My temper is short
The pressure is building
The temperature is rising
No relief from the weight
When it mounts
It’s felt in the body
From leg ache to back ache
It has real weight and pain
My mind filled with annoyance
About to explode any moment
Waiting for some relief
Enduring every last second
Relying on others to be saved
Screaming from every orifice
Begging for calmness and serenity
The mind attacking itself
From voices to actions
To long lost memories
The weight of this is drowning
Struggling to breathe
Think clearly
It has to end
The boiling point is nearly reached
Boiling and spilling isn’t an option
It can’t continue like this
The sweetness of the lips
How soft and tender there are
Is this love?
The melting of the heart
How eager and ready it is
Is this the one?
My soul mate,
Let those strawberries
Dip into that vanilla
Romantic it is
Let those berries
Melt into that cream
Secluded it is
Love can be wonderful,
The softness of the lips
How sweet and warm there are
Is this my cup of tea?
The caring of the heart
How strong and passionate it is
Is this the man?
My one and only
kettle of passion sings on the cooker...the white-hot intensity!
Date written: 12/30/2019
The kettle,
Sits and waits
Liquid state, a click, it's on
AWAKE
Like a dormant volcano ready to erupt, it's ALIVE
Turmoil is brewing.
The countdown has started
Panic-stricken I clear off the counter as it pulsates like the heart of a daredevil and maybe the kettle will ehhhh DETONATE
Oh I frantically search for the manual like a flesh eating cannibal,
Tick tock tick tock sounds the clock,
My head now a scene of mad confusion, as if my mind is a field and fans are ascending
Pure bedlam
Now in my limbs, I crouch find a half empty bottle of pimms
Cowar for cover
"Is it yet boiling point?" I ask myself
The fury of the kettle growing stronger and stronger like gods unleashing rage on an offending mortal
I cover my ears I'm drawn to tears
The sound of a steam of sneaky, slippery snakes echoes all around
My feet now on the ground thank god I'm alive
I need to revive my drooping spirit, I reach for the cup and Barry's Tea, the last two minutes of turmoil I need to clear it
I sip the tea it feels good inside me
Upon reaching boiling point it's the cure I'm sure you'll agree
Frustration level
Boiling point
Rather an understatement today
For each time I've sat
To write new works
My laptop does not play
On ten minutes
Off the next
My blood it starts to boil
I'm rather patient normally
But today it takes it's toil
Curser locks
And I can't get
to type another thing
Then adding insult further more
It turns self off
Just to ignore
Sore comment passed
As through teeth I grimace
And five hours on
I still try with it
To system restore
Love back in it!
My Boiling Point
I can Feel it swelling Up inside me,
Ready to come out,
Every word of It's almost True,
And you all should know that too,
I can Feel the Sap on the side of my cheeks,
Giving Up Hope so eaisly,
Somehow I pull through,
Why Won't anyone listen to me,
I can see them ignore me so clearly,
Should I stay here,
Should I walk away,
These people make me feel wrothless anyways,
I can never say the Wrong words right,
Or the right words wrong,
I'm So mixed up,
I'll Never belong.!!
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.