The Art of Tea and Poetry

The Art of Tea and Poetry

Morning Ritual


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Coming Home
Sitting on speed, metal wings in flight / black ribbons below adorned in sequins of light / screeching engines startle Night / as Time descends / Feet on ground baggage bound<br /…
A Rhyme from Romper Room
Jack and Jill hit the campaign trail / To fetch a bushel of voters / Jack fell down for being a clown / And Jill went Galluping forward Up got Jack from his stumbling act / As f…
Birth of a River
mute starkness / an exhausted desert / blue sky white night / flesh on flesh / marital rite / in heat, soaked in sweat / body to body / a rapturous duet<br /…
A Lone Traveler
A solitary spirit / Effeminate in form Asphalting miles of memories / Treading many a storm: Intellectual roads / Laid with diamonds and dust Carnal paths / La…
Lionhearted
A lion dwells in your sentient savanna / Persistence and purpose his badges of strength / Urban forests breed banality and bromide / Seize him and purge Man of his shallow decent…

Nocturnal silence...

The day is deep in sleep 
shhh!  her mind whispers
morning has not yet broken
going into tip toe mode 
a crick-crack explodes
plastic on plastic startles the air
a neon light flickers into life
a grotesque figure stares 
at itself,  through a sheet of hardened silver 
the figure looks familiar
Where have I seen it before? 
her mind asks
a hand trembles as white wet cement
squeezes out of a plastic tube 
slithering over a clustered brick of bristles
tantalizing tickling
white specks take to the air
freckling her pale skin in their folly
Faces folded in a drawer
she chooses one
puts it on 
walks out and 
awakens the morning


© Frecklewood 2017, All rights reserved.

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© Frecklewood 2014, All rights reserved.