Best Air Conditioner Poems
Men enjoy the smell of Camel cigarettes at the check-in counter
just like they enjoy the sound of bones tapping on wood
in the late AM in the hallways. Stilettos are from God.
Then, the slow tapping at his door. The heart beats more.
The drunkenness of his eye. They enjoy.
Spider-like, how both women with dyed
blonde hair and coarse, rubicund skin
crawl to John on the bed.
The strange car downstairs with lights on still waits outside.
The women begin to kiss each other’s lips.
One with a small bump above her lip
quickly hooks her fingers at the top edge of his pants.
One bends down in front of him. The other, with her hands, touches what is sacred.
The rickety sound of the window air conditioner shakes and rattles.
The old stench in the carpet swells.
Outside, the rain begins to pour sideways. It bangs dramatically on the roof.
The man working the late shift behind the front counter
with an old, small TV on his lap is drunk again.
A sound of something on the floor moves. He lazily opens his eyes and sees nothing and closes them.
A light-skinned, middle-aged black man in a car parked car outside
with the windshield wipers still on waits in silence.
His body is slumped towards the steering wheel, gun in his hand
as if he was waiting for a sign to make a move if he had to.
Determined to see Wimble done
She turned on her TV for fun
Net Assault
Thump Thump "Fault!"
Ilene's air conditioner won!
My husband John and I
We're sitting down for tea,
Suddenly I spied
Something black in front of me
John put down his teacup
And with a look of complete surprise
Said, "What was that black thing
That flashed before my eyes?"
The black thing whizzed across the room
Then disappeared out of sight,
We had been out all day so
All our doors and windows
Were closed tight
The room was quiet,
We could not hear a sound
Not the squeak of a mouse
Or the flap of a wing,
In the air or on the ground.
The black thing had vanished,
Into thin air.
No rodent or bird,
Found anywhere.
Was it a bat?
Or baby rat?
Rat's don't fly,
So it couldn't be that.
The black thing flashed past,
At such a pace,
It would help if you were slower to notice features or face.
It seemed to disappear,
Into the air conditioner,
High up on the wall
If it did, there was still no sound,
No chirp, tweet or squawl
We turned off the heating,
In case the black thing
Had got inside
And it had died.
What an evening that turned out to be,
A conundrum indeed for John and me.
We are waiting for a call,
For the technician to take the conditioner
Off the wall.
To solve the mystery
Of who that unwelcome guest can be.
Some pretty brown birds nesting on a tree
Prank frequently at my other room balcony
Apparently, they were once the main culprits
Of messing it up, bringing a variety of leaves and twigs
They also build thin nests behind my air conditioner
When an egg drops, they may reckon I’m aborting their daughter
One day, I wondered what had sprouted on the floor
At a grimy nook, not quite far from my door
When I looked closely, I was so skeptical
It was a great masterpiece of these clever winged pals
I was so certain that it was not a moss or a grass
But a vine bearing flowers with pretty purple petals
After a week, it revealed exuberantly itself
A lush vine of string beans, I didn’t sow by myself
Was it dropped by those birds or sowed by an invisible elf?
Oh, if it has grown taller than my room, I must have cried for help!
As it crawled and climbed up to the balcony wall
In fascination, I deigned not to ask questions anymore
It climbed up freely to a wall’s faucet as its sturdy trellis
And feasts proudly, spreading its huge and verdant leaves
In tandem was the bearing of its long string bean fruits
Heavily laden, their numbers had no hints – that was a bird’s hoot
I harvested thrice while my smiles were all in glints
And had a delicious vegie salad twice from my lovely magic bean
My last harvest was meant for the next crops
I took all beans from the fruits just for drying up
The brilliant brown birds will no longer need to drop
New seedlings from their magic beans are now growing in pots
I thanked those kind creatures for the magic beans they’ve given
Growing them in my concrete room balcony was like a dream
It wasn’t a fairytale at all, I’ve already given myself a pinch
And my balcony even magically turned into a mini vegie garden
Jan. 31,2015 11.15pm
By: LG
-This is a true story: an experience last July, 2014
First Place
Contest: Magic Beans
Judged: 2/14/2015
Sponsor: My all time favourite and loving poet sis, PD
Ah, the glorious damned winter
and the inviting
gray chill in the air.
I meander
ever
so
slowly
past lawns
strewn
with a cluttered array
of pagan snow zombies -
staring blankly,
as I obliterate pint-sized
snow angels
failing to don halos
that could have easily been
brush stroked with
da Vinci's golden teardrops.
(Impoverished attention-getters)
"I suggest you peruse Alighieri’s 'Inferno' –
it may, at least, promote heat - if not hope!"
(Simpletons)
Frost continues to cloud my spectacles -
thick and relentless
eagerly permeating the glass -
endeavoring to dance
a feverish Fantasia foxtrot
upon the skins of my pupils.
My heavy feet scuffle
past these endearing peasants.
Bleak…frozen…
forgotten Mt. Everest tombstones.
Disgraced outcasts of embarrassment -
smashed against a stark white canvas
hands cut off –
sticking out their parched tongues
begging for alms.
Click and count.
Their fragile bodies so much alive
their dark, hallowed eyes
so
much
dead.
(So be it)
They stealthily huddle alone -
(Hah! I’ve created my own personal oxymoron!)
These gruesome street urchin waifs -
Dumber than a sackful of hammers and
frostier than a Maine Christmas morn,
convulsing and shivering ‘neath lampposts
without snow shoes or socks,
bawling and boo-hooing...
“Clutching weather-worn copies
of James Hilton’s 'Lost Horizon'
and littering the virgin snow
with salty saline discharge –
igniting street corner bonfires
without the faintest hint of smoke."
(Wasteful)
Ah, the glorious damned winter
and that magnificent gray chill in the air.
My arctic thighs carry me home now
where I am safe.
Where I can slam my door
and shut my eyes.
My cavernous domicile
whereas I can privately converse
with Mr. Dickens and Mr. O’Neill
and read “A Christmas Carol”
or “The Iceman Cometh” -
without a snaggle-toothed interruption...
Listen to the haunting strains of L’Inverno
from Vivaldi’s “Le Quattro Staggioni”
and cackle wildly as I burn first editions
of Clement Clark Moore’s
most infamous penning -
pour myself a
tall glass of ice cubes -
devour a heaping bowl
of vichyssoise -
scarf down a fudgcicle
and just...
turn the air conditioner
ON.
I Hate Home Depot!
I hate Home Depot!
Just the sight of that
orange and white sign
makes my stomach turn.
However I know every
square inch of that store,
I’ve spent
thousands of hours there
as a paying customer.
I know what all is in the
garden section for all of the seasons.
I know where to go to find the
nuts, screws, nails and bolts. I can guide you
through the wallpaper and
the paint section.
I’ve bought sheets of plywood, lots of pcv pipe,
dozens of American Standard toilets,
ceiling fans, light fixtures, HVAC systems,
generators, even a riding lawn mower.
I’ve bought paint and waited to have it
mixed properly. I’ve rented
and driven dozens of their trucks before.
I’ve bought power drills, leaf blowers
screwdrivers, hammers, cabinets,
patio furniture, a refrigerator, an oven,
and an air conditioner.
I’ve even rented a carpet cleaner too!
But I could care less, if I ever step foot
in a Home Depot ever again. All of my hours
clocked in that store went to the benefit
of my ex.
He was the one that financially,
emotionally and personally
gained from my presence in
Home Depot.
So what was the point of me acquiring
all of that knowledge that didn’t benefit
me at all then and probably won’t benefit
me ever again?
It seems like such as waste of my time
and energy now.
Believe me when I say
I would rather watch paint dry than
go to Home Depot, I mean ever word
of that statement!
One summer I practically read all of
War and Peace in the orange and
white store from Hell!
But I can show you how to repair a large hole
in a piece of sheetrock. I know how to
paint the inside and the outside of a house.
I know how to install travertine in a house,
slanted and straight.
I have installed granite countertops,
hardware for a sink and the basin too.
Many other home improvement projects
I learned there.
What a fool I was!
Oh well, that’s life.
Who knows maybe
someday I’ll use some
of that knowledge that I
hated every minute learning!
JIMMY CARTER
There's so many shortages
we don't know what to do
we're outa gas and coffee beans
and outa money, too.
The congress hasn't been much help
and peanuts just won't do,
so Jimmy please be good for us,
and we'll be good for you!
Well my car's a little bit
extravegant, I know,
it's got an air conditioner
and 440 makes it go!
And every time I step on it
it pours the gas right through
and congress doesn't like my car,
but they drive guzzlers, too!
Well Jimmy Carter's leading us from desperation
and he's trying to save the family car
but the road hog is a gasser
and the gas ain't no cheaper
at the rate that we're goin now---we won't go far!
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
click click, click click, tick-tock, tick-tock,
the clock seems to tick not as fast as one wants,
the air conditioner stops now they can hear you chew,
after the first week, you knew this wasn't the right job for you.
two years go by, collectively this repetition makes the time fly
but each day feels like two weeks in the mind,
a backwards reality, a 21st century tragedy, too much of this will make one mad you see, its just not natural - self destruction will take place gradually
in search of a new end goal, something nourishing to the soul, perhaps a little creative control, a bit more spiritual, and a little less ritual,
how about less them, and a little more you, knowing you have the ability to pursue anything you want to do, but for now you keep your head down just trying to see the day through and then forcefully recoup - praying the IT department doesn't notice you scrolling down poetry soup:)
The September days can get very hot
Turn on the air conditioner, then it's not
By late afternoon you are cold again
Turn off the air and let evening set it
The very next day you wake up to a chill
Is that really frost on your windowsill
Get out the sweaters and turn up the heat
The days to come this activity we'll repeat
We are just now entering the first of November
Much talk of a heat wave, so try to remember
Weather change happens so don't lose your cool
Predicting the weather makes a smart man a fool
Author Eileen Clark
Remaining time on our holidays we headed for
Ontario. It was the hottest of hot days
And sweat poured off our skins like it was dry
Desert heat upon the earthly sands
Throwing our air conditioner to full throttle we
Realized that we had chocolate bars in the back seat
In this heat they melted right inside the wrappers
Pretty soon we felt like we were melting inside our skin
8/19/13
note--it was 42 C everyday that week we were gone.
Not an enjoyable road trip
My place,
My spot in this world,
Sitting in my chair,
At my yellow desk,
Looking over my plants,
My church,
And my home town,
Knitting needles left carelessly out,
A framed poem from my cousin,
An abacus with colorful beads,
A picture of my brother and I,
School papers and stories started are strewn across my desk,
Country music plays,
And an air conditioner hums in the background,
A globe from my uncle,
And a favorite hat sit on my desk as well,
Eighty-nine degrees at twenty minutes 'till eight pm,
It was a hot day,
I watch the trees barely fluttering in the wind across the street,
My cluttered desk,
Strewn with my papers,
And my room right next door,
My place in this world for now.
My apartment once looked like it was decorated for halloween.
Throughout spider webs were on display easily seen,
from every corner of every room and from beam to beam,
but these weren't props, these were the real thing.
I guess a spider got into my apartment through my air conditioner most likely,
and proceeded to procreate a lot of spider babies,
who kind of took permanent residence eventually.
Rather than exterminate, I chose to coexist with them,
and I believe that they too had sensed that I had no bad intentions.
They would freely come on to my hand and creepy crawl along my arm,
as if knowing that I wouldn't cause any of them any harm,
then I would place my hand in the direction,
of a spider web it may have likely spun,
and off they would go amongst their web's scattered debris,
of dehydrated husks of insects, but only one variety.
The prey that these eight-legged predators enjoyed the most,
was that classic uninvited guest, the common cockroach.
Prior to this whole spider invasion,
the cockroach was a major problem in my apartment,
but after the spiders moved in,
I began seeing less and less of them,
and shortly after that, there were none.
There was also an immediate decrease in the spider population.
Their prey the cockroach was no longer in abundance,
and so the spiders died out too due to lack of prey.
I haven't seen a spider or a cockroach to this very day,
but I will always be grateful to the arachnids, because they helped me,
to get my apartment roach free, completely, finally.
Believe it or not, this is a true story.
funny how we are here
naked and laughing at the fact that we once loathed each other
the kicker is people think we still cannot stand the sight of each other
now look at us....licking and loving each other down like crazed maniacs
funny how we are here
man how we used to go at it face to face and nose to nose
the fire that we made could have burned down a whole city without blinking
now look at us....giving in the the fire in our eyes for each other....in secret
funny how we are here
air conditioner on and all shiny from the steamy lovesweat
there was a time when the only lying we would do is to our respective friends to get away from the other
now look at us....not wanting to go and wishing for the night to last longer
funny how we are here
shower running and seductively teasing each other for the purpose of elongation
thinking back, the only water we experienced from each other was the spittle from the other when we were cussing each other out
now look at us....expressing vulgarities in the name of love....
Make your grave
That’s not so difficult, is it?
Pull a comforter over the coffin
Maybe an electric blanket
Now 7 AM. That’s no hour to get to bed
Time wears thin any sense of constrained risk
Now 10 AM and I think I’ll
Stare at the back of my eyelids
Now noon and
The robins dive
By the air conditioner
Lie and lie
To yourself
Day or night or
Whenever
I don’t give a damn
Between the lights
On broken marrow
I succumb to the ardent bliss of
Nothing at all
The Devil got the sack last week
He’s feeling at a loss
For several thousand years now
He’s been in charge, the boss
The new man’s changing everything
Hired a whole new team
The place is so much nicer
A more relaxed regime
Red hot pokers up the ****
De rigueur, they are not
Only those that ask, will get
A poker up their bot
There’s been a change of fragrance too
Well, sulphurs so outré
Seems Lily of the valley
Is the order of the day
We’re getting leather sofas, which
Could well be here quite soon
And a squad of decorators
Working hard in every room
Now they’ve fixed the air conditioner
It’s behaving as it should
Hell is rather pleasant
In fact it’s jolly good
So when you pop your clogs
And you’re deciding where to go
Forget the trip to Heaven
It’s much better down below