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Best Laundry Poems

Below are the all-time best Laundry poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of laundry poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Global Laundry by Dillenbeck, Gerald
LAUNDRY, SPRING THINKINGS by Rogers BLK PANTHER, VAL BROOKLYN
Self-Regenerative Laundry Service by Dillenbeck, Gerald
Why Husbands Never Do Laundry by Camp, Elton
Laundry Day by Daccary, Casper
Laundry Room Rules by bauer, ilene
Laundry: where do socks go by Gorlum, Gorlum
The Laundry by Kendrick, Sara
O' Laundry Day by Frampton, Mike
Ace Shirt Laundry by bauer, ilene

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The Best Laundry Poems

Details | Laundry Poem | |

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.
P D's Contest ' Best Poem of 2014' 1/27/2014

Copyright © nette onclaud

More great poems below...


Details | Laundry Poem | |

Passing of a Matriarch

The smell of cinnamon apple pie lingers in my mind my mouth still waters from her delicious homemade fudge I can hear faint giggles from the time we slid down the laundry chute those goodbye hugs I could never get enough of my heart cant help but cry so many happy memories entrenched inside my mind your spirit will live in me forever until the end of my time
**Dedicated to Grandma Gwendolyn Smith who passed on Friday at the age of 103**

Copyright © Tim Smith


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

AS TWELVE MONTHS CLOSE


I count my walks through herbs and shells never knowing how old bones can be fleshed from a heart bound on scrolls of endings, and here I am among rows of an orchard… feet like dust sanded by twelve months of famine and feast ; somehow the maple boughs wither from the laundry of evenings’ regret. Often times, like the gypsy rose, I climb into the lattice of my family tree smelling its tar and citrus that knit arms glossed by twilight’s love, then raked by froths of autumn’s debris. Closing a fence as another year shuts off, I am between silence and scream… eyes groaning with the music of an anonymous breeze sheltering a collected beauty of tragedy and the comedy of drama: trials pinned by veiled nights when kinship endures the flood of weather's hands. It is so, I mean, the certainty of taming the last ride before new seeds from a new year twirl upon unborn fruits… I disrobe the old bones to greet the unknown. .......................... "“In times of test, family is best.” – Burmese Proverb Carol Eastman's Enter The Best of 2014 Contest by nette onclaud 7/14/2014

Copyright © nette onclaud


Details | Laundry Poem | |

Twilight Hands

She hummed the dawning of the day
while spry hands bounced babies
Wielded a spatula with expeditious 
movements flipping pancakes onto a plate
Folded napkins at place settings

She was in full swing at noonday
as brisk hands folded lunchmeat and bread 
into sandwiches     Smoothed the creases 
from pages of homework     Kept the iron 
moving in a pendulum motion over 
the mounds of spanking clean laundry

She talked with her hands 
gesturing wildly with excitement 
Administered slaps to unruly kids with her hands
She took all gossip with a grain of salt 
Tossed a pinch over her shoulder 
with a cupped hand    just in case

With reverent hands and nimble fingers 
she daily turned the pages of the good book
unerringly finding the appropriate Bible verse 
Now a smattering of age spots dusts her smiling 
frail countenance aglow through paper-thin skin
And mother folds her twilight hands

Copyright © Monterey Sirak

More great poems below...


Details | Laundry Poem | |

FOR MEN ONLY TWO - girls, no peeking

Boys, we gotta have a chat. Maybe over your way things are where they’re at… just like you like ‘em! Oh, she brings your beer, scratches your ear, wiggles her rear… and things are really, really good! But be honest boys. Do you play with her toys and does she make...noise? The way you thought she would? I mean, when we guys do the laundry, isn’t it a joy fondling her big machines? Yeah...it may be a ploy:-( But really men... it’s a piece of cake. Put the dirties in the tank and take yourself a break! The buzzer rings the dinger dings, move ‘em to the dryer just be sure to take the frillies out... before they catch on fire! Remember what I said? It’s a piece of cake! Until you hear those dreaded words... which make the man-cave quake!!! “Did you FOLD the laundry, dear?” Honey!!! Sweetie!!! Darling!!! What about permanent press? What about those great big drawers? NO, honey...not yours! I mean the ones in the “amoire*.” (*Sometimes those fancy words work on ‘em, you know that!) Now be honest boys you’ve had the lesson too on how to fold those clothes, next to girls...it’s mystery number two. How come all the labels say wash in hot or cold? Use the bleach or don’t, but not a single BLEEPING word...on how to do the fold!!! So she always folds her clothes, her way, after I am through. Makes me feel quite manly, ‘cause I fold my clothes, my way... what else can I do? But when I don my T-shirts with those silly slogans on the rear the wrinkles I’ve created make my best lines disappear! Boys... We’ve got it figured out at our house I hope that you do too. btw...Those creases she insists upon? Give me a better view.

Copyright © John Wulf


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

Letting Go

       Letting Go  								
Mama I love you
While I open the door for him while he carries a laundry basket full of cloths
“Thank you mama, 
“I love you mama.”
While he goes out to his car to go to work at a prison as a prison guard, I say,
“Be careful,”
“I love you”
While I watch him walk out I shed a tear,
As I watch him walk off, I think of wishing he was small again so I could hold him and protect him of what is waiting for him out there in this world. 
But then I think of what I have been taught, Let him grow up and leave him in the Lords hand not mine.
I think of moments like this is when I fall little of God’s faith, 
And remember, to please trust in God and his Word, 
For my faith in Him has always guided me in my life. 
By Eve 
9-3-2014

Copyright © Eve Roper


Details | Laundry Poem | |

Lamp Of Genie

I'm a girl Of Hundred Wishes,
Will you grant me all these wishes?
May all my dreams come true,
Aladdin.I'm glad,I have 
a share Of Your Lamp too.

I'm a girl Of Hundred Wishes,
Sweep my floor and Wash my dishes!,
Bake my cakes, in the oven too.
Go to Work,Back Home ironing,
Doing Laundry,Cooking Stew,
Is that much to ask Of You?
 Dear Genie,Much more chores to do.

I'm a girl Of Hundred Wishes,
Roby Williams singing for me,
Enrique Inglesias, is Here too,
Richard Gere and George Clooney,
Minnie's land and Looney tooney,
all around me in a circle,Lamp Of Genie,
Full Of Dreams come true.


I'm a girl of Hundred wishes,
Chocolate Ripple ,so delicious,
Whilst I fall in love,'Amour',
Flowers scenting sweet Odour.
There am i,floating so high,
with the faries in the sky,
I am smiling,No more cry.

I'm a girl of Hundred Wishes,
Clouds are sleeping,Moon is peeping,
Saying 'I Love You',Angels singing
Playing Harps and Violins too.
Stars are  dancing,Stars are twinkling,
amongst them,there is You.

Rays Of Light Shining so bright,
Its the Greatest Night,Of Nights,
Wishes Granted,Im enchanted,
Dear Genie,thanks to you.
My Sweet Genie,Handsome Genie,
I will love You ,till I'm Ninety two,
I am leaving On a  Rainbow,
I shall remember You.


                                                                    Charma

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

Tomorrow I Will Write

Soggy skies     clouds the gray of
dingy white clothes on laundry day       
Rain drips    a leaky faucet gathering slowly 
in cupped leaves    forming quivering puddles      
A crow’s ebony feathers shine as if freshly oiled
Wet foliage glistens in early morning flashes of lightning
There is nothing to inspire me today
Tomorrow    I will write a poem

The leak intensifies    clouds darkening from gray to black    
shifting and stacking on themselves
The pipes burst    a deluge slapping the window panes
Wind driven branches scrape the roof     
Flowers bend double    shield petals with long leaves
Thunder rolls like a sack of marbles spilling 
onto a wooden porch    drowning out my thoughts
Tomorrow    I will write a poem

I arose this morning    raging against a dry spell
anticipating being inspired by a walk in the meadow
hoping the beauty of a late summer day would bring
the words tumbling from my pen
Instead I watch the world slide gently from sun to shadow
see thirsty grass being pummeled by pellets of rain
As I watch    the dry earth becomes greener 
There are only so many ways to describe green or wet
Tomorrow    I will write a poem


Copyright © Monterey Sirak


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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 © binibining P.iNk


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

When the tide rises

So blessed to see everything around me dry, 
Afraid to add to the flood so I won't cry, 
But so many live changed around me so near, 
Now I know life holds bigger things to fear, 
Little things we worry about like losing an extra pound, 
These are things to ignore now that the community has drown, 
Homes being destroyed, causing lives to be torn apart, 
Now is the time we should think with our heart, 
Someone out there needs you, even just a smile, 
Or to know they have a number to dial, 
Waters keep rising and the estimates get higher, 
The homes above water are catching fire, 
Power outages throughout our homes, 
And underwater streets blocked off by cones, 
No water for showers, laundry or dishes, 
This is a perfect time to be granted 3 wishes, 
Wish for a light at the end of the storm, 
Wish that a better community be born, 
And wish for a greater appreciation to form, 
Hope for the best but prepare for the worst, 
Now why didn't we think of that first? 
Well they say birds of a feather flock together, 
So let's form a V and battle this weather.

Copyright © Kristina Glackin


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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


Details | Laundry Poem | |

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