A Cup Of Tea.

It is a cup of tea

over which I see

a lot of history

being the cup

how it came up

so beautifully made up

comes then the saucer  below

being a lively   one in a glow

holds the cup with a bow

the tea in it so hot

poured from a pot

brewing the tea leaves in short

likewise the milk from the cow

sucked out from its blood in a flow

pure white and snow like in  hue

boiled to the temperature set

rises up like a cloud in an intersect

added with sugar  be that white too

mixed in proportions rightful

the sip turns nostalgic and wonderful

the tongue laps it all around in a mouthful

the tea invigorates the body and mind  with a heal

well, I drink my tea early in the morning  with a feel.











Boston Poetry revolution

The Boston Tea Party.

Over a cup of tea

decisions are taken  in glee

from the Boston Tea party

an iconic event in American History

triggered the American revolution

the tax on tea  caused the indignation

a  straw could light up the fire

so did the tax flaunted the ire

the Americans  dumped the  consignment

the ocean devoured the tea with excitement

the seeds of American independence was  sown

from then on the fury  of the Americans was shown

beware not to risk your authority all the more

never say  Boston Tea partylightly  it is only a cup of tea anymore.

Poetry schedule

Not With A Cup Of Tea

It is a first hour in the morning

not I with a cup of tea

nor I with a newspaper in hand

I sit on the patio just gazing

my eyes do not rest on a focus

it hovers all through in a way

could hear the birds call

the nightingale in her sweet voice

comes out with a ku ku ku

the dogs  on watch go to sleep

with a snarl and a growl

the lizards on my wall

make a noise strange

the mosquitoes after their nightly pursuits

go back to their breeding place

I sit there for long  lost in a reverie

I wake up from my  dream

ascup of tea the newspaper brushes past my face

the next hour on  I  am into the schedule

forgetfulness humour. Poetry

The Tea I Prepare

The duties I forget

the compulsive ones  most

that being the milk on the stove

it is the day to day routine

I sit reading through with concentration

or gazing through the window more concentrated

while the music  in the background plays rhapsodically

the milk boils and boils many a time

I sit unmoved in my place  lost in myself

the burnt smell emanates slowly

that is the alert generally  cautions me

I rush to see my milk  on the stove

there is no milk,  not even a drop

the  milk pan almost charred  lies burnt

this is not on one or two occasions

but being throughout my life  with few exceptions

I look up the attic straining my neck

see  milk pans in a row  shapeless and black

the milk bill escalates  two folds and three folds

I stand answerable to my husband

who frowns at me  but lets me off  with that alone

as he is so fond of the tea milk pours over.I prepare all these days.


The Don’ts

The don’tsdont I hear daily

starts with the morning tea

with the warning right

tea is injurious to health

bread is gluten prone

milk has a lot of fat

restrict on sugar

consume less salt

do not fry or deep fry

sleep not in the afternoon

sit not long on the computer

not relax in the couch

watch not the television for hours

goes on the list with many don’ts

do’s are very small

don’ts are long and many

know not what to do

know what not to do.


The Cook’s Delight.

The chip chop in the kitchen 

with the cook getting on the run

he always in a hurry

as if some one is ravenously hungry

or be a school going kid  preparing to get ready

wanting his breakfast on the table

or be so an executive running g high

as time is flying in a  speed

with the breakfast getting late

with no such identity in the vicinity

the cook turns frantic in the early morn

pulling the knives from their place

banging the pans with a sound

cutting the onions in speed

while som fall down unable to cope

he shrieks and murmurs himself

chiding the onions for having slipped

and scolding the carrots for being too thick

as the milk vendor comes in with a whistle

the cook’s next human target

who shouts at him at the top of his voice

crying that  his morning tea has been delayed

running to the stove to place the kettle

doing all this with a precipitation

for no reason what soever

as the master of the house is in the patio

reading the morning newspaper

and who has not the habit of sipping the  tea

as he  breaks his fast daily

after taking his morning bath

well over nine in the morning

the cook wanting to finish the day work

wishing BrentPassto chit-chat with the staff

who turn up for duty at nine in thee morning.

What a show it is every morn

a drama in real life seen without a penny.





A Designed Holiday.

Going up the hills for summer
was the usual sojourn.
A full two months up the hills
lent a relaxation and build up in tone.
The sun rising among the hills
late in the morning silent and still
cast a picturesque gleam all over.
With tea gardens on either side of the house
and hills going up and down in scores
with the tea leaf pickers with the basket around
talking among themselves while working in the mound
the church bell ringing a little away
and the temple slokas coming down the aisle in a sway
while the school goers march down the hills in glee
with the bags of books and lunch
The day started with mirth all along
and the sun was in a pleasant mood not wrong
shining mildly all through the morn.
The noon is moderate with plenty of sunshine
and the estate work comes to halt during the dine.
The evenings are deemed to be of highest grace
Strolling out taking a pleasant walk in the race
inhaling the aromatic tea and passing through the green grass land
which sprawls across in huge stretches all over the land.
With the wild flowers in different colors bid you near
rather wildly in a mood buoyant and dear.
Walking through get a glimpse of houses down the hill
and also up the mountains where the lights fill
and shine like stars flickering now and then.
The night sets in and with that the sleep
Curling on the bed with the blanket wrapped
got into a peaceful slumber away from the hotadderley-guest-house plains.


Dinners And Teas.

With people all around the tables
and the dish laid in a style
accompanied by a concert
where the music flowed in ecstasy
but could not be heard
in its full stature
as there was a noisy chatter
going on rolling upon
the day’s work and the gossip
stretching towards the other one
to the nether one a prolonged affair
who said this and who said that
whose face was morose
and who kept himself to a pivotal
all these ramblings get across
marring the serenity
and disturbing the spirit
for which the dinner was held
Well, this is man’s composure
and trait from ages
down to this era
where the centrifugal loses its place
and the ancillary gets atop.
Well, dinners and teas’ are part of society’s
live through and once in a way
they provide an interlude of ease
but with an overlapping of rumours
and meaningless talks and laughter
the music flowing all over falling on no ears
and the dinner endsimages (3) up with a big thanks giving
for what I really do not know.

Actions kitchen Poem

Breaking The Fast

The morning was pleasant
With the newspapers in one hand
and with a phone on the other hand
woke up to the world’s call
of news from all parts to read
of information from the family to heed.
The time for breakfast was moving on
with nothing in way of preparation.
ran to the kitchen dry
to work on a dish of deep fry
which came out with a fine taste
sat down to eat it with no haste
winding up with a cup of hot teatea

Actions thoughts True

The Magic of Tea.

The mind was tired,

The body was exhausted,

Went to the kitchen,

The tea was brewing,

The aroma was enticing,

Straining the tea,

Sipped  it lazily,

 It  drove the lethargy,

 It  stimulated the physic,

 It  invigorated the mind,

Then stood up briskly,

To attend to the task,

It is over a cup of tea