Best Dishwashing Poems
Aaarrhhh!
You say it's not working again, dear
Curse that piece of metal junk,
it only works on Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Part-time dishwashing machine ...
and half of the time when it do work, it only get the dishes half-clean
It decided to go on labor strike,
two months after the warranty expired
Go figure ...
it need to be put on the back of a salvage truck,
with a sign saying: Lazy machine for hire
Don't know why the missus so loves you
If I had three wishes, here's what I'd do ---
number one:
permanently pull your plug
number two:
cover you in the garage with a mechanic's rug
number three:
sell your parts without so much as a shrug
Then knowing that I put you down, I'd be satisfied
with having to wash and rinse my own drinking mug
I hate your nuts and bolts ...
if it was up to me, this would be murder she wrote
But luckily for you, my wife doesn't feel that way,
and you get to have an execution stay
Aaarrhhh!
You also get to rattle and shake for another day
Well, guess it's time to call a repairman,
then call the manufacturer and get an extended warranty plan
Oh for the assistance of machinery
As my wife and I suffer so bitterly
From wet soapy hands
That slip on plates and pans
Which occasionally crack most disagreeably
On the twelfth day of Christmas
My true love (hubby) sent to me
12 baskets of laundry
Eleven dishwashing liquids
Ten laundry soaps
Nine vacuum cleaners
Ten frying pans
Nine oven toasters
Eight soft brooms
Seven kitchen aprons
Six sheers for mowing
Five hair netsssssssssss
Four dustpans
Three floor scrubs
Two rubber gloves
And a pretty nanny for my baby
Dec. 14, 2012
By Leonora Galinta Merry, Merry Christmas to All! Please sing with me;))
First Prize
Contest: 12 days of X-mass
Judged: 12/25/2012
Sponsor: My greatest Poet, PD/Linda
Six blue jays converge at the birch
To sing their anomalous colloquial song,
They fashion a serene scene as they perch;
My mind so inclined to blindly sing along.
As I ponder their ways, in my midmorning daze;
I recall a tale my grandmother told—
Of a desolate day through a dishwashing gaze;
A heinous sight she was doomed to behold.
Through her window; across the drive,
On the very top of some man-made pole,
A sinless and beautiful robin arrived;
Assembled a nest and called it her home.
She laid some eggs at the edge of spring,
And by summer they joined the day,
She taught her young about everything
For the time that comes when they should stray.
But then one day while mother was out
Collecting a feast for the rest of her nest,
A single blue jay swooped in for a bout—
Snipped off their heads and left.
Mother came back to the horrid mess;
The tragically pointless abhorrent wreck,
And with frantic confusion and great distress
She flew into the window and broke her neck.
So as I stare in the garden today;
And view such a seemingly innocent sight,
Behind the charm of those six blue jays
Could possibly rein six times the fright.
After Dinner
David J Walker
I can still hear the clanking of
Silverware and ceramic dishes after dinner
As the sink filled with hot water
Clearing, washing, and drying
The suds of Ivory Liquid dishwashing soap
Guaranteed to help keep that Youthful Glow
Of our young hands
The small AM radio in the window tuned
To the Top-40 on KOMA
Me watching as my sisters engaged in
A quick game of Jax
On the waxed linoleum kitchen floor
Looking out the door into the living room
We could see the glow of the TV set
And the end of our fathers lit cigarette
The grey smoke filling the air
Mom laughing at something funny
Barny Fife said to Andy in a
Black & White comedy about
Small town life in the 60s’
After dinner and the dishes were done
We finished our homework
The meal was over
And with apprehension
I took my plate to the kitchen
Where I looked at the devastation
Caused by its preparation.
Who could guess
That a cook could make such a mess.
Pots and pans were everywhere
Causing a washing despair
Especially as I was the one
To get it done.
It would have been easier
With a dishwashing machine
But since last week it is a has-been
Just when I need it most
It gave up the ghost.
To add to my dismay
The water’s cold
Because we were told
They’re cutting the power today.
Now the grease won’t budge
It’s a sticky sludge
That won’t go down the drain
And remains everywhere.
I can’t wait to go to heaven
And see a sign
No food or wine
Beyond this gate.
“Ooh, don’t stop”, she says to me when massaging her feet at night;
“Ooh, don’t stop”, she whines when flipping channels and a game comes into sight;
“Ooh, don’t stop”, she orders when pushing the grocery cart past the cold beer aisle;
“Ooh, don’t stop”, she barks when I take a dishwashing break for awhile.
“Give me more, baby”, she says when pouring her a glass of wine;
“Give me more, baby”, she demands when I get out of the ATM line;
“Give me more, baby”, she pleads when putting her gifts under the Christmas tree;
“Give me more, baby”, she requests when editing my last will and testimony.
“You’re the best”, she says to the girl who dresses her hair;
“You’re the best”, she announces to the teachers who provide day care;
“You’re the best”, she moans to her favorite flavor of ice cream;
“You’re the best”, she states to the tailor who lets out her seams.
But what do I hear in bed at night when amorous I get?
These phrases she so commonly uses, she seems to then forget.
In twenty years of trying to please, I haven’t heard one yet;
The truth of the matter, the fact of it is, I hear the opposite.
My mother had a friend who had chalk-ware decorations in her kitchen. She had inherited them
From her grandmother, maybe even her great-grandmother. They were from the forties.
A chalk-ware peach, a chalk-ware apple, a chalk-ware orange, a chalk-ware banana.
Cook, butler, maid, stove, refrigerator, sink, all in chalk-ware.
When she reached her nineties she was still in her own home, but making a few little mistakes.
She called my mother one time to complain because she had put her chalk-ware decorations into
The dishwasher to “freshen them up”, but after the dishwashing cycle, they had disappeared.
My mother told me about it, and we laughed.
All those little wires in the bottom of the dishwasher, my mother said.
We laughed again.
Chalk-ware brain, I thought.
I wisely kept this to myself.
The hophead at the
Music festival next to me
Yells out the instruction
"Everybody shrink!"
The lead singer holds parallel
To the audience an elongated
Truncheon with a dishwashing
Glove on the end of it
A manakin dummy is tossed
Into the congregation and
It crowdsurfs it's way back
Tossed out the exit
'Insistent savagery'
The 1956 edition
Of Encyclopaedia Britannica
Describes rock 'n' roll
Seagull Screaming Kiss Her Kiss Her
Mass of the Fermenting Dregs
Abingdon Boys School
North Korea Loves John Kerry
Cutlery
The Bad Swedes
Deathwasps Stinging My Brain
I Am the Hottest Part of Hell
It's exhausting picking
A band name
Uninspired, 'tis a search for Shangri-La,
It's much ado, I mean, don't you think so,
All of this bruhaha, just fools would go,
To this La La Land, --no 'tis other La.
Well, if fools have time for frivolous things,
Let it be theirs, not ours, a game of chance,
--It does seem charming, a touch of romance,
Oh no, a fool's errand, what of your bling's.
--What say you, we both got money, let's go,
'Tis a slide of the hands, all done with mirrors,
Pulled out of the hat, it's flawed with errors,
Yet, you are my friend, answer, that you know.
Let us hire some guide, and one from those schools,
--From the universities, a teacher,
I believe they are called professor, --err,
--Now history, and dishwashing, two fools.
2019 September 22
howmanysyllables
16 lines x 10 syllables = a perfect 160 syllables
I smell chili powder, onions simmering
Salivate over chocolate brownies that are too hot to frost
Wild neon paintings liven up this room; my own works of art.
I hear my husband’s TV set, it is loud, and there is gunfire.
I smell something lemon, possibly dishwashing detergent.
Follow my nose to the sink. My husband has washed it!
Not a great job, but a six on a ten scale, so okay.
Sophie Helen begins barking wildly; robbers or mailman is here.
I touch the top of the brownies; still too warm to frost.
Decide to check the corn muffins. They are perfect! Take then out.
The hot pad has one of those plastic pieces in it; I pull that out.
When is the chili ready? It is my husband. He looks hopeful.
I will bring it to you I tell him. I still must add jalapenos to mine.
His TV is getting louder, but Sophie Helen has settled down.
I put the corn muffins into two bowls and begin dipping out chili.
A comfortable life in a warm house with a fantastic homemade meal.
Dishwashing
I only participate in
dishwashing after dinner so as to
not share the benefit and
pleasure of
drinking the
dirty dishwater.