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  1. Banzai

    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

    Mar 31, 2007
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    Reading, UK

    Weekly Poetry Contest (229) - Tea Kettle

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Mar 4, 2013.

    Poetry Contest
    Two Hundred and Twenty Nine

    Even after all of these years, our contests are the best writing resources around.

    The Rules
    • All entries must be on the set theme.
    • Only one entry per member.
    • No editing of entries once posted without my express permission (i.e. PM me and ask).
    • Poems must be titled
    • Entries must not have previously posted on the forums, and are not permitted to be posted for critique until AFTER the contest is completed.
    • Any violation of these rules will result in disqualification of entries, and possibly infraction.

    The entry stage will be open for seven days, closing on Monday 11th March 2013.

    The voting stage will begin immediately and will be open for three days, ending on Thursday 14th March 2013.

    And this week's theme is: (courtesy of Darkkin) Tea Kettle

    The next (230th) contest's theme will be (courtesy of me): The Roar of the Crowd and it will be opened on Monday 11th March 2013.

    Be imaginative, have fun, and get writing.


    PS: If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me. I don't bite (much).
  2. Roxie

    Roxie Active Member

    Apr 1, 2007
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    Aylmer, Canada
    They served you tea today
    You would have been appalled
    They poured it out a dainty kettle
    I know, the shame
    Into daintier cups
    The horror
    It’s during moments like these
    That I miss you the most
    If you were still...
    I hate that Alzheimer’s has taken you away
    You’d tell me that tea is meant to be served from a kettle that matters
    You were never one to put on airs
    One that has a story to tell
    Like the battered one you gave me
    Your tea is growing cold
    I let it
    I wasn’t served with a story
    Or shared history
    1 person likes this.
  3. molark

    molark Member

    Feb 9, 2013
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    Chicago, IL

    she waited for his thoughts that she knew
    "how could you forget what we dreamed?"
    evenly the tea kettle brewed
    over bitter leaves smooth with cream
    his cup lowered, "i did not know
    you could love me, i was a fool"
    her thoughts sweetened, let distance go,
    lost, there was nothing she could do
    the set stands still, emptiness grieves
    brown stained thoughts she washes away,
    soft remembrances of green leaves
    have left, she lets the table sway
    he stops walking, i never sought
    to keep that night from love-brewed tea
    live through dreams, but my heart is caught
    heavy that love she made for me
    she answered the door, thought was bare
    he held her strong, their dreams broke real
    from delicate cups they drunk, their
    love fed warm over leaves laid still
  4. Red Rain

    Red Rain Member

    Mar 6, 2013
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    Tea Time

    So impatient, can’t wait much longer
    Hurry up! I need my tea!
    Annoyed, I tap my finger on the counter,
    I watch the pot eagerly
    Waiting, thinking, tapping, watching

    Look up at the wall, to check the time
    The minutes tick by, one, two, three
    Pacing back and forth, what to do, what to do
    Well there is that article I was going to read
    Watching, counting, pacing, reading

    Any day now, I hate to wait
    I lift the lid to check and see
    I feel the warmth upon my face
    How much longer will it be?
    Thinking, doing, feeling, wondering

    Pot starts to steam, it’s close to done
    I grab the milk, cup, and tea
    A mental list, do I have everything?
    Waiting by the pot impatiently
    Doing, thinking, wondering, waiting

    I hear the whistle, yay, it’s done!!
    I pour the water in the cup
    I sit down with my magazine
    Savoring the moment, I drink it up
    Hearing, doing, reading, enjoying
  5. Phoenix Hikari

    Phoenix Hikari Contributing Member

    Feb 21, 2012
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    This Love is Mine

    This Love is Mine

    Fall to dream, silently whispered
    with arms stretched to unknown
    lengths and bow...

    Bow me to earth, might I breathe
    the scent of departure,
    push me back a thousand years,
    to paused moments of ocean tides,
    the crested moon envisioning
    my sight...

    They wish me desert your side,
    fury of them agitates our love,
    a fire to brew autumn leafs
    as they are lifted off our hands,

    I shall be here when your eyes open,
    cleansing your wounds, my love.
    No words I fear, no time of age,
    alone is mine, your heart...

    They brew their tea,
    I brew mine...

    for you,
    waiting eternity is not
    a waste of time
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