STORM IN A TEACUP

Friday again. There's a fraught feeling in the air today, a sort of swirling paranoia. Actually, I think it's because it's the Curry Night tonight and that always brings a few mixed emotions. Maybe it's just me then.

I said I'd go. I'm still not sure how wise a decision that is - I've seen things degenerate and felt like a fish out of water before at these shindigs. Yet, I do really want to be sociable - I feel like it could really help me not look like a hermit!

Anyway, seeing as I'm suffering from the 'swirling paranoia' I thought I'd post another poem. This one is from a while ago, but it captures something relevant.


Storm in a Teacup

Between the walls of china
Upon the boiling sea
we sailed upon a sugar-cube
Across the waves of tea

Across the torrid ocean
Beneath the scented sky
From bow to brown horizon
The nectar bubbled by

It bubbled and it troubled
And it slopped against the side
and the steam began to beam
upon on the overheating tide
And the ocean in a motion
Turned about the troubled crew
As it whipped about the ship
Like a storm about to brew

Then rain began to tumble
Like arrows on the sea
It lashed against the sugar-cube
And spiked into the tea.

The sea grew hot and angry
And the waves were high and steep
As the ocean pushed us skyward
And then dropped us to the deep

It grumbled and it rumbled
And it twisted and it turned
And it growled and then it howled
Till the raging waters burned
And the crew upon the brew
Looked to heaven as we cried
should we sink upon the brink
Of the effervescent tide!

Then somehow in the distance
A ray of light broke through
And suddenly the brightened sky
was shining on the crew

And limping on the ocean
We raised the tattered sail
and all across the raging tea
the storm began to fail

Between the walls of china
Upon the boiling sea
We'd known a storm no finer
Than in that cup of tea