Best Clanks Poems

Inside the Dishwasher everyone rushed!
Clinks, clanks, rattles, 'Ouches' and ' Ohs'!
"Would you pa--lease, settle down!" said Deb--They hushed.
"Now we can hear...let's just see how this goes."

Curious, Peter, looked out through a chinc,
And watched Vie and Chris-- approaching by twos.
They opened the door--and who do you...

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Driving past the couple 
I could see
They were heading my way
Expecting tea

Now anyone is welcome 
At my humble home
Except those two
Why have they come?

She clanks her teeth when she speaks
His nose always running... he eats like that
My stomach turns because she reeks
Her bladder is dodgy,...

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The glass chatters, clanks, and shatters
As it hits the ground
But makes no sound
The only thing heard is the
Screams of pain
As I get hit into the glass
Blood everywhere
Pain unbearable
The ripping of flesh
Cracking of bones
Screams of pain
Yet no one hears the screams
No one to save me
From this...

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This old House
__________________________
This old house, clinks and clanks
some things are broke, and then some aint
Fix it up before it  breaks
this old house.

Could be made of stone, or even mudd
but still, it would make a thudd
if the heater breaks, it could flood
this old house.

The boards...

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My Life as a Car

Rusted and busted see my orange face
Used to grace the showroom place
See these broken eyelights that shone so bright
They saved your life one darkened night
Edsel body, wet shell to forget
Dear little voices asked “Are we there yet?”
And still my memories are...

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Lets leave you here'...

um over there...

Feel the freedom pier! And clanks in their dear old ships heightened, and waiting the fear. 

The weed of the consternation, and overall equity to be so lazy about a non- conjoined thing...

To our future, that is nothing ethical, only...

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For Didds

Four tankards found at the foot of the hill
Bet someone got w*nkered, and now they feel ill
Bet it went down so easy that no one resisted
And now they’ve forgotten the tankards existed
But down at the pub there are rumours of scandals
Of boisterousness, and the...

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The city moves and laughs and sings
Of lurid lights and fancy things 
Of static electricity 
And many opportunities 

The acid clouds are dismal gray 
Leave not a single trace of day 
Wind withers and regains its speed
A buried, lonely poplar seed 

But while the city...

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Clanks,

blanks,

cranks,

clash!

Slams in tank,

detours irate!

Ingenious infiltrates,

sojourns knocking,

indignation on the plank,

plutocracy dank!

Dotards are prate,

iridescence is just as late-

prime meridian,

songs obsidian,

and the incandescence great!...

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She guides me in and sits me down.
Not the Remington portable typewriter this time.
I grab a pen and some parchment they have more life i believe.
The mechanical twists and clanks sound so hollow.

In this depression my colored skin only attracts sorrow.
I would like to escape...

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Yellow cabinets, like sunflowers are planted on top of floral walls,
the sink is clean; the lemon scent still lingering in the corners, 
the cooker whistles, and the sound echoes excitedly, bringing smiles to the waiters, making Grandma herself hurry to the stove. 
The smell of...

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Goodnight, my whistle whispers
 muffled by squeals and clanks, 
the freights' heavy weight cradles the breath I take. 
Exhales through chilled wind churn coldness steel, 
solidifies my being real, 
through every jolt shakes every bolt, a thrash, clash, pulsing bit,
 steal me up a comfort...

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Past the grain fields clanks the old train,
and it goes beyond the fertile valley;
then it vanishes amid the swaying hills,
not too far from the massive castle
built by the Normans, and it's pelted by rain,
washing the pollen off the golden yarrows.


I saw many wild kids playing...

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Steam from fresh ground coffee
Mixes with smoke from cigarettes.
Syrup mixes with butter.
Eggs mix with toast.
Clinks of forks on plates
Mix with clanks of spatulas on the grill.
Last minute bar stragglers
Mix with early morning risers.
Morning crew coming in
Mixes with night crew getting off.
It's shift change at the...

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“Four dollars a shot,” 
marched from the bartender’s mouth - 
each syllable carried the clanks
of Herbie’s Rhodes – jutting like 
glacier crags in swells of desert-base. 
They carried the smoke curling like 
a silver chain draped around a neck,
and the bulges of slurred blurbs.

The words...

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