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Bitchy

bitchy In the morning now there is a rage at waking, carrying this pain, from dreams of fleet footed joy. I won’t speak until tea is poured into my mumbling soul. Everything is dusted with a fine layer of gripes. I polish with my housecoat sleeve. It is the kettles fault this itchy feeling of discontent which rides me. Yes, today it is the kettles fault for being too slow.

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Old Man Emu

Date: 9/28/2017 12:35:00 AM

You should try the kettle on the wood stove, now that is a wait! I must do something about that one day, I actually had a can of beer one morning waiting for the kettle to boil (naughty as I was), the tea tasted a bit different. Regards, Craig

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 9/28/2017 12:53:00 AM

oh but Craig the heat from a wood stove is is comforting on a cold morning. Then again the need for the first cuppa hard choice. Do you live away in the country? Can you use an electric kettle? Thanks for reading my poem.

John Fleming

Date: 9/27/2017 2:11:00 PM

Hhmm...I have been there myself: awaking from contented dreams disappointed to find that the whole woken world now awaits you...tea will go a little way in helping to sooth that out...it always does. Hope you get a comfortable nights sleep tonight, Patricia. :) john

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 9/27/2017 3:57:00 PM

Yes tea is my solace. Just an old curmudgeon I kind cantankerous in the a.m. Thank you for your understanding.

Lim'Rik Flats

Date: 9/27/2017 9:28:00 AM

Elixirs & potions streamline our notions. Coffee for me, then I can see. Enjoyed this 'un, made me smile... and think! (after two cups;-) ~ j

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 9/27/2017 3:58:00 PM

Sounds like you are brewing up something tasty. lol a two supper eh!

Dale Gregory Cozart

Date: 9/27/2017 8:26:00 AM

VERY clever. And I'm right there with you.

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 9/27/2017 4:02:00 PM

I wonder if it is a characteristic of poets. Thanks for dropping by it is well past morning so I am human again.

Pipping Stars

Date: 9/27/2017 8:25:00 AM

ahh ... the kettle with whistle blown pots ... what is a wait for time ... this table you prepared ... here ... hold my hand ... let's wait together ... my how your beauty takes me in ... the morning sun shined through the window ... how your flesh glows with love ... my mind nor heart could ever escape from this moment ... how tender you have made this man ... that i would count the letters in a day to touch you with words isay ... come ... let us wait together ... time is but a pedals of love.

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 9/27/2017 4:06:00 PM

This is a beautiful poem in itself. Do you like warm croissants I will put them in to heat to have with butter and jam and the tea. Thank you for your morning greeting.