Poetry Blogs (cup)

Happiness, in hands for you.

If you decided, not to be sad.

As a cup of water, to drink.

To clean your thoughts, to be glad.

Sadness, does not need to broach.

It always knocks, worried heart.

But Happiness, with a golden coach.

Asks, to ride happiness cart.

The Brain is yours, “to make use”.

Positively, think of your own.

Feel your value, never abuse.

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It takes years of pondering to find the right cup;

the right shape and weight, the pattern, the handle.

It is not just a drinking vessel

It is a portal to a world of relaxation.

Maybe I’m wrong and it is just a cup

but I’d be lost without my favourite.

She has picked me up when I’ve felt alone

even with her chipped rim

she makes the perfect brew.

...

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'

I may not be

your cup of tea

but I am your

bottle of rum --

most definitely...

so ease up that grip:

Stop strangling my neck.   

Let My liquid conflagration

scorch your lying condescension 

again and again and again.... without fail.   

If you but remember to be true  

to what lurks deep within you

I will assail your do...

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Up to a point
pliant leaves will seep
into all its waters
until the cup overflows

so much as to stain
the meticulously starched table linen.
Then we shall face with reckoning
its true substance!

`

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