown of
silk glides so effortlessly within my
visual sight. My arms like chopsticks
holding ~ ~ delicacies
appease ^ ^ my appetite.
Sweet '' yet hot
upon * * my
)
(
)
)
( (
tongue all
my senses
you ignite!
May I suggest trying a strong cup of tea
When I am distraught, my go-to remedy
A soothing tincture for the addled brain
After a cup or two, I really can’t complain.
I shall take the English at their word
A spot of tea, especially in the afternoon,
Can shed new light on the simply absurd
Restore to normality quicker than soon.
Nothing so hits the spot, I’ve found it so
I enjoy trying the hundreds of varieties
From around the civilized world, though
I most appreciate the Wuyi Oolong teas.
Relaxing, this grand old custom, you know
If you try it, on you it will certainly grow.
Written October 3, 2022
Black coffee for sunny mornings and hangovers,
or with the rich cream of a female ungulate caregiver.
A quick Danish for the tardy to arrive,
crispy bacon for first responders.
Duck fat in the skillet fry’s anything better -
let’s it slide off a plate.
Wipe tongues with Oolong,
Be sure to keep a store of nuts and berries.
Chocolates and red wine restores blasé taste buds.
Keep writing love menus.
Tomorrow's Forecast
If you seem certain that you can accurately predict
the trajectory of your own destiny,
Just make sure to not rely on your psychic capacity
to accomplish this miraculous feat,
By simply reading...scattered leaves of oolong tea!!
Penned: 2/23/2022
Lake Worth
Florid USA
A graveyard in Autumn is good with coffee and cream,
black coffee is for sunny mornings and hangovers,
but autumnal graveyards need the richness
of a female ungulate caregiver.
A coffin viewing
with a Danish can also be recommended
for late responders.
Every sweet poem needs a slice of lemon in it.
Sorrow needs strawberries, let that fruity blood
fill the back of your mouth, then wipe your tongue clean
with a cup of Oolong tea or orange pecan.
Autumn is the bluest month
for blue is scarce, winter white is coming
and it’s going to taste of grief for someone.
Use plenty of duck fat and bake your own pies,
anything that will slide off your plate
will get you through to a better place.
Be sure to keep a store of nuts and berries.
Compose bright poems laced with arsenic.
Hold on tight,
until the daylight wins some space
for a dreaming head to see through.
Chocolates and red wine restore and heal
eyes that are sick of looking.
Keep writing.
M-arie is in tea house,
A-iming to order herbal drink;
R-efreshment in boiling water
I-ncludes tea in oolong or green.
C-ris is in tea house,
R-eceiving aromatic beverage;
I-nfusing the leaves to flavor,
S-eptember twenty-third.
M-arie is in tea house,
E-njoying her simple snack;
R-apture she truly feels,
A-s she sips the liquid in black.
N-ight's cold chilling rain can cause no harm to her;
A-lthough the weather is vile, her heart is getting warmer.
I-n her faith so strong,
N-ever can cold water douse;
T-ry to locate her at dawn,
E-asily, marie is in tea house.
STORIES IN POTTERY
Bluebirds above the azure lakes
Burleigh cups - willow pattern trees in gold leaf -
Once with mashed Sichuan oolong,
And on their side plates, shortbread tiffin,
While nephews in white laughed loudly and played tennis on the lawn.
George V Silver Jubilee mug and plate (1910-1935)
Found by slum clearance machines
In a small kitchen overlooking the slipway at Wallsend -
The mug was dropped once and chipped
On the stone floor, toasting the returned Mauretania -
The plate was never used again,
The Mauretania was never used again.
Chipped but uncracked ; dust coated, but loved.
Shapes and pictures that hold more than hot tea.
Saucers deep and smooth, or shallow and scalloped
With painted delicate petals.
With oolong long cooled,
Cups with flared bell-mouths buried
Under crumpled newspaper stuffed
In soapboxes advertising Daz flakes
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
Fill your cup with a warm brew of questions
then cast it down from the highest peak;
a light shower of oolong rain,
a shared feast for the critters below.
Then make more tea.
Entered into Russel Sivey's
Enlightenment, Hope and Harmony Contest
04 - 21 - 13
Shrimp in Lobster Sauce
Tucked in a booth in back,
the last customer of the day
cracks a fortune cookie,
sips Oolong as Mr. Hong
locks up. It’s time for his supper.
Two tall sons bear
from the kitchen dishes
his wife won’t allow
on the menu.
Platters of meat
red, green, brown
huddle and steam
in the middle of the table.
When the Hongs
drop in their seats
chopsticks fly
like beaks. So many bright teeth,
quick as piranha.
Donal Mahoney
Quick as Piranha
Tucked in a booth in back,
the last customer of the day
cracks a fortune cookie,
sips Oolong as Mr. Hong
locks up. It’s time for his supper.
Two tall sons bear
from the kitchen dishes
his wife won’t allow
on the menu.
Platters of meat
red, green, brown
huddle and steam
in the middle of the table.
When the Hongs
drop in their seats
chopsticks fly
like beaks. So many bright teeth,
quick as piranha.
Donal Mahoney
Related Poems