April is National Poetry Month!  Last week, T Ching announced its Second Poetry Contest. You can review that post for the rules; deadlines, and cool prizes.  For today, here are a few tea poems from Garden Party Teas:

The soil.
The elevation.
The climate.
The sunshine.
The rain.
The tea.

The Minister of Leaves


Small and Early
4027556368_f0a8d82c8e_zWhen Dorothy and I took tea, we sat upon the floor;
No matter how much tea I drank, she always gave me more;
Our table was the scarlet box in which her tea-set came;
Our guests, an armless one-eyed doll, a wooden horse gone lame.
She poured out nothing, very fast,—the tea-pot tipped on high,
And in the bowl found sugar lumps unseen by my dull eye.
She added rich (pretended) cream—it seemed a wilful waste,
For though she overflowed the cup, it did not change the taste.
She asked, “Take milk?” or “Sugar?” and though I answered, “No,”
She put them in, and told me that I “must take it so!”
She ’d say “Another cup, Papa?” and I, “No, thank you, Ma’am,”
But then I had to take it—her courtesy was sham.
Still, being neither green, nor black, nor English-breakfast tea,
It did not give her guests the “nerves”—whatever those may be.
Though often I upset my cup, she only minded when
I would mistake the empty cups for those she ’d filled again.
She tasted my cup gingerly, for fear I ’d burn my tongue;
Indeed, she really hurt my pride—she made me feel so young.
I must have drunk some two score cups, and Dorothy sixteen,
Allowing only needful time to pour them, in between.
We stirred with massive pewter spoons, and sipped in courtly ease,
With all the ceremony of the stately Japanese.
At length she put the cups away. “Goodnight, Papa,” she said;
And I went to a real tea, and Dorothy to bed.—Tudor Jenks

If those don’t tickle your rhyme meter, you can always go through T Ching’s archives and read the fine collection of haiku, acrostic, free verse, and ballads.  Remember, you can write haiku, too!  

Note: The two poems above are not eligible for the contest.

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