Best Hot Water In Poems
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
The wind sits steady as the leaves begin to change
Cigarette buts on the ground
While there's puke stains
on the walls
From mixing two different types of alcohol
Beer cans sit in the sink to think
Tearing away your feet from this sticky ground
Made by some type of substance
That got spilt but never found
But somehow things just keep turning back around
With no way to tell your ups from your downs
With no A/C in the summer
It almost made you hell-bound
No hot water in the winter
Made you feel like a hound
Tied up in the yard
Or the street
Broken glass at your feet
With a chain tightly wrapped around your neck
You open the fridge
Nothing left to eat
So you decide to munch on the bricks till your gums begin to bleed
Although it wasn't too bad
You still had your weed
You were still able to get high
The lights still worked
You were able to get by
Ate your moldy slices of bread
Making enemies with the flies
As the dishes piled high
And your friends they think their sly with their pin-point lies
Trying to disguise the pain that was soon to arise
But they don't know what it means to truly be alive
So obsessed with reaching the thrills of the divine
How 'bout you go and snort another line
Maybe that will help you stare at the sky
trying to hide the red in your eyes
Expression sometimes can feel like a crime
The joy in being able to free your mind
Maybe that will help keep you steady on the days
when you see your mom cry
and you just want to hit something
And you don't know why
And sometimes you don't know where to go
Because you're half-blind
some days being able to find solace in the rhymes
You keep telling yourself that you are one of a kind
But as the leaves begin to change
Although the ideas can't be swayed
Your meaning begins to fade
with the last rays of sunshine
Creatures scratching at my door
Ripping sheets off my bed
Imagining shards of my soul being ripped
Minutes passing being unable to breathe
Silent whispers pass through my head
Ongoing loud scratches outside of my door
No whispers have escaped my mind
Killing creatures in my dreams
Identifying my horrors becoming true
Sizzling boiling hot water in my bathroom sink
Scary noises of decaying death
Future Dreams
The hot water in the teapot
is boiling and the kettle whistling loudly.
It seems to have gotten hot, very quickly,
as if time was speeding up,
and not slowing down,
or allowing for those that can not run
to walk faster.
This morning the sun itself...
seems on a mission to reach
its zenith in the sky,
but one has to wonder why?
The birds outside are fewer than yesterday,
the storm having taken some south.
They will come back when the winds drop,
or they will die trying to reach home.
It is what they do,
it is what we all do,
in an effort to be made whole.
The shadows are longer in the shade
and the sun is hotter in the open,
than it has been felt in a hundred years.
By afternoon, the clouds will return
with a vengeance to pour upon the land
which can not hold the precious liquid anymore.
Instead, it simply runs down the sides of the mountains,
through fresh steams and rivers newly formed.
It rushes by homes that were once safe, and dry.
Now the land itself repels, and denies.
This season will lead into the next,
but diminished in capacity and ill-prepared.
We are worn out from the fights
we have already lived through,
but the war is far from over.
Bow, kneel, and pray for a better day,
in some way to bypass this one for the next,
without losing our train of thought
or reflecting that we are small,
and only He is tall.
He complained that he had no hot water in his home because the water tank was broken.
She told him that her water came from a slough, which was five miles from her home.
He complained that his car had broken down and he had to take the bus to work.
She told him that she had to walk ten miles every day to market, where she sold a dozen eggs for fifty cents.
He complained that he had to buy his clothes from a second-hand store.
She picked her rags out of a garbage dump.
He complained that he ate leftovers twice a week.
She was lucky if she ate twice a week.
He complained that his bed was starting to sag in the middle.
She slept on a dirt floor.
He complained that his family was a burden and prevented him from enjoying life.
She had no family.
He complained that fear of losing what he had, was causing him stress and anxiety.
She had nothing.
He complained.
She survived.
I had an Ananas
Served by a Barefooted waiter
Around a Bonfire
When the Boats came in
Through the clear waters
The Cameras went Click Click
As the Crabs ran into the sea
We dried our towels on the Dwarf palms
The Excitement made the Fishermen drink Safari Cane
And Goody joined the Giriama dance.
And the German swung in the green Hammock
There was Hot water in the showers at midnight
Children of the Island don’t like to fish
She taught me the value of the Mangrove
As we sunk the seeds in the Mud
The New age walls are something
And Omari loved Riding in the boat
Forgot all about the Rusted shower heads
Sleeping under nets in the Sand
Alerted us to Sunrise
And Seashells tattooed our faces
The Salty water and Smoke
Soaking in the Sun and building Sandcastles
With Sea weed from sparkling sea water
Telling Tales under a star studded sky
Terse smiles from in-laws who were shy
The Watermelon was super.
total fiction
I heard the words repeated on the news
so sick of them that my mind rebelled...
"Doge's plan and Trump commands
the Constitution should be banned.
Hell to that Chief! There's no relief
Breaking news only heightened the blues.
I don't want to hear anymore.
By seven P.M. I lost count of the trips
I'd made, walking fast, past my kitchen,
refusing to turn on the light to see
a day's worth of dirty dishes
that wish I'd make them sparkling clean.
They're staring with a look of contempt at me.
I knew what I'd find...
coffee grinds stuck to the filter
Raisin bran flakes
caked along the edge of a bowl
a saucer with a bunch of crusts
cut off of a sandwich from lunch.
I'll get to them later....
The excuse I used on myself
when the sink is a refuse of clutter.
I've become a recluse
and no one will see them anyway
and the old cliché of...
Tomorrow's another day.
By eight thirty I was bored
a time when food comes to mind
Hunger would not be ignored
A frozen dinner of mac and cheese
"Geeze" said my stomach
when it saw it coming...
"Oh PLEASE, don't do this to me"
Ok, ok...
chocolate ice cream
sounds better anyway
By ten, guilt pointed accusing fingers
lingering and wagging before my face.
Stop it!" I actually said aloud
"I'll get to them later,
first thing in the morning. You'll see."
My new mantra was repeated.
I decided to go to bed. My usual stunt,
but culpability was on the hunt
haunting and taunting inside my head
Two steps over the kitchen threshold
and my conscience took control
when I smelled the leftover fish.
The thought of facing each greasy dish
would not be on my to-do list come morning.
I knew my mouth was puckered in a pout
No doubt my yawns were angry at me
and my sudden notion of conviction...
a vow of benediction, it seems I'd taken
awakened me to the need for sanitation.
Liquid was pouring from two spouts
Hot water in the sink
and a 'clink' of glass on glass
Pinot Noir flowed from a decanter
I raised my stem and toasted the dishes
"Here's to wishes that don't come true."
A Couple Sharing a Special Time
Hibiscus herbal tea with honey
Served with homemade sugar cookies
The woman anticipated her special friend.
Putting on the kettle with filtered water
Setting the cookies in oven.
She timed it perfectly.
As he came through the door way.
He offered to help and collected the teabags, cups, spoons and honey
From the cabinet.
Placing them on the small dining table.
The kettle's whistle made a low sound.
The ovens timer went off.
Everything was done.
He had placed the Hibiscus teabags into each cup.
She gracefully poured the hot water in them.
Placing two small saucers over each cup to
Let the tea seep.
After a few mins he took the honey placing
Removing each saucer putting some honey
Into each cup.
The man and woman stirring, slowly sipping a delicious brew.
Looking intently in each other's eyes.
Placing one of their hands on the table.
As he slowly touched her hand.
Cookies munched on.
Hot calming Hibiscus tea in them.
A time of intimacy
Where silence hits the hearts.
When hearts meet no words have to be shared.
Just a mutual understanding and emotions that are set on the same page.
Today I cleaned a clogged drain pipe.
It sounds nasty but not really.
This often happen in the country
where kitchen run off goes
to a French drain.
You cap the end and put
hot water in with a little clorox,
let it sit a while, then
drain the sludge.
So, I was in the process of
rinsing out the pipe after cleaning
and I had a small puddle of clean
water on the ground, and the
rinse water was to the left of that
because I had moved the pipe somewhat.
That is when I noticed the four earthworms.
What they were doing, I don’t know.
But, they were tied up in knots,
two by two, and really having a good time.
I could tell!!!
Just then more dirty water
began to flow out of the pipe.
One of the worms was somehow
attracted to what it thought was fresh water
and quick as a flash, in one quick move
untangled from the other worm.
Making a mad dash in the water’s direction,
and before even reaching it, stretched
out almost twice it’s length, the front half
rising off the ground
to put what I assume to be
equivalent to a mouth into the water.
In mid air, without even coming
to a complete stop it did a
one and a half gainer
with a full twist,
and was on its way back to whence it came.
It did NOT like that Clorox taste.
I never laughed so hard in my life.
The worm?
Last time I looked it was tied up in knots again
with you know who.
© Sep 14 2010 For Carols Story contest
Irma 9/9/2017
By Franklin Price
Since my last inscription
Irma's moved on quite a lot
Today's the day she's moving north
To show us what she's got
She now is over Cuba
Deciding what to do
With her eye on lower Florida
She's coming after you
She's been to many islands
Destroyed them one and more
Hit them with her Cat 5 winds
Deaths are moving towards a score
Soon she's departing Cuba
Moving up across the keys
To tear up lots of buildings
And blow down many trees
With winds around 150
she's a category 4
Hot water in the Florida Straits
May make her five once more
She has no feeling for you
If you're there, please hunker down
If you're ordered to evacuate
You best get out of town
Don't risk your lives and families
By keeping them in place
Irma's out to get you
To destroy your home and base.
Things are not worth dying for
Not worth the thought to stay
May not be here tomorrow
For not leaving home today
I pray for all Floridians
Who are waiting for the beast
We still don't know direction
She could be moving West or East
2
In the deep bowels of winter
coldness shocks the system
all fauna and floral devoid
of any warmth to survive
in deep freeze weather
Cold allows nothing to melt
throwing hot water in air
will turn it into air crystals
before hitting the ground
In the deep bowels of winter.
Your breath becomes short
In the bowels of winter
and nostrils feel pinched
cheeks have a rosy glow
frostbite looms in a minute or so.
Sounds of footsteps crunch
upon the white frozen snow
you seek warmth instead of frostbite
in the bowels of winter
you have nowhere to go.
Dreaming of spring
white beaches in the sand
in the bowels of winter
thoughts of warmth
are always on the mind.
I love you in the morning hours,
When your hair is all a mes.
I love you when you take a shower,
And use all the hot water in your forgetfullness.
I love you at nootime break,
When I stop to eat my lunch.
I love you when you made a mistake,
And put tea in my thermos instead of punch.
I love you in the evening time,
When you want to be in my company,
I love you when you confess your crime,
Taping over my football with those soaps you see.
I love you despite all your little mistakes,
Since the day those wedding bells chime.
And admist all of these headaches,
I'll still love you till the end of time.
Saving memories about Mom
(Rub Boards, Bluing & Homemade Lye Soap)
By: Tom Wright
1/2/02
My half century old recollections
of a #2 galvanized tub,
When in use
it covered all four burners on the fire.
With homemade lye soap and a brass ridged board,
the household's clothes she'd scrub.
Doing laundry most every day
sure must have made Mom tire.
We lacked hot water in the house
for use by day or night,
So from this tub's steaming water,
boys bathed, and dad shaved.
A bluing bottle on a shelf nearby,
kept things smelling fresh, and color, white;
so with bleached white "punching stick" in hand,
Mom slaved.
Then, as for the time for ironing
she seemed to find no halt,
Always accomplished with a low tech iron,
referred to as "sad".
It too, was heated on the fire,
and she would periodically rub with salt.
Making this chore time consuming,
and for mom, equally bad.
If you're a woman who don't understand this,
chances are you didn't experience this.
For this, thank God.
a Minnesotan
tosses hot water in air —
the wind-driven steam
1/30/2019
Jordholmen’s public bath
Back in the days of yore, few people had a shower unit they might have had bathtub that was used once a week when the whole family bathed and the loser was the dad usually with daughters by then the water in the tank was tepid
I friend of mine told of a public bathhouse, near the docks, where one could have shower in cubicle, get a towel and a bar of soap
We ran never walked back then to the bath house called Jordholmen, I didn’t have money for cuibcle, but the lady said I could share a shower with my friend, but she only gave us on towel and one bar of soap; well as a capitalist his used the towel first, but that is nothing new
I came quite attached to this bath house, it was a great change to have wash in a bucket of warm water in the living room by the fire, or in the kitchen in the days of May; we have lost hot water in our house in Cascais, my wife despairs for me it is like the old days warming water cleaning bits and pieces in front of the fire