"Morning Delight"

A little fun

February morning the coals burned low

I slid from my covers to feel their warm glow

 

With my eyes still shut and back in an arch

Off to the John I set off to march

 

By the mirror I stopped to sneak a peek

Of the wasted body girls used to seek

 

But on this winter’s morning the sun shown bright

I stared in amazement barely containing my delight

 

Of all the great wonders on this world where we are bound

My Dingle Dangle dangled a little closer to the ground

 

A sly smile crept across my unshaven face

To the toilet I quickened my pace

 

With increasing urgency I hurried across the floor

Only to find that someone had locked the door

 

Lost and bewildered I knew not what to do

With insides clenching out the back door I flew

 

The cold blast quickly took my breath

I thought for sure I had finally met my death

To my knees I fell and relief flowed free

Never had I been so glad to take a pee

 

As the cold air bit my naked skin

And Reality quickly began to set in

 

I rushed back to my house only to find

That the door had been locked

Again from the inside

Author's Note

Thought I would take a new direction and see the funnier side of life

Reviews

[Kathy Van Kurin]

James A.
Well. Not taking to seriously the need to maintain a morning routine; dependent on whether doors are opened or closed. Yikes! Life can get complicated very quick. Our bodies are such high maintenance. Availability of a toilet is utmost. I found myself thinking about how people use to use outhouses. That's just what was done. I am glad you were able to get back inside and not freeze to death. Your further writing shows your survival.........Blessings on a a fun and light hearted poem! kathy

[Lydia Shutter]

Laughing here. Locked out first from the bathroom and then from the house. The imagery brought us to the scene and, again, your sense of rhythm and rhyme is flawless. You put a smile on my face tonight. Lydi**

[James]

Glad you liked it. It's my personal favorite.

[barleygirl]

I thought for sure you were going to end this poem by comparing the enhanced length noticed earlier, with the shriveled mess at the end. But your ending surprised me. As for us women, we do not celebrate when our old boobage hangs lower & lower. I could really relate to your poem, living in an always-cold cabin with a woodstove. My toilet seat feels like an outhouse, no matter how much my fire is roaring! So I know the bracing feelings too well. Thanks for the snicker & grin (((HUGS)))

[James]

I tried hard to end it with the shriveled mess, but just couldn't make it work. After all the depressing stuff, I thought a turn to the funny was in order. I'm glad it made you laugh.

[Woody]

haha and I'm glad you did, my friend. now this is what I'm talking about.
this never happened to me but I often had nightmares about it. particularly if you live in a dense neighbourhood with no privacy whatsoever.
nice, James, nice.

[James]

I knew you would like it, It's right up your ally.

[Woody]

absolutely, my friend :))))