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Best Laundry Poems

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New Laundry Poems

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THE LAUNDRY LIST by Robles, E.P.
Three Men in the Laundry by Stroh, Uwe
Laundry Day by Duggan, Vera
DIRTY LAUNDRY by Lee, Jeffrey
Dirty Laundry by A , SKAT
Hopelessly Awaiting For Laundry Day by RINALDI, RUDOLPH
Global Laundry by Dillenbeck, Gerald
LAUNDRY, SPRING THINKINGS by Rogers BLK PANTHER, VAL BROOKLYN
Self-Service Laundry by Dillenbeck, Gerald
Why Husbands Never Do Laundry by Camp, Elton

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The Best Laundry Poems

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VOICE IN HIDING



Hiding here inside my closet, I feel safe in the dark knowing on a pile of sheets lies my very psyche; it's only a thought, yet I am unhurt among drawers… so I curl and stare blank, imbibing bits of gentle murmurings that whisper on hangers as they sway with the lint...I strain to listen but prickly voices rush out of reach from the sleeves of a night like a conversation behind closed doors… I hear yet can't quite grasp what my heart wants to say in low dips ; like a tremolo carrying mould of twilight... it chants all sermons of a Sunday church bell speaking in tongues I knew once...long ago. The moon slices the folds around me in black suds washing a laundry of venting desire, only to find myself trapped in pins…I feel a stab, a grating chill: perhaps, I have no language when no one wants to listen.
Favorite Contest of Casarah Nance Posted 1/27/2014


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

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Dirty Laundry

(She's Got Cooties)

Bitter every night, she speaks of another man
In dialogues, she rips and shreds my brothers sheets
Her moves are naught more than an exposed wound 
Riding dreams with no thought to spare 
With eyes, that lie every night,
Even, I believe every word from her prune lips

Silent she auctions words into the breeze
My brother's heart is so brittle, it hurts
She is lying, he's dying, a fool just to feel complete
At this point he believes, she was kidnapped by apes
She's not the kind of wife that sit on a trophy case
Once she removes the makeup, her face is gone
She is gone, gone, gone, 

A smile mocking infidelity, 
I scream, I want to beat her brains in
My brother begs her to rest, he prays
His wife will wash her dirty mouth
A kiss that hurts as she takes the air away, 
Pouring guilt, pretending it's his fault
After every sucker punch this past month
She left while he slept
A wicked in law, with no comparison
Breathing luscious sperm, she's a worm
Vacuuming another man's dream, 
She is gone, gone, gone, 

A weak link, wasting his time loving her
His heart murdered 19 years ago
My brother holds on to plain dumb hope
In hopes, she might stay longer than 3 days
His dreams are sweet, innocent and failed, 
Yet he won't stop dreaming of her loving lips
Heating up to nothing when she's not there
She is gone, gone, gone, 

Sometimes I just sit and wonder 
What sort of man, sits awake with his eyes shut
Daydreaming of a long life dream
Then I realize if he can dream
Why Can't I   

~Trashed #2, sponsor, Broken Wings~
9-22-15
Skat


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015

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A Woman's Work Is Never Done

"A Woman's Work Is Never Done",
a phrase that's often heard.
There's a lot of truth that's hidden,
just in those few words.

She has to cook and clean the house
and get her youngsters off to school.
She does the laundry and the shopping
and teaches kids the "Golden Rule".

She drives them to the movies
and attends their school events.
She satisfies her husbands needs,
her life is real intense!

She asks for little in return,
she just does what must be done.
She feels it's all the woman's job,
and sometimes, it's even fun!

So kudos to those women.
Let's stand and give a toast.
They accomplish all these many tasks,
for the folks that they love most.

Next time the phrase is uttered,
"A Woman's Work Is Never Done",
pray that God will bless them all,
each and every one!

Many thanks to all you ladies.
God bless each and everyone of you.





Copyright © RALPH TAYLOR | Year Posted 2011

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PHEW WHAT'S THAT SMELL

A smell permeates through the house I’m convinced it must be house mouse I hunt high and then I hunt low But the source of the smell it won’t show I get down on my hands and my knees The dirt and the dust make me sneeze The pungent smell makes me feel sick Burn scented candles right down to the wick Now I have a sad look on my face The origin of the smell I can’t trace Get some cheese and lay it on a trap Wait for the jaws of the trap to go snap But the cheese remains where its put The jaws of the trap don’t snap shut Found hidden in the huge laundry box An old pair of my son’s cheesy socks! Smelly socks are confined to the bin Now I can say to my guests 'please come in'! 13th January 2015 Fictional write for Humor Contest!!! Sponsor Carol Eastman ~awarded 1st place~


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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What It Is To Be A Mommy

I have the house to clean
but i don't know where to start
it seems as if a tornado came
and tore it all apart

it was my two year old little girl
with no attention span for toys
she dumps out all the Lego's
and throws them to make noise

her bath toys are floating
in her puppy's water bowl
her daddy's shoes stick to the floor
from her bubblegum on the sole

my laundry became her dress up clothes
even my Sunday dress
i had no time to hang them up
now my clothes are a mess

every drinking cup is dirty
with a juice of a different kind
i was going to clean up under the couch
but i'm afraid of what i'll find

her shirt is covered in peanut butter
her hands are a chocolate smear
when i went to wash her in the sink
she splashed soap up on the mirror

now soon it's time for dinner
but i cannot find her chair
i found it in the laundry room
now how did it get in there?

spaghetti sauce is in her hair
corn kernels speckle the floor
i'm losing all my patience
I can't take it anymore

i clean her hair and brush her teeth
now she is asking for ice cream
i shut my eyes and count to three
and try so hard not to scream

every day is the same kind of crazy
and i don't know what to do
but every night it makes me smile
when she says "goodnight mama.. I love you"



Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2014

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This laundry never ends

Oh laundry, how relentless you are in this house,
It’s as if I were a polygamist’s spouse.

By: Sabina Nicole


Copyright © Sabina Nicole | Year Posted 2011

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A Little House of Memories

It was a lovely little house.

Built of white painted timber,

with a gabled roof clad in green tin,

it had never been a rich person's house.

It was her house. 

And driving up to park outside it,

each time I went there, 

was like the beginning of a new adventure.

I would always enter by the rickety side gate

and walk through that small garden she tended to on weekends, 

in the hope that one day it might become beautiful.

The back door gave entry to her tiny kitchen where,

sometimes she would be,

baking scones or some other treat for her and me

to have later with some coffee or cheap red wine.

It wasn't a well designed house.

The bathroom and lavatory and laundry

weren't where you might expect.

And most rooms were very small. 

But for the living cum dining room.

And her bedroom. 

I never counted all the rooms in that house.

I'm not certain I even saw all of them.

But all of those I did see 

were furnished and decorated with pieces that she

had shopped for at garage sales

and in second hand shops.

Except for those things she'd made herself.

There were pictures she had painted,

and other hand crafted knick-knacks.

And some bottles filled 

with interesting vegetable matter

embalmed in colourful oils and such.

It was a small house and a little quaint.

But beautiful.

And warm. 

Her bedroom was of a good size 

and her bed was large and sumptuous,

with a profusion of richly coloured cushions and pillows.

We'd discovered one another in that large bed,

in that good sized bedroom,

in that warm little house,

that still warms me with it's memories. 

For there was nothing inside that house

that she had not chosen.


Copyright © Red OMara | Year Posted 2013

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Cleaning Solution

Sticky smears on the table top.
on the couch spilled soda pop
one chewed up shoe and one flip-flop
I’m doomed to clean this mess non-stop
            
Greasy dog bones gone astray
found buried in the rug today
the hamster made a getaway
where he’s gone it’s hard to say.

The shower drain is plugged, I swear
the tub has grout and needs repair
dirty laundry everywhere.
it really is a mess out there.

Under beds dust bunnies show
all closets are on overflow
the fridge is packed with things that grow
dishes clog  the sink, I know.

Spaghetti sauce dumped on the floor
12 eggs broke, need I say more
fingerprints on every door
this place,  a never-ending chore

Just when I think things can’t get worse
the leaking fish tank cracked and burst
40 gallons was dispersed
I think this house is cursed.

In every corner, ledge and groove
dirt and grim must be removed
there’s one solution I approve
pack your things, we’re going to move!



Liz Relly – 3/06/2012
“Cobwebs and Dust”  Contest (new start)


Copyright © Liz Labadie-Reilly | Year Posted 2012

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LOVE IS LIKE .....

LOVE IS LIKE.........................

Love is like a pair of shoes!
Easy to abuse, or tossed in the trash when over used.

Love is like fire,
soon you'll get burn, or the flames will just simply turn off!

Love is like a car,
always finding ways to get it fixed, or searching for a better one!

Love is like a calendar,
changing days, weeks in 12 months, with resolutions never accomplished!

Love is like dirty laundry, you put it to the side!

Love is like a song, winds up all kinds of emotion before it ends!

Love is like a teacher, never appreciated!

Love is like dirt, easy to step on, or sweep away!

Love is like make up, easy to remove with tears!

Love is like a battery, draining all it's juice till it runs out!

Love is like a model, full of $h*t!

Love is like a Doctor, dumping hurting news with a cost!

Love is like a remote control, to many buttons to push!

Love is like the universe, confusing without knowing what's out there!

Love is like power, to hard to handle!

Love is like a fart, it really stinks!

Love is like a coloring book, scribbling pages to get it over with!

Love is like a flower, that will die eventually!

Love is like an egg, one way, or another it has to break or rot!

Love is like a shadow, it only happens with light!

Love is like a roach, waiting to get crushed!

Love is like a unicorn, does it even exist!

Love is like a heart beat, easy to stop!


By; p.d.
**********(LMFAO)*************** 
I think I had to much fun demoting love.
...........Instead Of promoting (LOL)........

Love is like wow! if you really must know!


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

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A Day In My Life

 
Not sure what I do but I sure am exhausted at the end of the day, so I decided to think about it and made this list . . . I sleep (not enough, probably) I eat to much, sometimes Write poetry that sooths my soul (every day) Print out and file said poetry Spend too much time on poetry soup (reading and commenting) Love it, love it, my safe haven forever Work (gurrrrrrr) honestly my job is too stressful Watch way too much TV Check out Facebook Watch Utube videos Listen to the news, Local, Canadian, World Play with my cat, oh, that I like, here kitty, kitty Read the newspaper Cook a meal and invite a friend, sometimes Work on my scrap book (endless project) Sew, well I have the sewing machine ready for action Go for a walk with my camera(new hobby) Talk to my friends and family each day Take a walk to art gallery for inspiration Do the dishes Tidy up my nest (my sister says I made a nest for myself) Take a bubble bath or shower Wash my long hair (many steps involved, girls understand that) Listen to music (and dance around) Water my wilting plants Meditate Read Put the rugs back in place, (stop it Pearl Smudges) Have a nap Sometimes, I make jewellery Look at my clothes, why not Laundry if I feel strong Sweep and dust the nest Drink tea or perhaps a café I have been known to have a chocolate bar at 3 pm Feed Pearl Smudges some sardines (stinky) Clean her litter box (yukky) Re-arrange my jewellery (means put it away) Iron a uniform for next day (nurse) Think and ponder life in general Sometimes, often, I go shopping for stuff Go for a coffee with my cell phone Look in the mirror and decide make-up is needed Tidy up my desk of dictionaries and papers and cups Take out the garbage (how can one girl have so much) Stand and look at my art hanging on the wall Recall memories with tears (not a day goes by) Re-arrange the furniture, it never seems right Just sit and relax Well, very sure there must be more but now I know why I am exhausted, at the end of each day, however, I would not change one thing . . . _____________________ April 27, 2015 List Submitted to the contest, Today I Accomplished, sponsor Sara Kendrick First Place Poem Of The Day, April 29, 2015


Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

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A Country Song Gone all Wrong

I want so bad in Casarah’s pants
She said I had to offer up some romance
Off we went to a local dance
I bought her a flower, a beer, and a Big Mac too
She said not quite enough but it will have to do

So in my truck that has no doors
I apologized and said no seat, its on the floor
She smiled and sat, I gathered in anticipation
Of having me in her bedroom a waiting
Little did I realize I'd wish to be vacating

We arrived at her home, at half past twelve
She said grab a beer, cause my hubby is here
I said what the hell, your hubby you say?
She said, why yes where else would he stay?
So I grabbed a beer thinking ok this is a wee bit queer

I was confused, I will tell you that
Her hubby smiled at me like a dirty rat
He had some rope and a little duct tape
This sure wasn’t what I figured on this ol date
From bad to worse, I resigned myself to fate

She calmly said, what could you have possibly thought?
I brought you here, for our pleasures of naught
We will tie you up and start the game
We are the masters, and you have no claim
Now what’s a little pain? so please, don’t try to abstain

Tied and bound what could I do?
They had their pleasures without further adieu
I did the dishes, the vacuuming and the laundry too
Not an easy task tied in ropes by those two
Broken and tormented and tired as heck

I soon plotted my escape up north to Quebec
This Gothic nightmare must come to and end
Else these two satins will drive me round the bend
So I unbound the ropes holding me so tight
Managed to escape into the dark frigid night


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

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Drivin' Along A Country Road

When I need an uplift for my weary soul and to clear my muddled mind.
I slowly cruise along a country road to see what treasures I might find.
I leave behind the frenzied traffic on the four-lane interstate,
To enjoy bucolic vistas along a gravel road, my languid soul to sate.

I see old barns with Mail Pouch Tobacco ads now faint due to age,
And remnants of Burma Shave signs with their charmin' adage.
Stately homes with white picket fences grace the country road,
With roses of every hue surroundin' emerald lawns all neatly mowed.

I cross a rickety wooden bridge 'neath which country boys are fishin',
And for long ago summer days of feckless youth, it gits me to wishin;!
A lady waves to me as she hangs her laundry on the clothesline to dry.
A sign on the old country store reads, 'Wave If You Can't Stop By!'

Farmers on John Deere tractors wave as they tend their fields of grain.
They sure kick up lots of dust and I reckon they're prayin' for some rain.
I rolled down the windows to savor the wonderful scent of new-mown hay,
And slow to let an Amish family in their buggy move along the way.

Fat cattle graze on lush meadows, each with a meanderin' stream.
Horses gaze at me over fences as they look askance and dream.
I loathe interstates where folks think they're in the Indy 500-mile race.
I prefer old country roads where life is enjoyed at a much slower pace!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2015

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Maybe The Last Letter

This may be the last letter I write to you; I am so very tired inside, exhausted...as I lay in bed I’m pondering things. When you feel like you're at death’s door, it’s not the things you've done well that matter, it’s the mistakes in life you ponder. To be honest though, if there was only one thing I did right, it was the day I met you. When love finds you, you want to keep it close forever and ever and ever and never let it go. I’m afraid to go to sleep because of the uncertainty of tomorrow, but I need to set my fears aside…so I am writing. I should not be afraid because you are already there, where ever there is, but I do remember trembling at your touch and the sound of your voice; I'm still in love with you and I miss you so very much. My prayer is before I close my eyes that I did not forget something—I know that is silly. I did make the house payment, the dishes are washed, the laundry is done, and yes I took out the trash. I let the girls out to go potty, and made sure they will be taken care of if I don't wake up.  They're sleeping on the floor by my side, they have been staying close to me tonight. So I guess I’ll put down my pen and take my chance at sleep, but if I could have just one wish, I wish I could see your face once again with those beautiful deep blue eyes I used to get lost in. Goodnight my love, maybe we can meet some where tonight, I love you.

Edward J Ebbs - 9/13/2014



Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2014

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ROBOT

 Robot 

Tin-can man. 
Input, circuit, and overdrive.
Shadow of the future and the past.
Movement hidden, you are not alive.
Programs burned and running fast.

What else can you do?
Wakening up every morning,
and not able to read the news.
Passing a breeze God gave you.
Barely feeling the I love you~s.
Your data has been set to self destruct!
Walking around all confused.
While your memory is set on stuck.

A heart not made to rust.
Hanging laundry out in the rain.
Lazy technician you can't trust.
Look what he's made out of you.

Ready to blow your thrust!

Compute- abort- system to self destroy.
Restoring the joy sucked out of you.
Input: input: information .
Wipe out the old, store in new.
Delete all files to recycle bin.

System reboot to life again.
With a new program that reads:
Feeling like a human once again.
       (This robot is on)
      .(self shut down!)
        
        P.D. was here!


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

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Empty Bedrooms

I walk past empty bedrooms that once held my boys
The beds made so perfect, the absence of noise
Books there on the book shelf and not upon the floor
No ear-splitting music, no slamming the door

It’s eerily quiet now these once busy dens
These bunkers of bustle with brothers and friends
They’re off to college now the closets are clean
They only come home now on days in between

The weeks of the study the homework and toil
With loads of their laundry all dirty with soil
These nice empty bedrooms so tidy and neat
Just aren’t the same in their pristine retreat

As when the sneakers are thrown in a corner
The fridge it is drained like an unwilling donor
The noise and the smell of exercised teens
Showing off muscles with biceps and spleens

Banging a cupboard while toasting some bread
At three in the morning before heading to bed
Now some dorm at the coast, in some far away place
Or corner of frat-house who’s presence they grace

Our bedrooms are empty the rooms nice and quiet
The sheets all in place and the fridge on a diet
But once in a while it all comes to life
Things they are back to the brotherly strife

Rooms not so tidy and sharp as a knife
As when we’re alone…just me and my wife

David Kettler 


  


Copyright © david kettler | Year Posted 2015

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Honestly Speaking

I walk the streets by myself
but find myself laughing 
and I don’t feel so alone anymore...

Could be that the breeze tickled
the laughter out of me
but I’ll be honest…
it was your corny joke the other time--
amazing how I just laugh so much when I am with you

I’m doing my laundry
but find myself singing
and I don’t feel like complaining at all...

Could be that bubbles popping
reminded me to burst into song
but I’ll be honest…
it was smelling your perfume--
sure made me delirious enough to sing

I’m cooking dinner
but find myself burning my fingers
and I don’t feel the pain so much...

Could be that the oil 
wasn't too hot after all
but I'll be honest...
it was hearing your voice on speaker--
it warmed me all over and made me forget the pain

I walk the streets by myself
but find myself crying 
and I just feel so impossibly alone...

Could be that it was 
just one of those days
but I'll be honest...
reality finally sunk in--
crashing into me that you were really gone







Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2010

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The Monster In The Closet

Lights turn off
and a small child whimpers in fear
afraid of the monster in his closet
or the eyes under his bed.
 
He cries silently,
attempting bravery for the first time
or he wails, cowardly
never trying something new and courageous.
 
His mother comes to aid him
and make sure he's alright
but i know deep inside her 
she's a little afraid of the dark at night.
 
The unknown of a robber in the closet
the killer under the bed
each thought terrifies her
spins in terror in her head.
 
But other fears take priority:
the unpaid bills, the unfolded laundry
the dinner to be made 
and the thought of her little boy in danger,
 is the thought that makes her the most afraid.


Copyright © MaryEllen Gozzo | Year Posted 2014

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The Media

Reporting the news has changed so much from the past
I cannot even remember when I heard a good news story
It started out years ago slow, but has it ever grown
I wonder how long this type of thing will last?
They say that it sells, blood, guts and all the gory
Is that really the reason, if the truth was really known

Graved diggers they are, they are digging graves deep
Showing "dirty laundry", in hopes that it will never come clean
Reporting the rotten, no more than a scandal sheet
Make an innocent person guilty, so they will never sleep
Twisting word, so they do not sound mean
But like hungry dogs fighting over a piece of meat

Freedom of speech, a right that we should all hold dear
Freedom of the press, to inform the public, not to destroy
Journalism with integrity, the ways that it used to be
To make facts available, not every effort to smear
To read in the morning, sit and enjoy
While we still have this freedom and are still free

A right that should be used, not abused
Or something that government want you to say, because it is politically correct
Something that makes common sense, not cause mass hysteria
So that all can understand, not be confused
One day this right could be taken away, we cannot forget
This what I think that we need in our media


Copyright © Danny Nunn | Year Posted 2009

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Women's Rules For Men -Not a Poem-

#1 Put the toilet seat down. What woman wants to end up falling into the toilet in the middle of the night? #2 Stop changing the channel. Believe me guys, when women are trying to watch a soap opera, you best leave the remote alone. #3 Put your own dirty clothes in the laundry. I hate picking up crusty socks. #4 Stop farting at the table. Do you mind? I'm trying to eat. #5 Excuse yourself when you burp. And they say our children have to have manners. #6 Roll your own damn cigarette. When was the last time you rolled me one? #7 Clean your messes up. Trust me guys, you're a bunch of slobs. #8 Don't call me stupid. We women are just as smart, if not smarter than you are. #9 Move out of my way. When a woman is trying to get something done, the man always stands in the middle of the room. #10 Turn the music down. I know you guys love your music loud, but sheesh! #11 Get out! The least you guys could do is give us a little privacy in the bathroom. #12 Do it yourself. I'm sure you guys are smart enough to do things on your own. #13 Get it yourself. Guys, get your lazy, fat butts off the couch and make your own sandwich. #14 Use your manners. We don't like being told what to do without a simple please and thank you. #15 Take your boots off at the door. Women hate it when men carry dirt into the house after just cleaning the floors. #16 Shut up! When we are trying to watch a movie, that means we are trying to hear it too. Copyright © Cynthia Jones Sept.24/2004 I know some of these sound mean. No offense guys.


Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015

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The Four Horsemen

I saw the Four Horsemen -
the famous apocalypse guys.
They rode silently past neatly folded laundry,

They approached me in silence,
their breathe a rye and meadow wind.
Each of them in turn,

gliding ghostlike past where I sat,
watching steam on the mirror
grow cold.

War had no use for me,
past my prime, bum knee.
Not even as cannon fodder.

Famine had little to work with,
I had known hunger, want, poverty,
nothing he had could scare me.

Pestilence likewise dismissed me out of turn,
for which I’ll be forever grateful,
probably too sedentary to spread the touch.

And Death, well, we all must dance,
but today is not the day, now not the hour,
Death merely bid me good day.

And then they were gone, their vacancy tangible,
while I decided to look up embolisms or strokes,
trying to close this doorway into myself.

Until I saw the tracks in the talcum powder,
heard the soft whicker of horse,
and tasted their life on my tongue.


Copyright © Christopher Reilley | Year Posted 2014

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So Much For Chores

The kitchen radio rumbles heavy drumbeat,

outside, rain pecks out its staccato

on the porch.

Stirring fragrant coffee,

I ponder doing dishes, starting laundry,

pause to glance at him.

Across from me,

his eye-crinkling smile

liquefies all my resolve.

Oh, listen

to that insistent rain

ans heartbeats drumming.


Copyright © AUDREY CAREY | Year Posted 2011

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Today at the Top

Yesterday I was at the bottom
The dank, dirty bottom.
The rubbish heap
Of wasted dreams
And failed attempts
And hearts depleted of hope.
There I lay
Wallowing in despair
Submerged in sadness
Clinging to the filthy ground
Like an insect.
Yesterday—I was there.

Last night I was in the middle
The vague, vacuum middle
The empty space
Between the beginning and the end
Where you find…nothing
But air
There I was
Hanging in nothingness
Meandering, floundering
Aimlessly searching
For what couldn’t be found
Like a piece of laundry
Forgotten on the line
Neither this nor the other


Just…there
Last night—that was me.

Today I am at the top!
The beautiful, glorious top
Where idle thoughts and fancies
Take shape and become reality.
Where your name is not forgotten
But engraved on stone,
Your words everlasting,
Your face a permanent picture,
In the hall of winners.
Winners.
Today I am a winner
Not lying at the bottom
Of floating in between
But dancing on rainbows 
Being free—being seen
Today is for the winners
Today is for me.


Copyright © Susan Piwang | Year Posted 2013

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I sold my Mum on EBay

I have sold my mum on E.Bay. 
My god my dad was mad. 
He can"t believe i did it. 
He thinks it"s really bad. 

As to why i did it. 
There"s reasons plain to see. 
My mother is on my back. 
Always hassling me. 

She complains about my trainers. 
She says they really stink. 
Moans about the dishes. 
That i leave in the sink. 

I never make my bed right. 
She gets me in a quandary. 
States that i should help. 
To do the household laundry! 

Then every Sunday morning. 
She really goes to far. 
I have to help my dad. 
Wash the family car. 

Yes i sold my mum on E.Bay. 
Then looked to far off lands. 
To find a good replacement. 
Post up the wedding bands. 

Dad wont be to angry. 
I will soon get him on side. 
Because i have sent to Thailand. 
For a brand new blushing bride. 

At first it was ok. 
We got on really well. 
Then we discovered something. 
That i can hardly tell. 

I hope we get a refund. 
I still have the receipt. 
Let me tell you something. 
There has been a big deceit. 

It started in the bedroom. 
I had to get a fan. 
To bring my poor old dad round. 
Our Thai bride was a man! 

I want  my mother back. 
No matter what the price. 
I am fed up eating chicken. 
Along with Thailand rice! 



"Will you get out of bed, 
It is a brand new day, 
It is nearly twenty past." 
I hear my mother say. 

I start to drift awake. 
Then i start to beam. 
Relief it surge"s through me. 
It was a nasty dream. 

My mother cant explain. 
Why i changed my ways. 
I"m really very helpful. 
Not like the bad old days. 

But if i am really honest. 
I suppose i am quite bad. 
I have just logged on to E.Bay. 

To try and sell my DAD!


Copyright © ned flanders | Year Posted 2009

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Any Ideas?

Well what should I write about tonight?

Should I write about what I did today?
Should I write about my shoelaces?
Should I write about doing laundry?
Or Should I write about what I'd like for breakfast tomorrow?

Maybe I should ramble about how the school day went.
Maybe I should complain about my room being dirty.
Maybe I should name off the food in my kitchen.
Or Maybe I should just talk about my hair.

I wanna talk about what I'm learning on guitar.
I wanna speak out about my inner issues.
I wanna yell a crazy rant.
I just wanna blow off some steam.

I wish I could take a bath with a girl right now.
I wish I would've finished my homework.
I wish I could shoot ice from my finger tips
I just wish I had some soda to quench my thirst.

There are so many things I could say right now!
But I just can't seem to decide.
I'd probably get some pretty weird looks
If I told you what's all bottled up inside.

I'm everywhere and nowhere in my head
Ideas and thoughts bouncing left and right.
Too bad I can't seem to think of anything.
I was really wanting to get some feelings out tonight.

Do I need to shave in the morning?
Should I go to the music store after school?
Why didn't I grab matching socks?
What does the weekend have in store?

I wish I had something to write about.
Any Ideas?

Eh, I'll think of something tomorrow night.


Copyright © Captain Dan | Year Posted 2009

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Sick Days

Sticky gooey sickly.
That feeling you feel,
When all you feel,
Is that miserable sick you've known for years.
These days make you want to just lay down,
Burrito yourself in a blanket,
Sleep for days, 
Or read many books, 
While drinking your favorite tea in your favorite cup.
If only those days could be so simple.
Then there comes the priorities.
WoRk, WoRk, ScHoOl, LaUnDrY, ClEaNiNg.
Today is definitely a sick day,
But It's not the type of stay home sick day. 
I have a headache.


Copyright © Autumn Patrick | Year Posted 2016