Tea poetry

 

Why tea poetry? Because I'm a tea addict and the beverage awakens complex emotions in me. Of course, these 'poems' don't deserve the name, but they were fun to write, anyway. If you want to increase the average quality of the poetry on this page, send me your own tea poems!

 
Really crappy tea poetry by Hmpf:

 

(To quote Methos: I wasn't thinking - I was improvising...)

 

Paris Winter Morning

Outside high windows
Grey Cold City
Still immersed in blackness
Inside
Golden light and sleepy people
Bowl of hot water
On narrow table
Tea bag seeping brown colour swirls
I put my hands around the bowl
Grateful for the heat
Filling my stomach with hot fluid before leaving
for another freezing day of discovery.

 

Turkish Tea

Five weeks measured by tiny glasses
Of gold brown liquid,
Hot and sweet.
One third strong black tea,
Two thirds water and
Three spoonfuls of sugar.
Squatting on the floor
Playing cards
And drinking tea
Watching incomprehensible television
And drinking tea
Sitting on the balcony
Eating pistachios
And drinking tea
Walking down the main street
Stopping at cafés
And drinking tea...

 

On A Windowsill

Four floors below: the road
High above: dark blue sky
In between: me
On the windowsill
One hand grasping the window frame, fingers cold as ice
(Summer's already gone)
A hot mug in the other hand
Loud melancholy music on the stereo inside
The sky dark, dark blue, not black
Fireworks in the distance
Red Blue Green Purple Silver Gold
Happy in a sad way

 

 

Reader contributions:

 

(Tea poems sent to me by readers of this page. So far only German poems, so come on, send some, you English/American/Australian/etc. people!)

 

Drei Teegedichte von Eva und Astrid

Du schwarz
Du grün
Du gelb
Du rot
Du Beutel
Du

 

Du Ceylon
Du Jasmin
Du Pfefferminz
Du Hagebutte
Du Fenchel
Du

 

Wenn's Winter ist und draußen schneit
Ist die Tasse Tee nicht weit

Denn dann wärmt sie mich so schön
Und ich spar' mir auch den Fön!

Auch Heilkraft hat das tolle Kraut
Und ist verblüffend schnell verdaut

Und die Moral von der Geschicht':
vergiß den leckren Tee bloß nicht!!!

 

Ein Teegedicht von Jenny Feuerstein

teegeruch zum
plubbern der maschine
die nassen blätter
werden wieder grün

 

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