Best Clean House Poems
I am one breathtaking moment
I am one who is lost or alone
I am one raindrop, or one flowering rose
I am a distant star or a meadow lark
Or one dark cloud that hovers on the horizon
I am many memories from a long ago childhood
I am many tears and many sorrows
I am many rainbows and many seasons
I am many reasons to sing a love song
Or tell a story, or share the laughter, or feel the glory
I am all the colors of our world
I am all races, all creeds, the scattering of seeds
I am all words unfurled into the light
I am all the broken hearts and hopes lost in the night
I am all the hurt, all the anger, all the joy, all the love
I am all who believe in God above
I am all who doubt, thereof
I am all who laugh, and sing, and wail and shout
I am unleashed with wild emotion
I am heartbreak, and devotion
I am humble, I am proud
Soft as a whisper, the shape of a cloud
I am the stepping stone to healing
I renew by sharing feelings
I am a few unbroken rules, a few enchanting jewels
I am the ember, I am the spark
----------- the poet in "me" who dreams in the dark
~
----------- but this is the real "me" who schemes in the dark
I am the neighbor, who brings you soup
I am a tomboy, I am a friend
I'll lend an ear if you are troubled
My favorite food might be ice cream
A double scoop, I beg you please?
I'll bathe the dog, I give good hugs
I rub their backs when they are ill
Good music fills my eyes with tears
Love hula hoops. Loops in my ears
Toss a ball into a hoop and ride a horse, (I have for years)
I like to wear my denim jeans, occasionally I'll wear my lace
Brunette, of hair, my mother's face
I make mistakes....... I won't forsake you
Don't buy me a crown, I'm not a queen
But I am keen on my clean house
I'll not judge you...don't hold a grudge
My husband declares that I'll not budge
But I can make some awesome fudge
I'm small in size......my eyes are blue
I'm not a prize..I'll blow a fuse
I thrive on loving, I'll love you too
And I can fix most things with glue
I can stretch a dime, make old things new
I love antiques and have a few
I've paid my dues.....with ups and downs
One ordinary girl........from one small town
This may be more than you want to know
But that's scoop, ..... I'll say adieu ....!
______________________________________
For Frank's Contest: Self-Portrait
She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey
Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop
Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids
her younger brother, childhood ends at five
She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor
shares food scraps with dogs
wounds yarn slow they say
checks muskrat traps in marshes
barefoot in icy waters she looks
Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles
her mother helps nurse her back
Rented to take care of a baby, clean house
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen
pig fights for potato peels
Her stomach empty, rumbles, she
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.
Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold
Her master dies, the new master
rents her to a local builder
the builder permits her to rent herself
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.
Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom
doors open, slips of paper lead her way
through the Underground Railroad,
a network of shifting safe houses
Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family
The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back,
helps her family, friends escape, escape
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps,
around hills, she never losses a passenger.
A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back
Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses”
for her fearless bravery,
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.
Brunette, of hair, my mother's face
I'm known to be a country girl
I like to wear blue denim jeans,
but love to wear a dress of lace
I've made mistakes, to my disgrace
I'm small in size......my eyes are blue
I'm not a prize, have no excuse
I'm the neighbor who will bring you soup
Good music fills my eyes with tears
Love hula hoops. Loops in my ears
Can toss a ball, and whoop it up
I can ride a horse, and wear the boots
Don't wear a crown, I'm not a queen
But I am keen on my clean house
I'll lend an ear, I am a friend
My favorite food might be ice cream
A double scoop, I beg you please?
I'll bathe the dog, I give good hugs
I'll rub your back when you are ill
I'll judge you not...won't hold a grudge
A movie fan, read quite a lot
I thrive on love, I'll love you too
Can fix most things with Elmer's glue
Can stretch a dime, make old things new
I love antiques and have a few
My family ties are iron strong
And stronger as the days grow long
I hope to light my little world
With poetry, some bad, some good
I've paid my dues.....with ups and downs
A small town girl, who gets around
I try to keep an open mind
I hope to God, that I've been kind
And hope to find a friend in you
So that's scoop, ..... a double dip
I'll say adieu' ...., and finish it !
_________________________________
Submitted For "A Poet's Bio"
Contest sponsored by Tammy Reams
It's been covered
by that christmas tablecloth
for years.
You remember...
the one with the large poinsettia pattern
directly in the middle,
with the cranberry stains decorating
sporadic spots along the border.
I almost forgot it was here.
I always hoped somehow a magic trick
would be performed while I was away
and it would disappear before I returned.
The years have passed for me
yet as I do the unceremonious unveiling
time seems to spiral backwards until
I'm sitting on the floor
drowning in a flood of memories.
Yet,
no more tears come.
Time to clean house.
No more tablecloths to cover the pain.
No more boxes to tuck away
the memories that are better off forgotten.
No more excuses for not visiting this place.
No more.
This space is clean now
and will remain that way.
Clear of the cobwebs and dust
that have been clouding my vision
for too many years.
The heavy velvet curtains give a groan
(or is it a cheer?)
as they're thrown open.
Finally, the sun can shine through
and the warmth can be felt
by a heart that was unsure it deserved
to feel the warmth of the sun.
Luella Bufkin
1872 – 1891
Do you remember me?
Does anyone remember the Bufkin girl of Comstock Street?
I was the girl who read her Bible every Sunday
In the forgiving shade of my father’s Elm Tree..
Maybe not.
Because I died young… way too young.
And I was a smart pretty girl too.
No one ever knew I spent many waking moments alone.
Alone and staring into the parlor room mirror
Staring into my own blue eyes;
Imagining they were the eyes of my galloping Knight.
Eyes I had hoped to use
In capturing the “devil” by his tail.
I knew how to cook and sew
And clean house and milk the cow.
I made the butter and the bread
And my mother always said
”Now Luella, don’t forget to add the yeast.”
I cleaned and scrubbed and scoured
And even cut the firewood on occasion.
It was all I knew;
My life with rags and strong soaps;
One continuing, unending back-breaking episode
Of hardwood chores
And ever-growing laundry piles.
And it was a brief,
Oh so painfully brief life,
Of cleaning, praying and… dreaming.
I wanted to go into nursing
And find a suitable man to be my Noble Squire.
But my kidneys flamed up and I started to pee blood.
Come to my lonely grave sometime, my friend.
I’m off in the corner here.
Forgotten and covered in the ivy.
I lie here in my casket in the dark
Please visit me here in the shadows,
So I can hear you breathing.
Clean House
(Acrostic)
Clutter cleaning clients
lazy as can be
enduring years of mayhem
attitude- I don’t Clean!
nobody picks things up only make a mess.
House piled high with garbage
odors hiding out and no one sees
under neath that bed
shouting somebody help me please!
evidence of shame
Home alone lived the widower, Fred
with no inkling at all in his head
of how to clean house.
Without his dear spouse,
Fred was facing his clutter with dread.
Everywhere there were cobwebs and dust.
Even pieces of old pizza crust!
And a horrid new smell
Fred began to inhale
while surveying the mess with disgust.
It smelled just like a rat there had died,
so Fred flew into action. He cried,
“Cleaning service I’ll pay.
I must call them today,
and next week I will search for a bride!”
Written March 16, 2012
For Francine Roberts'
Cobwebs and Dust Poetry Contest
Theme: Cobwebs and Dust
Where have you been? I’ve worried so.
I feared to leave the nest.
That Mr. Crow was hanging round.
You know he’s such a pest
He taunted me and said that you
were a bold philanderer
and that you’d be deserting me
and running off with her.
I know what he was doing,
just trying to get my goat
so I’d leave our home unguarded.
That would be all she wrote.
Have you eaten? I’ve been waiting
for you to bring some food.
You’ve forgotten it? How could you?
Mom said you were no good.
I swear I’m going back to her
unless you change your way.
Now come back here! I am not through.
I’ve plenty more to say.
Get on that nest. It’s your turn now.
I’m going out to eat.
And don’t mess up my nice clean house.
You had better wipe your feet.
Don’t look at me with those big eyes.
You think you have it tough?
It’s time you took some of the load.
I’ve simply had enough!!
For Francine's "Enough" contest placed at no. 4
my name sam
and i am
good to be around
i clean house up and down
i don't just stare
i do care
and play fair
makes repair
put me in your dailey plan
am a
HANDYMAN
dirty,
maid,
clean house
summer is here
She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey
Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop
Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids
her younger brother, childhood ends at five
She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor
shares food scraps with dogs
wounds yarn slow they say
checks muskrat traps in marshes
barefoot in icy waters she looks
Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles
her mother helps nurse her back
Rented to take care of a baby, clean house
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen
pig fights for potato peels
Her stomach empty, rumbles, she
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.
Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold
Her master dies, the new master
rents her to a local builder
the builder permits her to rent herself
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.
Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom
doors open, slips of paper lead her way
through the Underground Railroad,
a network of shifting safe houses
Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family
The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back,
helps her family, friends escape, escape
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps,
around hills, she never losses a passenger.
A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back
Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses”
for her fearless bravery,
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.
She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey
Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop
Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids
her younger brother, childhood ends at five
She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor
shares food scraps with dogs
wounds yarn slow they say
checks muskrat traps in marshes
barefoot in icy waters she looks
Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles
her mother helps nurse her back
Rented to take care of a baby, clean house
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen
pig fights for potato peels
Her stomach empty, rumbles, she
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.
Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold
Her master dies, the new master
rents her to a local builder
the builder permits her to rent herself
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.
Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom
doors open, slips of paper lead her way
through the Underground Railroad,
a network of shifting safe houses
Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family
The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back,
helps her family, friends escape, escape
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps,
around hills, she never losses a passenger.
A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back
Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses”
for her fearless bravery,
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.
Cleaning house today,
Packing away old troubles to be shipped
Into the garbage where they belong
I can't continue this pattern; my hands are too weary to keep weaving, sowing together
These threads of apprehensive dwellings,
My mind is fed up on forgiving cruel intentions
Not deserving of forgiveness
But I will forgive to put my conscience at ease
To better my soul in the countless nights I can recall of worrying
I am tired... a change needs to transpire
At times I feel the urge to surrender to the tribulations
Yet I am still eager to keep on keeping on
Moving up a little bit higher, one day's journey at a time
This time granted, I am willingly...
Cleaning house today,
The baggage stored upon shelves, corners, closets gathered in years of mental space
I am leaving out on the curb, free for anyone to claim custody, full ownership to
I am recovering now... from the midst of a complex situation
Contemplating one complication after the next
An easy cleanup at best, as is...
As it will take some time, time I can't afford to spend hastily
An easy cleanup, on the contrary I would disagree
Yet I am ready for whatever plan god has in store for me
I am determined to clean house, I am preparing for brighter days
The true pursuit of happiness
The divine mission to peace of mind
a woman ask whats wrong with me
that some thing is not the same
she said she still see the fire
but what happen to the flame
her words take me by surprise
because i didn't notice this before
so i start looking at my self
but cant find the kaz groove no more
lately i been under the weather
with some normal daily stress
but i never let it affect me
because i always rise to the test
now this person in front the mirror
looks like some one i know
but i don't recognize him
where did the kaz groove go
the kaz is really a cool guy
just like a cold Carib beer
but i not see the kaz groove again
looks like he drop it somewhere
he use to be a ladies candy
with words sweet like honey
but now he is like a dinner mint
with no sugar like a diet Pepsi
i,m not seeing the kaz groove
that he always have with him
or maybe he is giving it a rest
and just keeping it hidden
he came from Trinidad with the groove
and he use it across america
the kaz groove was a chick magnet
like a Mercedes Benz and BMW motorcar
the kaz won dancing competitions
and won best looking at a bazaar
and when goes disco dancing
they use to call him John Travolta
he always have the groove with him
and the girls like him every where
the kaz was like a rear bottle of wine
but now he is just like a Mexican beer
the girls use to ask him out
he never once ask a girl for a date
the kaz groove was like a treat
you would see on the ladies plate
he use to be a fashion designer
making suits and beautiful women dress
and if you ask any one in Trinidad
they would he say the kaz was the best
and any sports games he played
he was always the best naturally
and every thing he cooks is so tasty
and some say he writes some nice poetry
"i love myself better than i love my self "
a big hit song by comedian bill Cosby
that song bring out a 'dog dance competitions
and the kaz clean house and take the trophy
the kaz with the smooth dancing move
and the original heart breaker
i don't see him these days at all
looks like he moving undercover
where has the kaz groove gone?
maybe the winter is to cold
and he saving it for the spring break
to bring back the kaz groove to the world
i know very soon the grove will be back
but i just have to wait and see
because i know the kaz groove
is here to stay till eternity
Wake up people it's time to come out of hibernation
And into the realization of that beautiful swing witch
Turns Winter into spring. It's time to stop sinning and
Start winning, step into a new beginning. It's time
To clean house, get rid of all that junk, clean all that
Bunk out your trunk.
Get rid of all the nonsense that's going through your
Head instead lets sit down and break bread. It's time
To turn things around for Destiny awaits, come out
Of those dire straits for we all can control our fate
See the beauty of the flower, walk in the warm April
Shower witch will bring forth the lovely May flower
It's time for life it's time for love to see all the wonders
From Heaven above. So out with the old and in with
The new and bring a new you into view. It's time to
Get off your duff, you've been sitting long enough
Time to go out and spread your wings it's time to
SOAR It's Spring.