wanting to write
is not the same
as actually writing

and the longing
to fill the empty page
does not fill it

my mind remains
obstinately blank

all I have is…

how about a nice cup of tea
or maybe a few
and when can we watch
doctor who
and how I’d like
to snuggle with you

and though it rhymes
and represents myself
it’s hardly poetry

just the ramblings
of my mind
far too content
to wail and moan
or grandly talk

just the lovely
of you and me
and quiet days
that pass so soft
and yet so swift

at the top of the garden

there’s a spot, now
at the top of the garden
that’s ours
where we sit
with a tea
(for me)
and a coffee
(for you)
to survey the scene
and ponder
the next wave
of the battle
to take back this space
(so neglected)
and I imagine
as I sit
all the bees
and the butterflies
who will gather
when we’re done
and the sun
blinds my eyes
while the birds
fill my ears
and my heart
fills my chest

An Ode to Tea

Drink of champions
Ultimate refreshment
Makes everything better
No matter what the world throws at you
Tea is always there
It never leaves you
Parched and alone

When problems surround
When everything seems too hard
Stop and make tea
Pour on the water
Watch the colour stain
Stir and stir and stir
As thoughts swirl round your mind

Squeeze out the tea bag
Squeeze the living daylights out of it
If it helps
A splash of milk
Sugar (if you must)
Take a deep breath
And drink

 A poem from one of my older blogs, resurrected for a bit of fun 🙂