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Silver May 18
the steam of the shower holds your face
like a pillow.

pushing out the smog, clutter in your head
billowing around you and thawing out
the raw thoughts that you try to freeze over.

the endless patter of hot rain that
cleanses, but also
hurts
in that it's one of the only
honest sounds you'll ever hear
(outside of love.)

the moment you step out into the humid, mediated
atmosphere of a cooling room
the water dripping off your arms,
your hair,
your face,
making you anew.

but as everyone does, you wipe the mirror clear
to see your face, and know that despite life,
it's still you.

it changes you, yet proves your you-ness more than anything else.
M-E Apr 25
Dance! Dance! Forget the past
It will not change or last

And I did dance like there is no rule
I danced as a sane, as a fool

Made tiny steps as a child
And pranced as a fox in the wild

Danced the sultan swing
And the chicken flapping its wings

Dance forward and then backward
Danced like a pro, nah, awkward

I twisted and jumped
Dropped and stomped

Filled the dance floor with steam
Like a sweaty Choo Choo train
My dance was a gift, my night was a gain
I haven't dance in a long time. Lol. My cousin's wedding was a great opportunity to blow the steam after some "difficulties".
Sometimes, somethings might seem trivial but behind it a great message and purpose.

15-04-2019
Jenny Gordon Mar 10
I suppose we never are.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLVII)


As steam wafts up in whitish tendrils' pale
Dance, likeas figures which cavort from hence
In ghostly silence til the ether thence
Half swallows them--as spirits in betrayl
Taen into heaven ist?  Look past, t'avail
Me of the world beyond this window, whence
See how fir boughs nod to chill breaths for sense
While lo, the Maple's naked yet, calm frail.
This first cup black, we're being good Swedes I'm sure,
And savour all the more what Daddy'd brew
Upon that note.  Remember too as twere
My sister'n'law who'd drink joe like I knew
Old seasoned captains would:  black.  And in poor
Still voiceless naught, the radio chatters too.

09Mar19a
Having been told that good Swedes drink their coffee black, I cringed.  And my first sister-in-law was not at all Swedish either.  I prefer cream, NO sugar, though.
kk Feb 20
On days where salty tears lick my cheeks,
or they hide just behind the cages of my eyelids,
I feel full, not hollow.
Preferable, perhaps, to the emptiness found
in staring blankly at life and seeing
the still run down like paint and the moving brake like cars
all around, helpless to stop it
as a mind crumbles into broken acceptance.
But a cup can only hold so much.
A *** can rumble angrily on the stove for only
so long before its contents spill out,
slipping and darkening down the sides
before dying away against the heat below.
Sure, we're contained, maybe like tea kettles. But
all of us have holes that whistle,
a call to what stirs inside, and I
am no different.
Every day,
my small heart shivers and shakes,
petrified by even the idea of my own steam escaping.
It rattles at the threat of an exponential scream
of evaporated failures and aborted thought
wrapping itself around my tongue and teeth
before spilling out to float in the present air,
only to hang itself
like a fog over everyone's perceptions.
I guess that's the difference between us and tea kettles,
or cups or pots.
Water moves forever in its cycle,
falling down as rain, or snow, or sleet, or hail, or
rising up into the air to mesh with it seamlessly,
adapting beautifully to the pressures of its natural peers.
But water is not sentient. It does not remember its past,
does not consider its present or future.
Water speaks a language of unquestioned togetherness and
a blissful absence of mind.
Maybe our folly is memory.
Our puffs of commentary marinate on the brains of others,
and, maybe for the worse,
ourselves.
They float around in a haze of the brain,
eroding at our integrities,
some fogs never cycling out until we rattle
for the last time.
Unlike steam, unlike water, we ponder our past forms
and our personal sins sometimes forever
until we sizzle against time's heat,
burning out at the mercy of nature
and our own kettled minds.
Shadow Dragon Sep 2018
Glaring light
and white
bathtubs.
Steam and
high pitched
melodies.
Running water
spreading warmth
spreading legs.
Silky cloths
for the freshly
bathed human.
Confusion and
worried faces
all washed away
by lukewarm
bathtub water.
mjad Aug 2018
Nose below the water
Steam clouds my view
Before my eyes
my hands find you
Isaac Aug 2018
Cup
Impatiently sitting on the bench ahead
Cup stares at me as if wanting to be fed
So I grab Cup and find a boiling kettle
Fill Cup with water hoping it will settle
But Cup begins to steam and nag
So I search the cupboard for a tea bag
Choosing one from the others, I quickly drop it in
The water changing colours, makes me throw it in the bin
I think the dark stuff is something bad
And Cup seems to look pretty sad
So I try to swallow the black stuff away
But my method seems to make Cup dismay
Before I begin, something hot hurts my lip
I didn’t realise that Cup could nip
So I hurry towards the kitchen sink
Tip Cup upside down, before I can think
Cup throws up, being upside down
I forgot Cup got sick when moved around
So I put Cup back where he was
I can see that Cup feels better because
Cup is no longer steaming or spewing any more
Come to think of it, I don’t know why I touched Cup at all!
Written 8 August 2018
Devin Ortiz Jul 2018
Consequence is the Heart of Belief.
Whether a Truth .
Whether a Falsehood.
Whether Virtuous.
Whether Vice.
Conviction alters Reality.

Human existence is a stream of consequence.
Flowing through ebbs of Right and Wrong.
Of Heavy currents of deceit, which overflow the banks.
And pools of Stillness, in stagnant paradigms.

This Race of Fact and Fiction rampages.
The Powerful and the Hungry.
The Weak and the Proud.
All caught in the Tides of Creed.
An Undertow which swallows all.
Indiscriminate in its Finality.
icantbearmyself Jun 2018
I'm the steam
of a 3in1 coffee
pretending to be
real and strong

but I'm see through
as water
and weak as
the reef without
the waves
CautiousRain Apr 2018
You’re so lovely,
you warm me up like a kettle,
so don’t be surprised
when I look at you and whistle.
<3
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