Angry Kettles

 

Angry, blistering, snarling,

My kettle needs attending to,

It is screaming for my attention.

 

Inside it boils skin-burning

Frustrations

“Pour me out!” it cries,

Steam pouring from the only escape route.

 

I hurry to stop its ear-piercing screech,

Unsure of what it says about me…

Am I alleviating its pain?

Or assuaging my own?

 

*No pic today to go with this. Letting it speak for itself.

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Sing, Black Bird, Sing

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Sing, little Black Bird, sing your song,

Tell us all where we went wrong.

Sing, little Black Bird, tell us the truth,

How it all started in earth’s early youth.

 

Sing, little Black Bird, tell the awful tale,

How hate and violence tried to prevail.

But sing, little Black Bird, sing also of kindness;

Tell us of those others, our greatest and finest.

 

Sing, little Black Bird, tell us why

You wear those ribbons waving high.

Sing, little Black Bird, sing your song-

To come together is to be strong.

 

Sing, little Black Bird, sing to remember,

Those who were lost that mid-September.

Sing little Black Bird, never let us forget:

Hate and violence lead to regret.

 

*In remembrance for many things.