Best Aproned Poems

There it stands, desolate and alone
That roofless shell where the winds
Still whisper of the past
When  scampering children's squeals
 And wheeling seabirds' cries
Rose thinly through the air.
A thatched croft  from which a healthy living was scraped
A shirt-sleeved man, braces showing,
 Bald pate bunneted against...

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Twelve rounds of excitement
Two rivals smiling in the middle of enchantment

The bell rang...
Both fighters were wild
Two rough hands still mild
The bell rang again -- end of first round.

Second round...
Gaiting horses, eluding kicks and punches
Baiting bodies, protruding hunches

Third round...
Fighters in merry-go-round
Hide and seek on square ground

Fourth...

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Painter paints with a brush and hooded mind.
Dentist extracts, injects with a pointed mind.
Mind of cacophony is what a singer has.
Orator hails, evading a faux pas.
Chef cooks with an aproned mind.
Scientist invents, minded with formulas.
Cartoonist strokes, gifted with artistry 
Dubber voices over to cover up...

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The “Smithy”
Written: By Tom Wright
4/28/04


The anvil’s peal breaches the mid day air,
and his four pound hammer fettles the shoe.
At the forge’s cinders in thought I stare,
and listen to the wheezing bellows spew.

The portrait of a bygone period in time,
when the aproned “Smithy” was still king.
Massive...

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In Dickensian time 
Upon sunset hour
Overshadowing Thames
Is London Tower
Blackened cobble streets
Shimmer in the rain
Big Ben at Westminster
Chimes an eight bells refrain

At Euston Station
A passenger alights
On Platform 3
And enters the caff
for a nice cup of tea

At the local tavern
Behind steamy windows
The opportunists sit
Gleaning local gossip
Ever watchful...

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Forbears,Edie,Kate and Ann furnished apiece with brush and pan.Each 
Victorian 'Miss' tied in service's  abyss.Far off days,now long gone,their toil each 
day was lengthy and long.With fires to light,floors to scrub,and carpets to brush 
and drub.Mops forbidden,as they smeared the dirt and begrimed their...

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RETURN TO NEIGHBORHOOD III

Where kids had the run-o’-the-place
Noisy
Dirty
Smelly brats
In-and-out
Everywhere!
Like a shot!
There was imagination.
Games ad lib
A terrible    wonderful use of neighborhood
An awful    rollicking use of the day
Where a poor aproned mom must scrub and scrub
The tub on Saturday nights
No begging...

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Forbears,Edie,Kate and Ann furnished apiece with brush and pan.Each 
Victorian 'Miss' tied in service's  abyss.Far off days,now long gone,their toil each 
day was lengthy and long.With fires to light,floors to scrub,and carpets to brush 
and drub.Mops forbidden,as they smeared the dirt and begrimed their...

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In my old age 
I thought I’d have such yarns to tell,
of derring-do when I was hale and hearty.
Looking back, I wonder now just what befell
me in those years
and did I miss the party?
Distant echoes further fade
as all the days slip by.
An aproned lady combs...

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Unrelenting blitzkrieg deadly
assault upon psyche
pounded defenseless
vulnerable mindscape accustomed
to shelter within aproned crease
mama proffered manna, especially

when untethered meek docile lad
subjected to blistering hellfire
infamous hoodlums wantonly unleashed
verbal bombardments lobbing poison
spear tipped invisible blackened barbs
manifold times more agonizing

piercing, targeting, xraying...
guaranteed fatal skull and crossbones
unseen insignia wrought utmost damage
one...

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Once in Home Depot
I was in the lighting aisle,
when a horde of aproned workers
descended down from a quarter mile 
With hundreds of cartons of bulbs,
They were very bright I guess
I had to jump out of the way,
My bundles now a mess
So now you know how
It...

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the beast detests the prince of pomposity.
the chin upturned. each blackened strand of hair

in place with grease. his too white smile released
to aproned maids — the town with hordes of them.

his shoulders straight, his swagger thrills his mates.
they clink the loving cup — the weight...

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Juniper blended with the richness of Mohagany 
as the well soaped Maidens accompliced 
in the impness of Dawn.
A strong coffee poulticed a hint of Cinnamon, 
and Clove prepared expectations. 
The morning fog was lifting her skirt 
in a slow tease, as both veil and curtain....

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What are you looking for?
he asked me.
He was sweet.
Concerned.
Wearing a red apron,
amused when he caught
me staring at him.

I am looking for life, I said,
And I saw it a minute ago,
in your smile.

Aw!Another red-aproned person
said from the next aisle. She ran
over, and took a peek at...

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It’s a boy thing
the clickety-clack, clickety-clack
of a train along its tracks 
all manner of boys
from diapered toddler 
to arthritic codger
from suited gent 
to aproned chef
the clickety-clack, clickety-clack
ignites within them   
the feeling of freedom
and faraway places
the clickety-clack, clickety-clack
fills their hearts
with a special joy ...

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