Brewing A Cup of Poetic Tea

I have a Facebook account close to a year old with just one solitary friend – “புத்தகம் நேசி” in Tamil meaning ‘to have an affection for books.’ I use my Facebook for a few Literary Groups that I have joined this past year with no known or unknown friends.

Yesterday morning, my random browsing of the groups resulted in the encounter of an anonymous poem from the American Literature group. Find below the poem that set my thoughts rocking

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A Cup of Tea

by Anonymous

When the world is all at odds,
And the mind is all at sea.
Then, cease the useless tedium,
And brew a cup of tea.

There is magic in its fragrance,
There is solace in its taste.
And then, the laden moments vanish
Somehow into space.

And the world becomes a lovely thing!
There’s beauty as you’ll see,
All because, you briefly stopped,
To brew a cup of tea.

PS: Made some changes to punctuations.

Often a Poem, What It Does to Me!

I am fascinated with poetry since my first attempts at quartet lines in my 7^th grade summer break. Poetry and I aged together as I came to term with my adolescent mood swings. Life became lighter after each quartet that I wrote.

So, a poem is emotional for me and less theory and literary criticism. For me, a poem opens my entire internal world, while allowing me to envision worlds that are yet to be or some unsighted parallel universe as we speak.

Ebbs of My Poetry

When I first wrote on the four Seasons with western view of four of them, namely Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, I was a novice and on the top green. I showed my work to my Eldest brother of my father and my uncle, I held in my breath for an adult approval.

He looked at the words and then just handed it back to me while he continued to make is mouth freshening betel leaf pan with tobacco stuffing. He had a little stainless box which contained the fresh betel leaves, lime paste or calcium carbonate, betel nut with nuts shaver, and a small plastic packet containing tobacco shreds.

I am assuming this fetish for paan happened after he had self-taught himself the two wind instruments, the flute and the Nadaswaram. It is prevalent among musician to sport a red mouth by constant paan chewing.

Being young and displaying my green work I understood that when my uncle did not respond then my work was not good enough. This happens to me all the time. If someone doesn’t give me a feedback on my writing then, I assume it is the worst. This trait remains till date and sadly the fact remains that I show it to family members who are all science graduates.

Maybe when I started to read Kavi Kalidasa’s work Ritusamharam, I knew why my poem which I shared with my uncle was soul-less. For the Indian seasons are six and they include, Vasanta (Spring), Grishma (Summer), Varsha (Monsoon), Sharad (Autumn), Hemanta (pre-Winter), and Shishira (Winter). I felt ashamed that my poetry did not have Indian context to it.

The fact that if my eldest uncle had told me that I could have explored more Indian sentiments and images. But it took me Kalidasa to awaken the poet who learnt that after all emotions in Indian specifically Tamil concepts were best suited for me.

Add-On Classes of Poetry

I still remember my Third and final year in the English Major of my BA course, the Department Head Radha Saraswathi mam, read out poetry and asked us to interpret it. Since she had already finished with the syllabus and we had an extra two weeks before our university finals.

I remember jumping up each time to explain the poem she had just read out loud. On the fourth or third poem she stopped me and asked if anyone other than me were willing to explain the poem read aloud.

Career Vs. Personal Choice

Poetry is the breath that I take. But for career reasons, I had to switch over to prose and mind you I am not unhappy. Currently, I am trying to learn how to write short stories as a self-study. I have picked Saadat Hasan Manto (Indo-Pakistan writer) for study and analysis of his short stories.

Even in the future, I may never be able to outrun poetry which is lovingly chasing my emotions. A huge novel against a slim booklet of poetry is no match. I would rather spend time reading the slim booklet.

I love Khalil Gibran, Robert Frost, E E Cummings, John Keats, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and endless others. I love the works of Javed Akhtar, a lyricist in Indian Cinema and his channel in Tata Sky is out of the world.

Among the Indian poets, I love poetry from all India, like Kabir’s doha, Andal’s passuram, Veda Vyasa, Thiruvallur’s couplets, Sarojini Naidu, Rabindranath Tagore, A K Ramanujan, Nissim Ezekiel, Kahlil Gibran, Pablo Neruda, and countless others from around the world whose name I am not familiar with right now.

Blessed to Be a Chennai-Based Aspiring Poet

I feel blessed to be a Chennaiite and the countless opportunity that I got to study and learn the poetry and its poetic form from varied languages. I love to read translated poems a lot especially Haikus are my favourites.

Especially, during my MFA (2012), though, I did not consciously choose my course like other studious students; but I would pick a poetry workshop every semester. Maybe the last semester was experimental.

In the choice of subject, I let my heart lead even if I did not do intense research to find what would make that cut out best seller writer. I explored and felt that world literature is the true way of knowing poetry from world over.

Present Fascination Is to Read World Poetry

That way my present challenge is to explore poetry from all over the world and the different languages is crazy embedded desire and passion. Even if they were in English translation, I wouldn’t mind reading them. I believe a poem may bring people of different fraction together. Where emotions are high, there you find human heart of benevolence is faintly beating.

Words of hurt, pain, sorrow, sadness, and displeasure could be used to express inner most disappointments, while relief of peace seeps in and allows for calm to prevail over the troubled water of the mind.

In Search of the World Poets’ Anthology

I am searching for course or books on the World Poets’ anthology. I got books on British poets, American poets, and Indian poets’ works that are single booklets. Complete works of Shakespeare’s sonnets and plays. I am yet to read Australian poetry, Middle East poetry. Though I has some exposure to Urdu poems but it is still wanting. There is still lot more countries to cover from world over.

Leaving You with A Version

If I were to give my version of the above recorded poem, then I would write a poem, which is a little different.

A Cup of Relief

By Srividya Suryanarayanan

Fretting over life’s hurdles,
Whilst, trying hard to overcome
An undefinable feat of failure
Then, stop yourself instantly.

Set the kettle to a boil,
Brew leaves from the soil.
Let not life’s burden be a toil,
Seek solace from all disembroil.

Watch the water as it bubbles,
All showcased thoughts of troubles,
Melt away in slow and steady trickle.
Scoop in a spoon of tea leaf particles.

The relief brews slowly to turn off,
With cream and some determined scoff.
Troubles of the mind like slighted cloud,
Are blown off from scattered mindscapes.

Take a sip with biscuits for a dip,
Find the emotional stop clip.
Clear the mind and the scene,
Cast your eyes on what not seen.

Then, true knowledge will preen,
Tangled thoughts of troubles been,
Grossed over by worry and sadness.
Filter the clear tea in a cup and dream.

For in all dreams likes the truth,
That, the seeker, is trying to find.
Hope, that, the defeat would not win,
Be stoic as a bravery medal you pin.

Small or big challenges abound, 
To make or break one’s spirit’s being.
Yet, hang in there until life’s end.
Sip your tea, as you deserve to relax!

The short break from tea making,
And to tea taking gives you time.
The needed respite from endless fight
A Chance to watch and to learn.

Poem Source: (Facebook Group American Literature – A Cup of Tea by Anon)