Home » Poems » Best » Hot Water

Best Hot Water Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Hot Water poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of hot water poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Hot Water poems, articles about Hot Water poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Hot Water poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

New Hot Water Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Hot Water poems are below this new poems list.

Hot Water Burned by Gentile, Mike
Hot Water Music by Boskovski, Chris
Hot Water Spring by Chutani, Mohan
Hot Water Heater Woes by Ryerson, Tim
'Hot Water Bottle' by Neels, Wilma
Hot Water by Kopp, Robb A.

View all new Hot Water Poems

The Best Hot Water Poems

Details | Hot Water Poem |

Choosing the Path of Most Resistence

Don't fall through the cracks,
through the floorboards
past the pipes
hot water hissing
grey metallic stun gun dull.
Don't land on the basement steps,
slipping on down
bumping the back bone
breaking the fall
with your body gone white like you know it so well.
Don't let the swallow of house
and of home
consume you
in solitude's
greedy embrace
Don't wish the outside
would stop looking in
and impute ugly motives
to trees and to flowers
who have your best interest
in chlorophyll hearts.
Don't taste the floors
on your way down to hiding
Don't dine on splinters
and varnish and wine
Don't master silence
when no one is looking
Don't close your eyes
and pretend you are fine.
Don't slip on sentences
you uttered years ago
down in the basement
in pipes 
steaming hot
Don't waste your sentiments
or your existence
on hiding the fact
that you are
what you're not
Don't laugh at paintings
with eyes that console you
on walls that you hung
last July on a whim
Don't think the walls
don't expect you
to call them
if you are in trouble
and losing your color from somewhere within
Don't apply pressure
to fissures in floorboards
to fit your way through
and become 
what you lose
It's a lot stronger
to stand and absorb it-
surroundings adore you,
implore you to chose.

Details | Hot Water Poem |

Teenage Mutant * Ninja Turtles!!

TEEN AGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES!!

One day I came home with the flu.
My mother gave me a bowl of stew

All I can say is that the stew was thick like goo.
I still ate it thinking it was chicken stew.
 
Saturday morning I woke up watching Winnie The Pooh.
Mother made me a sandwich that was hard to chew

In the kitchen I saw 2 strange looking shells
Once I saw them I started getting dizzy spells

Eating turtle soup with out having a clue.
Made my face turn green and blue.

Walked into the living room.
My stomach still felt kind of doom.

My mother was watching the tube and singing along
Singing along to the,"Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" song!

          NOW THAT WAS WRONG!!!!!!
____________________________________________
.           
              TWO TURTLE DOVES

During Christmas, I always go hunting in the woods
I set out traps to catch me some goods

I caught two turtle in my first trap
Poor little things where full of crap.

I was singing "On the first day of Christmas" on my way back.
All I could think of was my Two Turtle (Doves), snack!

I took them inside and dipped them in water
They had no idea they where soon to be slaughter 

My dad told me that turtle soup hits the right spot.
Silly turtles where already in the boiling pot

Looking at the pot one  turtles was swimming around
I can't believe in the hot water he didn't even drown

I had to pull him out, and set him on the rebound.
I'll just cook him on my second round.

I am ready to eat my turtle stew.
Praising this soup with an mm mm thank you!

DARN!! Salt and Pepper was the main thing I forgot
Realizing napkins was the only thing I bought 

I put the napkins on my lap.
I was about to have me some turtle snap.

I started singing my favorite Christmas song.
Suddenly the "Two Turtle Dove" part did not belong.

Singing softly to my favorite line
Eating the stew didn't feel fine.

""On The Second day of Christmas
CCCCCCCCCCCCCChrrriiissstamms

MMMMMMMMMMMy  TRUE LOVVVVEE
Gave to me TWO TURTLE DOVVVVEE

With out having the jolly to sing along.
I had to put the stew to a side and be strong.

     (now)  THAT WAS WRONG!!!!!


((( HAVING FUN WITH MY OWN TURTLE CONTEST )))

Details | Hot Water Poem |

Coffee cup calculations - poet's cut


Based on BBC news article "Maths zeroes in on perfect cup of coffee"
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-37989169


Two billion cups a day we drink
To stay awake so we can think
Tireless workers - every nation
Need a caffeine drink equation

Lattes, mochas, cappuccinos
Our calculator super heroes
Measured, reasoned, wrote a theorem
Clockwork system - mighty fearsome

Divide the beans and add hot water
Multiplies the bean aroma
Takes away the taste chaotic
Get this right - it's sums and logic

China cups the theory goes
Helps the smell go up you nose
Cardboard mug with plastic roof
Not as good, but where's the proof?

But their reason's most disjoint
Like whole numbers - has no point
You just need a rule of thumb
QED for us dumb-dumbs



(Entry for "wake up with coffee or tea" contest - shortened to meet rules)

Details | Hot Water Poem |

Judgement People and Haters Rhyme

                               Judgement People and Haters Rhyme

Hate me cuz, M I ain't great;
Hate me when I'm a minute late;
But your here not working, standing here straight;
Judging me people judgmental;
Ya can't even boil hot water yourself in a burning kettle;
Juz as a Hippocrates
Judgmental false profit;
No regrets, yet, I still wish you be blessed;
Ya hate me cuz I waz born;
Hate me before and evermore;
I ain't Juz like ya Boy;
Judgmental people and haters;
Three thousands years same ole debating;
the only rights is all your wrongs;
Ya kill time one time, but time gon kill ya;
Hope your holding on to do ba;
Nothin left but a silents Hallelujah;
Facilitate your witness cuz ya ain't nothin;
Stop all this judgmental hatred and cussin;
I've got a job ya hateN;
Got couple children ya hateN, unmarried out their fornicating;
Got your nerve Ya judgmental people and haters hating;
Let him without sin cast the first stone;
Better git git it right before you git to heaven;


FOR CONTEST: Judgement People and Haters
Sponsored by:  Brenda Cheri

Details | Hot Water Poem |

Coyote Full of Secrets Deep and Dark PT3

Although the kiss was brief  
The sensation seem to linger,
His eyes still closed when he felt a pain 
As she ran the razor sharp nail of her finger

His eyes popped open as he looked at his chest
She hushed him and stroked his hair while whispering “rest”
He found that he was laying on the floor
Surrounded by snow, his chest was bloody and gore

“What you doing?” he begged
“Hush I said.”
“All will be revealed in time,”
“Rest you’re now mine.”

He panicked and tried desperately to move
But could not, as if his body had been removed
She sat next to him as her tail caressed his face
The scent of a woman was pleasurable, her tail like a silky lace

She spoke “ Do you remember long time ago,”
“The beginning of your people’s sorrow?”
“Yes,” he replied
The reality of his situation dawned on him as he deeply sighed
“The sacrifice should have been from the chief’s fruits not a bearer,”
“Yes,” he replied, “A male child not female that’s what brought our terror.”

“What Happened to Little Irit?” she asked
He hesitated for a while, “She was taken by Coyote,” he said at last
“Probably eaten, how should I know.”
She whispered “That was not so.” 

“I am Irit the sacrifice, not little anymore,” “They now call me Irma.”
Child of Coyote, Goddess of Devolma”
“Although you killed my father, his spirit lives in me”
She straddled him, sat on his belly leaned forward and said “Look in to my eyes and 
see the fate I have for thee”

Her eyes were pools of fire
As he saw his fate, the terror made him scream out and perspire
Her fingernails slowly pushed under his chest deep inside
Slowly tearing the skin open wide

He screamed but his body did not move
He passed out, she stopped and waited until he was fully alert before continuing the 
skin removal 
“Medicine man where is the one that should have been given in my place?”
“Show haste and I might spare the rest of you and your face.”

The pain was to much to bare and thought he would die at that moment in time
But her words echoed in his pain “YOU ARE MINE”
“His in hiding in the great towns,” he screamed
The exposed muscles to the air was like no other pain but she had hot water on the 
fire which steamed

“Hush, this is only the beginning for you medicine man she whispered….

To be continued….

Details | Hot Water Poem |

I live in America, as in the United States of America, and that used to mean something. At least to me it did. And it’s not so much in how I was raised but in how I was couched by my country. While I was never one to really fall into the “mom, apple pie, hot dog and baseball” America ideal, I did believe in the land of the free and the home of the brave, where all men are equal and rights for all men. And I still do believe that ideal. Yet this country of mine keeps despairing me as I continually see a degradation of those ideals over the last fifty years. And I have this following theory.

We are a melting pot of all societies and prided ourselves on accepting everyone. But take a look at that for a minute. Look at Europe and Africa and their history for a minute, I did. Throughout recorded history Europe and Africa kept all religious and racial differences segregated in their different countries, or areas, and fought each other over ideological differences and over the generations a deep-seated, in-bred hatred developed for each other developed. Wars were begun for the simple act of mingling with other races or religions. This is fact, look it up. Now flash-forward to the new country, America, with its open borders accepting the oppressed, where all flocked to start a new life. Now you’ve got a huge influx of natural enemies flooding a nation and now they are supposed to just drop their in-bred prejudices? Play nice after centuries of discord? But for the Civil War, I’m surprised we haven’t erupted into total anarchy. But the whole point of this is that these people want to come here and keep their culture, their identity. I see no fault in that and don’t blame them, but that brings me right back to my original question, where, or more fundamentally, what, is it to be American?

I believe the original creators of the Declaration of Independence were visionaries. It bothers me at times to see various Facebook posts and other mentions of such things saying they were racist, or this, or that. I do believe there was a lot of that in many of the implementers of the document, but not really in the actual architects. Why do I believe that? Mostly for this statement: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness”. And the 11th Article of the Bill of Rights confirms the Declaration thusly: “The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people”. Yet in this country, just like in the mother countries of Europe and Africa, we suffered from racism and bigotry. I believe this goes back to my theory of the melting pot of people who came to America. They couldn’t overcome their bigotry or racism or hatred just because they came over here, although some really tried. Yet I believe the architects of the Declaration were far-sighted enough to not try to create some sort of Utopia either, but rather a working, self-sustaining country that was governed by the people, for the people. The biggest problem as I see it was that it got too big … that’s not totally true. The biggest problem as I see it is politics and the “American Way”.

When is the last time you heard a politician run a campaign and only talked of the issues that concerned the people? I only see and hear them talk of negative things of their opponents. Why would I vote for anyone who tries to smear their opponent? How is that helping me or my neighbor? How is that serving the public good? How is that engendering trust? It’s not, in my opinion. And the “American Way”? Americans are far too smug, too fat and happy. There’s very little strife so we take way too many things for granted. Don’t believe me? This may seems simplistic and a little childish, but take your household chores for example. We live in a country where you can wash your dishes in hot water, can even use an automatic dishwasher, can even wash your clothes in an automatic washing machine and electric dryer. We have so many modern, electronic conveniences that it’s actually making us dumber. Don’t believe me? How many of you have lamented the young cashier at the convenience store who cannot make change unless the cash register tells them how much to give back? Basic skills are being eroded because of the useless conveniences we keep making in the never ending quest to make our American lives easier. It’s disheartening, really. Maybe it’s just me and progress really isn’t that bad, but I see proof everyday of the dumbing of America, and if you’re of a certain age I believe you see it, too.

So I see this huge country I live in, called America, filled with so many diverse people living in … harmony? I don’t know, I still see racial problems and still can’t figure out why. I have a very simple philosophy on life: while we’re not entitled to material things, every person is entitled life and respect to be who they are, so long as they do not intend to hurt others. And, for the most part, I’m happy enough and I am oh, so grateful that I live here, in America. I can say what I want, I can worship who I want – if I want – and I can aspire to become what I want, if I’m willing to work hard enough. And you can disagree with me, if you want. We have that freedom. Because we are living in America, and we are free. For now.

But I do worry about the future America and what it may devolve into.

Details | Hot Water Poem |

Forgotten Valentine

February winds pound the siding scattering sand left by the snow plows through the gray angry air. The house seems full of small noises and little else. The cat has taken up his guard post in his rug-covered tree house and purrs in tune with the ping of the hot water pipes. Even the dust has settled.

empty chairs
surround a guestless table:
I stand cup in hand

Scanning the tidy kitchen with its Wedgewood-blue counters and rustic farm-scene border, I note, the cabinets need a good rubdown. Murphy’s Oil in hand I approach the oak with determination, and a soft pink flannel rag. The scent of lemon oil, crisp and clean, wafts past my nose. With great care, I climb a gingerbread chair to reach the highest cabinets over the stove. I balance, praying the seat cushion doesn’t slide out from under my feet. Opening the double doors, I view a stockpile of holiday décor, now unused. There below the paper Easter Eggs, I see them and a tear comes to my eye. Empty now, decades old, of all different sizes, red satin boxes, Valentine Hearts, forgotten. 

disturbed dust
floats past my eyes:
the clock bongs once

First Published in haibun Today Fall 2013

Details | Hot Water Poem |

A Simple Story

I was born in 1943
in a rural backwater safe from the bombs
also a safety net still akin to the 19th century.
Neither electricity nor gas
only an old oil lamp and candles for comfort.
The luxury of the tin bath once a week
brought in from the scullery, placed in front 
of the cast iron Yorkist fire range
with hob and side boiler, to source the hot water
poured into the bath at regular intervals
to help keep out the cold.
Old overcoats and hessian sacks placed across 
the bottom of the doorways, to aid keeps out the icy drafts,
also aid as foot warmers once upon the beds.
A copper boiler for the weekly wash
a fire beneath to be lit, a combination of paper
sticks of kindling all pre chopped
as were the logs to maintain the heat
of the dark stained grey coloured water,
stirred by the posser, to aid mixture 
of the home made soap, and the garments.
Slop bucket (The posh name for it)
to be emptied every morning,
carried down the lane to the tippler convenience
care not to spill on the seat or trouble with the neighbours.
Wet batteries for the wireless
to be carried once a week from the local store,
replacements for the empty ones
a choice of 2 stations
BBC and BBC.
Early nights, early mornings the darkness prevailing
throughout the long winter months,
only for the daylight to never end
in the month of June, impeding one’s sleep
even then we were never satisfied with our lot in life.
Only my father laying in a military hospital
a casualty of war, was missing the value of it all
after all he was fighting for it
his life style, his freedom our freedom
to enable me to write this, ever so simple story!

© Harry J Horsman 2013

Details | Hot Water Poem |

The Shower





There was a pretty girl called Charlene
Who showered all day to stay clean
The hot water ran out
She gave a loud shout
And started swearing like a marine

Details | Hot Water Poem |

'Hot Water Bottle'

hot water bottle
just a temporary cure
until his return




29/05/2011... 22:00

*wishful thinking on my part* 
lol

Details | Hot Water Poem |

Tea Bag

Clock ticking
Time for tea
Opening the tea box
Fingers sink into the peach flavor
The light on the electric kettle flickers
Pouring the hot water in a crystal cup
The tea bag ready to dive 
Time to infuse the aroma
Sigh 
Waiting for the tea to brew
The cup is taken 
Blissful unity to be sipped
The drip into the mouth 
Awakens the senses
Back to another day of finances

Details | Hot Water Poem |

Some Limericks...

She’s out there chasing a cricket

Through bush, through shrub & through thicket

Together they hop

Fugitive, cop

But when she gets it, she just wants to lick it!
 

A cat whose vet took his eye

Just cannot quite understand why

His eye’s been enucleated,

3-D vision reduciated,

So now, he keeps an eye out for an eye

 
Ya gotta keep limericks loose

Think green eggs, or perhaps Dr. Seuss

They’re structured, it’s true,

But they’re also a zoo

Whose tenants are all on the loose!


I frolic in fountains of words

Overflowing with serious absurds

Each poem I write

Wakes up and takes flight

Joining angels and faeries and birds

 
You ask that we write a good limerick

How to do so, I haven’t a glimmerick

So I struggle and frown

Teaching  poems to clown

So a smile on your lips will be shimmerick

 
A cat with a mouth full of mouse

Brought her feast right into my house

She played with her food

Who was not in the mood

To be a banquet of mouse in the house

 
The nightmares that shadow my sleep

Stampede the proverbial sheep

Right out of my mind

When I try to unwind

I find my appointment with sleep hard to keep

 
In her search for original truth

She met people unsavory and couth

She knitted and purled

But only unfurled

Yarns told by new age and old youth

 
Cat, suddenly pink,

Drinks her water from out of the sink

She looks so absurd

Since she’s been de-furred

I really don’t know what to think!

 
If one and one is two and two is four,

And there’s only two ways to go through  a door,

Then, is earth up or down?

And, where is down town?

These are questions we need to explore!

 
A was that is an is

Tried to mind my biz

But I sent it packing,

Its presence was lacking

And I don’t have time for such shiz!


A couple who lived in Los Lunas

Loved the wide desert sky’s crystal blueness

They’d stare at the air,

Over here, over there

And rejoice at the feeling of newness

 
A cat with a very fat gut

Found it easier to walk on his butt

He’d drag it around

Across carpet and ground

And use it to slam the doors shut

 
Said the Missus to her dear Mr. Otter,

“There’s something I think that you oughta

Do before we get old

To protect us from cold –

You oughta make the hot water hotter!”

 
The ghosts who live up in my attic

Make noises that sound much like static

I’ve tried to send them away,

But they’re here to stay,

Those staticky ghosts in my attic

Details | Hot Water Poem |

Welcome To My Home

Welcome To My Home

I've been blinded by your sentiment,
and awoken by your sweet cologne,
like our sweet morning regiment,
we don't live in a house, but a home.

I see my pugs silly smushy face,
as soon as I open my exhausted eyes,
all night he sleeps in the same place,
on my feet, but I'm not surprised.

I'm in the bathroom brushing my teeth,
I open the door and there he is,
my sweet golden retriever beast,
So darn sweet, how can I resist?

“Time to get up Ella and get dressed!”,
It's Monday, you know how that goes,
As I see her smile I know I am blessed,
Love her from her head to her tiny toes.

Pancakes and orange juice for breakfast,
packing a lunch for my sweet Ella Rose,
These special moments can't be purchased,
Oh, how her beautiful brown hair flows.

Back from school and it's Laura time,
I kick back, relax, and do a little writing,
I'm lucky to have a chance to unwind,
My over sized lounge chair, typewriting.

Laundry piled up I suppose I throw in a load,
mmmmmmm..my favorite fabric softener,
Hot water is off my washer is cold,
But I think it makes the clothes softer.

Eat lunch? Or my favorite apple strudel?
I'll go with the unhealthy snack instead,
Plus I just looked and I'm all out of noodles,
and I have no more of my raspberry vinaigrette.

Uh oh, I forgot to feed the turtle and bunny,
my precious white fluffy piece of heaven,
His name is Lucky and he is very funny,
Pebbles the turtle just turned seven.

I set my phone alarm to go off at four o'clock,
I still can't decide what's my favorite ring tone,
I go to the bus stop right around the block,
It's cold, I would've brought a coat if I had known.

“Hi sweetheart, how was your day at work?
He's finally home, I've missed him so much.
Next it's time to sit down and do homework,
Dinner's ready, we are all starving, I figured as such.

Look inside our windows you will see it yourself,
With our little family of seven we're never alone,
We may not have a lot of monetary wealth,
But we've learned to turn a house into a home.

Written By: Laura Loo
Date Written: January 29, 2016

Best Hot Water Poems | Poetry

New Hot Water Poems

The Best Hot Water Poems

Atacama / English Version

Born To Dance

Choosing the Path of Most Resistence

Teenage Mutant * Ninja Turtles!!

Coffee cup calculations - poet's cut

Refreshed

POWER OUTAGE

The Perfect Day

Bath Time in the 40s

Judgement People and Haters Rhyme

Coyote Full of Secrets Deep and Dark PT3

About the 1500's

I DIED AGAIN TODAY

Erotic Shower - ADULTS ONLY

Time Warp

HOG KILLING TIME

WET DREAMS - FOR CONTEST

Being American

Forgotten Valentine

A Simple Story

The Shower

'Hot Water Bottle'

Tea Bag

Some Limericks...

Welcome To My Home