TEMPEST IN A TEAPOT
H. W. Bryce
A disagreement is a tempest in a teapot
A fight, a murder, is a storm
An argument over little things is but a high wind
Blowing and can be measured as a norm.
To not forgive is to stir the tempest, blow the waves
Higher, over the rim of the tea cup.
To harbor a grudge is to leave the tea leaves
A mess in the bottom of the cup, your fortune
Too confused to read. Be calm. Make a better
Cup of tea.- stir gentle tea in pot, be sure
It settles quiet in the teacup.
Yes.
Life is a tempest in a teacup,
It’s either boiling hot or growing
Cold and you become either
Meek or wild. Sometimes a cold
wind blows, and who knows,
you might be that tempest;
and sometimes that cloud of
hot steam may soothe you and
you might be tempted to lay
back from life for a while.
In the scheme of Eternity,
Life is but a blink; long time
To us, an iota, a mote in the
Eye of Infinity. Life goes on,
But not for us. Invest wisely
In the short time that you have.
Love well, give generously,
Take only what you need and pay it on.
Live with respect for all,
Dignity for self and others,
Leave a lively legacy.
And all the while, ride the waves
Of this tempest in the little teapot of life.
A cup of tea, a quiet hour,
Alee of the tempest storm.
Such respite ought to be
absolute daily norm,
For sure enough another
Storm is absolutely sure to come.
Ride the storm.
A tempest in a teacup is no excuse
To cut the ties that bind. You may
Disagree without drawing out the knives.
Take is all as a great adventure
And ride those stormy waves to
The ultimate shore, the Cove of Peace.
So go ahead, share a cuppa,
A pact of peace and tranquility.
