A Morning Poem Poem by elysabeth faslund
A Morning Poem
Eyes and feet on remote control,
Coffee pot(aka 'missile silo') activated.
Activated? I spelled it right?
Roosters all crowing
Under fog-shrouded trees.
Coffee is HOT! Singed tongue...
But, I can't speak yet, anyway.
No sun today...rain on the way.
My house! A bold, new territory
To be discovered...
Every morning...
Damned elves!
They could at least make coffee
For me,
Before disappearing, once again...
Every morning!
But, I usually wake up by tripping
Over a sleeping dog
Who licks the coffee off her fur.
Ack!
Good, better, Morning to you!
i usually wake up by tripping over the dog, pure, beautiful, poetic, you
Your morning poem is a tribute the mercy of coffee pot that has activated you! Enjoyed reading it.
After all this you still are so cheerful. Beginnings, beginnings - aren't they wonderful - sometimes.
as when fumes of coffee mingles with tunes of the dawn the poem courses through the pen looking to the tree bedecked by the blue of the hills as i am spelled bound by the beauty if ever be attuned to the resonance of eyes and foot, yet a exqusite in its excellence. i like it, with credit of 10+
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 11:58:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Those elves, my wife swears they exist. I myself have never seen one but then again I don't drink coffee because it doesn't mix well with Rum.