Poetry - Tea Poems - September/October 2026
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| This time round I've gathered together most of the micropoetry, haiku & jueju I've posted on Bluesky in which tea makes an appearance. Which it does. Quite frequently. |
Full moon. White tea
pours through the window—
climbing blossoms,
the old pane
with its own currents.
Music somewhere.
*
Moon—
the cup brimming with spring.
Hawthorn tea.
*
Tea, and its halo:
the steam's soft, lithe gathering—
quiet, thoughtful tongues.
*
A crow appears at dusk. A crow, not a raven. I put down my tea and my laptop and admire it for a moment. It says: "Guessin' you'd be down for a revolution if you didn't have to worry 'bout the money, huh? Fuckit! Stop working! Give away all yo' shit for free! Revolt, you fuckin' asshole!" Flies off.
*
Plum blossom melody—
one string becomes
tea, poured.
*
Unseen by the drunks,
chrysanthemums are becoming
mountain monasteries.
We study the fragrance of tea.
After 'Drinking Tea with Lu Yu on the Ninth Day', Jiao Ran, 8th Century Tang dynasty Buddhist monk
九日山僧院
東籬菊也黃
俗人多泛酒
誰解助茶香
*
*
Tea buds an old friend
sends to this exiled immortal
—the moon in the Xiang River—
the cup flowers.
After Liu Yuxi, 8th–9th Century Tang dynasty poet
生拍芳叢鷹觜芽
老郎封寄謫仙家
今宵更有湘江月
照出菲菲滿碗花
*
*
Sunlight. Bone-ache.
Bleary-eyed recommencing of the clock.
As we age we grow closer to stone.
Work-weary. World-weary.
Still, this morning there is
a soft wind through the branches
of the plum tree. Tea's gentle song.
At the moment of waking, we are children.
As-Salaatu Khayrun min an-nawm.
