I toasted my hi-tea and you
for mere two days, a night, or two?
I don’t remember really
as I forgot the real me, then only.
Sinking under your veneered opal aura,
Stealing from your gold rimmed quanta,
I sipped your nectar for my youth,
and ushered a Cha-No-Yu!
My glossy, rosy lips when sank into yours,
Ah! Those dried rose petals, cracked, parched, coarse,
Beneath those crevices, deep within,
You were rugged, porous, skeleton thin.
You were all set to entice me, to woo.
And, I savored the real flavors of you,
Earl-grey, Lemon-grass and Rose-hip
All blended with your earthy whiff.
And you sipped a little of my essence,
Little, but vital, my heart, my quintessence.
Because, beneath your lustrous exterior,
You were like me, brazen, porous but pure.
I peeped in your ribcage from your fissure,
There were my shadows, I was so sure.
‘Twas not part of your steep Chinaware,
But of earthen clay, rustic, sans any glare!
Beneath your skin I smelt petrichor
Ah! We ushered a Cha-No-Yu, not mere chores
Then love bloomed afresh, Oh-So-Divine,
Those two days and nights weren’t only mine.
Rhetoric were the long tales told by you
But mine were succinct, profound haiku
Though deep within we were indifferent
Our extrinsics were at variance.
So, I couldn’t grab you as you clashed
Too hot to hold, I burnt my hands
I slipped you, broke you in pieces,
But, I too was cut in slashes.
All your scattered tiny pieces,
Perished my each and every esse’
Piercing my eyes, you stole my sight
Afore-blinded, Ah! Love would suffice.
A piece of you I swallowed in
Then onwards I could never sing.
Your sharp edge cut my dainty strings
With you I lost my rains and springs.
I’m left to ashes, you blazed me up
How could my soul befit in a china cup?
Like soul, never die love and music
My air is still filled with your acoustics.
I would mend you again with my bone ashes,
Embellish you with gold of my heart’s smashes.
I’ll fill you then with water, crystal clear
Percuss cadence from you, without fear.
My love wasn’t meant for a day or two
‘Twas not a sip of tea but was Cha-No-Yu
To my generations to come, I would pass on
A classic cup of tales, but newly burgeoned.
*Cha-No-Yu: The Japanese tea ceremony, is also called the Way of Tea. It’s a Japanese cultural celebration which involves the ceremonial preparation and presentation of Matcha, powdered green tea. It’s considered a divine and religious act in zen philosophy, performed by Samurai (Japanese Soldiers) before committing Seppuku (suicide for the honor of country) .
*Haiku: Haiku is a Japanese poetic from written in a scheme of 5-7-5 syllables, respectively in 3 lines Haiku were originally written by Samurai to commemorate art and love before they left for war.
*QUATRAIN 13 speaks of two beautiful art forms created around crockery, especially cups. The first couplet is about Kintsugi, a centuries old Japanese art of mending broken crockery with precious metals, especially Gold. I would call it ‘The Art of Precious Scars’. The second couplet portrays our very own Indian Jaltarang. It’s a percussion musical instrument made of ceramic (or china cups) filled with water and tapped with a stick to induce music.
PS: A fling happening between a woman and a tea cup? Ain’t it sound interesting? Or you find it weird? But, if I say, it wasn’t mere a fling but a perennial bond between two souls, absolutely different in their exterior but somewhere deep within they were the same, I would suffice to my poem.
This is a winning post written for a poetry prompt #cupoftales by Plethora Blogazine. Nothing less would fit into a cup of timeless tales than a poetic fiction. It carries a love story started over a cup of tea, reached onto divinity and ended in chaos because of malicious interventions!
The teacup is just a metaphor, a symbol, a telltale of a divine unison.
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Sangeeta Ma’am the whole metaphorical take of your love tale through bone China cup is truly enticing. The elegance of Cha-No-Yu you have created flawlessly and the expression of two souls in love where the woman is expressing her emotions towards her love, bit broken yet the longing of being united is greatly done through careful selection of words. The rhythmic balance, the stanzas of precision has made the poetry a masterpiece in itself. ❤️