Best Elbow Grease Poems
Poetry time
Every line chimes
Stop on a dime
A buck for a rhyme
What’s a meta for
Similes are, like, a bore
A terzanelle’s attractive
Tho a villanelle’s more proactive
Witches vex trochaic pentameter
Curse iambic HEXameter
Traditionalists eschew free verse
Blank verse is that much worse…
Romance, a hackneyed chore
While humor is adored
Satire rates high too
Tear-jerkers ~ boo-hoo
Poetry time
Elbow grease and grime
Lines sparkle and shine
Craftsmanship sublime
Faith Without Work
Things will fit better
if you first bother
to measure.
Follow through
on what you ask
God to do.
I do not blame
God who has
blessed you with
a brain
insight will
make it plain.
Progress
requires care
A little footwork.
"Elbow Grease".
Should always
accompany
your prayers.
If your creator
seems distant
he is waiting
for you to put
some "motion"
behind your
E-motions..
Go and become
a steward
of your own
blessings.
what you ask
God to put
into motion,
"claim"
You know all that
"faith"
and no work....
and you
Not budging,
while waiting on
"change".
There was a little girl I knew
Whose smile so brightly grew
She listened to her Mom and Dad
Was always good and never bad
Once, she cleaned the oven interior
But, soon was feeling quite inferior
Her scrubbing and rubbing concluded
With her so sure she had been deluded
Nothing she did made the oven clean
Bringing its heart to such a great sheen
Finally, she asked her Mom for advice
Sure she’d take it no matter the price
Mom said, “Put some elbow grease in it”
So off she went to find the grime grit
It was only moments before she discovered
Her parents guffawing until they’d recovered
Make Me Laugh with Some Humor - Any Form - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
November 23, 2020
This story happened back in the 70’s before there was any knowledge of a product called Elbow Grease
It is one of life's little mysteries
Why with Luke things seems to go wrong
Maybe because he sticks his head
In places it don't belong
Today Luke got it stuck in a bucket
So to the hospital he did go
How on earth he managed to do it
Perhaps we'll never know
Because Luke is just not telling
He's a little embarrassed you see
I wondered why Luke was yelling
"Can someone please help me"
Most people at the hospital were laughing
Those that weren't did a polite cough
But with a huff and a puff and some elbow grease
The doctors managed to pull it off
Luke is feeling much better now
Though he does have quite a sore head
And his ears look a little swollen
And shining a very bright red.
A sprinkle of laughter
Turned steam with a kiss
A happily ever after
Drenched in bliss
A ray of trust
Shines brightly, two sided
The calm of dusk
When the light has guided
A pinch of elbow grease
A dash of selflessness
Makes for a life of peace
Understanding and forgiveness
A splatter of honesty
A spill of affection
Creates an art of loyalty
Headed in the right direction
A shiver of touch
Provides a tingle of pleasure
The task isn't much
The reward can't measure
A cup of praise
Becomes a bowl of thrive
Fills up the trays
And keeps romance alive
I’ve lost it. I’m exhausted.
I can’t handle another day of these
Auditory hallucinations. Doors creaking
Open Voices carrying around basins.
These days with no sleep
are starting to
Become costly,
to my overall health.
Wait, do I need help?
Hold up!
Grab a wrench!
grab your tool belt!
We’ve got to get this girl back to
Stellar mental health !
Wait, I’m not a machine?
I said to myself
They said it’s okay ma’am
We’re trained in these sorts
Of matters better than anybody else
Feeling stressed you say, take a shot
Of vodka while we take a look at you
Right away
A little elbow grease and your brain
Won’t be on its knees anymore
You’ll be back on your feet in no time
Miss, we can’t miss with our new
And improved stationery kits.
Just relax and you’ll improve
It’s not like you’re the only one
Going through this.
This poem was written about my small business. Perhaps it will mean something else to you.
Grow my little flower
Take all the time you need
Don't throw in the towel, over a shower
You were once a tiny seed
Look how you've grown
The stepping stones you cleared
You couldn't have possibly known
Until your beautiful buds appeared
Admire another's elegance
But don't take time to compare
beauty is nice, but dense
Let it float about the air
A swan may envy a peacock
Vibrant feathers, standing tall
Jealousy won't stop the clock
Before long, the swan will fall
If only the swan knew
The beauty she possessed
More feathers would accrue
As she gave life her very best
Life is a lovely dance
You were created to thrive
Embrace it with romance
Keep your hopes and dreams alive
Don't be discouraged by the time consumed
Becoming who you were meant to be
Remember how you bloomed
For all the world to see
It didn't happen over night
Storms and elbow grease
Don't live your life by fright
You are only here on lease
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY: LXXVIII
for Suzanne DELANEY, in appreciation
(Prelude: CAN THE WRONG MAN BE RIGHT ? ABSOLUTELY !
If only he were NOT guilty of the self-same crime !
For instance, here in Europe, acceding to « nationality»
status can be quite ludicrously irrational: those migrants
even "totally ignorant" of the host country’s culture
and official tongue obtain their "citizenship papers »
sooner or later, while clinging desperately to their
own culture and country to the exclusion of their hosts’- some more fortunatethough enjoy « dual nationality » and therefore DUAL rights to LOYALTY ! And talk tough once they take over responsibile positions in society. And the
ones on whom the latter prey most of all are precisely
those « other» less fortunate migrants at their mercy !)
IF ever I had a country, a country NOT « wholly" put together by
either IMMIGRANTS or REFUGEES, you see, but by conquering
IMPERIAL ENSLAVERS on the backs of blacks and
on those fleeing from hunger, from religious
intolerance as "indentured-labourers », mainly, you’ll agree
WHERE the indigene was routed and rounded up into
RESERVES through superior "fire-power" by the
COLONIAL and local ARISTOCRACY
AND where TAXES and LEVIES imposed by the « Foreign Power »
drove the locally-born MASTER to revolt against the MOTHER
COUNTRY
Until the whole CONTINENT united « nation » after « nation »
to become the foremost mid-twentieth century « COLONIAL »
SAVIOUR of the WORLD country
Only to find its internal structure and economic power usurped
by other NON-NATION constituting ethnies
AND one-by-one take over from the original WASP founding PATER
FAMILIAS confederacy
Yes, then, I’d keep the NEW-COMER from wagging his/her tongue or
shooting his/her mouth tout azimuth - despite the legislative mandate -
as though he/she were the backbone of the nation or from attempting to
take over my « dear » country as if it were their « god-given » patrimony
Even if I never ever had no country stuck together with spit and elbow-grease to look like a pyrotechnically-powere Bollywoodian jamboree
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, July 22, 2019
Sometimes some lost and lonely housewife I know well and knew put glossy
lip stick on and subtle pastel shade mascara plucked his brows and shaved
the pits of desperation the dust and grime the secretive desire longing
He cleaned the oven layered peeled the onion emerged in mouth watering
cheese cakes mixed the sweet and sour chilly icing with fresh fromage
fermenting homage to a new beginning of transition from the desperation
Not my cup of tea the make up with tattoos the belly ring and
hairy monsters on his pectoral and deltoid muscles but the pastry
pasted shaken not so pious pies tasted passionate the scent of musky
mushroom vanilla cinnamon the whole cliché of home made cooking
steaks for power sweet desert aphrodisiac temptations for the palate
palace coup palladium palliating plights of unforeseen façade and masquerade
Defeating gender stereotypes and prejudice his wife left broom cuisine
and cruising hoovers steely wool to his resolve and elbow grease but the
good partner who she was helped with the dishes when the dishy romance
ceased to be when both of them were desperate shattered broken devastated
wives and house mates
Their Pandora’s box the can of wriggly worms once opened left his bosom swell
his skin and features soften the pheromones transform their scent aroma
tone and meter of their conversation pitched up once the vocal chords strung higher
and he cut the naval chord which boxed him for so long in a body of a stranger
My friend and desperate house wife Paul is Paula now and she lives with her girl
another gender convert and is not incarcerated not desperate any longer she is free
Her ex-wife Ruby lives with Rosa now transcending yet another artificial boundary in rapturous coming of time and liberation and I love them dearly just the same
19th June 2016
Written for contest: Desperate Housewife
Sponsor Poet Destroyer A
All I do all day is think about you & check your school app to see how your day is going, don't ever let anyone tell you I don't care or I'm not there because that would be deceit their showing, you are my family my superhero my saving grace,I look so forward to every other weekend daddy gets ninja focused when I see your face, thinking about leaving you a legacy & not a lease which means I have to get to it & use a little more elbow grease, things started off rocky but we still climbing to the top & what daddy tell you we gonna make it because we never stop
Most old ranches in the West, have a history of their past
Legends and tales about ranching in hard time
Blood, sweat, tears and a lot of elbow grease
The at the 5Y, those days are long past
The last 40 years it has been nothing but crime
Day and night, there is no real peace
July, 1976, I was shoeing horses for a living
Southern, New Mexico, the Sun was jalepeno hot
Pulled up to the 5Y, before it got to warm
Was supposed to be a horse breeding farm, but that was deceiving
Something about that day I never forgot
I knew that I was in for a storm
The owner's name was Sawford, had not bathed in days
In his office, a metal table, dirty mattress. bottle of whiskey and a .45
Told me where the mares were at, would pay me when I was done
I started to think about changing my ways
A gut feeling told me to work fast, if I was going to get out alive
Sweating like a fool, it was not all the Sun
Four miles to the border, many strange things happen there
At lunch, I stopped for a bite to eat
Found a tree near by, so I sat in the shade
A big black Lime drove up, driven by a pair
In business suits, Sawford they were there to meet
It was his day to get paid
I knew it was Mafiaoso, but i did not want to know why?
I went to pounding iron and driving nails
When i finished he gave me a $100 and to keep the change
I wanted to be out if there and did want to die
And all I could think of was "Happy Trails"
It was no longer "Home On The Range"
There was a man who did a deed,
though not of hate, or even greed
'twas innocent, or so he thought
'til everyone was overwrought
They crossed their arms
and stomped their feet,
one sent out an angry tweet
another just unfriended him
then instagram-med him looking grim
He sank into a deep, deep funk
how could one free of sin debunk
these angry people's thought's about
his deed, indeed he had some doubt
Had he done wrong and misbehaved?
Would his reputation, e'er be saved ?
How could he fix this sorry state
where all he knew, now all knew hate?
His mind began to twist and turn
he thought of all he'd ever learned
of the mind of man (and woman too)
what words would work, perhaps a few
could he deploy to change their minds
and quickly put this funk behind?
And then, a spark; a flash of brilliance
a solution that could work for millions!
He'd write some code, something really cool
not just fix his problem; he'd make a tool
so the next time, well really, just in case
he'd ever need to save some face
he wouldn't have to think so much
of right and wrong and hurt and such
that took so long and felt so bad
and made him feel so very sad
And so he used some elbow-grease
and wrote himself a masterpiece
a java applet that all could use
when they really needed a good excuse
Just point it at your address book
(though you may want to give it one quick look)
and make sure your bosses' name ain't there
though in truth, he probably wouldn't care
to read your very personal regret
or if he did, he'd likely forget
Your mea culpa then gets sent
to everyone who may resent
your gaffe, or blunder or big faux pas
whatever's making your nerves raw
a personal email from you, to UNSUPPORTED CODE
that simply says, I TAKE THE BLAME!
Screwdriver
Hammer
Elbow grease
© RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
17th October, 2014
8/15/17
Beyond guns and funds
Involving moons and suns
From here to kingdom come
And then some
By the skin of one's teeth
Above and beneath
Any peak
Near and far from fields of wheat
Or creeks
Won't always be a cinch
Even in a pinch
Just might cause you or others to flinch
Thus requiring the use of a winch
All along
Rather get it right then wrong
And do a bang-up job
Before I'm gone
Don't be an egghead
Caught up with what he and she said
Make sure you and your family stay fed
It may require a lot of elbow grease
Despite if you just want peace
And to buy and make your family a feast with meats and sweets
Whether or not it has to do with your pockets getting obese
Regardless of similar and different beliefs
Will everything eventually cease?
So many want only to decorate
Over life, dapple in shiny paint
From responsibility, they choose to excuse
Their delicate hands from such a bruise
They are irked, if asked to lurk
In the murk of work
They think they are owed a road
That is freely breezy
After all, it is easy
To do what is easy
To do what is hard
Takes more regard
Elbow grease ain't pretty
But you need nitty-gritty
To build a city
It is not the starry-eyed seeker of fame
Who is processing your insurance claim
Or unclogging your drains, or growing your grains
That sleek-cheeked, vainglorious movie star
Isn't down at the garage, fixing your car
Spare me the confetti and pompous flash
My admiration is for those picking up my trash
Let's cheer the truck driver and the cashier
The factories and taxis that bring jobs here
The blue-collar unions that creates careers
From lessons of concessions during depressions
A paycheck's a better bet
Than esoteric expressions.
7/06/20