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What’s in a cuppa? (Iambic Hexameter)

One must be in the moment to enjoy the tea,
a time of contemplation; nowhere else to be.
Aroma, taste and warmth alone to hold one’s thought.
A sentimental cup and may perhaps a pot.

Arrange a lovely view to set the mind at ease
and should it be outside allow naught but a breeze.
Then choose the tea with care- it must be brewed to soothe,
a bitter taste or something cultivated smooth.

Earl Grey and sage, ginseng or Russian chamomile,
whatever dampens one’s soci’tal slap and squeal.
It matters not so long as mind is focused keen
and do not be enamored of the coffee bean.

The point is singularity of centered muse.
To push all else aside, to have no plights to choose.
To set, for just a moment, all one’s burdens free
we must be in the moment to enjoy the tea.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
This is drivel, but the idea was bugging me, so...
Editing stage: 


I am not much of a tea drinker, at this point, I would like something a little harsher but I like this poem. Many people get comfort from what's inside their cup. Right now mine is running on empty

Keep Writing,

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

Oh yes, just the way to enjoy a good cuppa. (Sri Lankan tea)
Your poem is like a soothing aromatic cup of tea, too.
Simply enjoyed!

Thank you for sharing.

Remove the (and) from line two verse two, and line four verse three. Bring to the boil, and i think it will taste much better. mmm tasty. Regards Roscoe...

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

It is my job after all.
A "verse" is a single line of poetry. You referred to a "stanza" and if I eliminate those words what happens to the meter? But I'm still grateful you take the time to kibbitz.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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author comment

Reminds me of Japanese ritual tea drinking! All focus is on the tea!

Fabulous rhyming - tight and precise and yet not forced in any way!

You are a man of great talent.

Love Mand xxxx

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