Best Folding Poems
Blinds were drawn,
slid closed.
So she folded herself,
collapsed
In familiar retreat,
Along similar lines
going weak
Giving in again
to movement
Of leg's levers pulling
thighs to belly
Drawing in again
her arms
Creased at elbows,
touching ribs
Paperthin-skinned
flightless wings
Hands neat wrapped
round knees
Neck dropping
head to rest
Chin to chest,
while coolness
Of. white sheet's pleats
firmly defied
Evening's crumpled
humid heat
Strange comfort
covered
A mind stripped,
as day fades
Lines had been drawn,
light complied
On the knotted spine
with its own
Two-tone arise
and drop,
Curved with a need
for sleep
On the dotted line,
a sinking
Head to toe
beneath
Time's horizon.
And so, she slept,
bent double
Once more folded
and foiled
Blood and flesh,
origami style,
Dark and lightly
blinded bird.
Aqua Marine.
May 8th, 2017.
folding wishes
origami
whispers
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
ottaman empire
armenian genocide
with pride,tradition
One foot here and the other there
Celestial light shines down
on the folding fan
channeling the wind from North to East,
to South, and lastly West
Cherry blossom petals slowly rain
and scarlet petals of dying flowers
join the westward winds
Another step here and another there
This folding fan will guide the way
on the path of faith, patience, wisdom, humility, and elegance
in this sacred dance
Amend them errant, wavy ways,
put a cease crease in those idol traditions
Don’t give servile salutes to the droopy god
of billowy doctrines
What price will be paid
for giving homage to carnage superstitions?
Acquiescence of pagan silence ...
wrapped cloth around the pursed mouth
Complicity bandits are making solemn,
stolen moments oaths
in the pulmonary pulse inner sanctum
Sworn statements of allegiance
are wavy by nature
Unstable, irrational reasoning
will sway to and fro with the economic breeze
Bellowing winds are shifting
on the sienna, blood-colored horizon
Nothing is seen amiss tho,
as mercenary valor is uniformly outsourced —
a quiet necessity of paper bought bravery
And the people are told
to go back to a peaceful, covetous sleep
Folding of the hands,
closing of the eyes
Return to a deep REM knee bend,
with prosthetic lungs limping
Green dreams of profit frogs jumping,
pocketbook tea got a war blend
An open casket of lies,
half-mast loyalty be the making of flag demands
Pray to the idol image
that is always pendulum swaying
Folding of the flag,
bury the truth in a pitch black body bag
Purchase a toe tag,
return to sender when the death sales lag
I
My wife folds the towels.
She is the correct folder
as opposed to me.
II
I have learned many
ways of folding towels poorly
over porous years.
III
The other folders
would not agree about much
except about me.
Six months after my Mother decided to move
out of the house, which only she and I shared.
Had not surprisingly been swept on a messy path
during preceding time.
In nondescript depot, Northern suburbs of Adelaide
We met while waiting on stationary city bound bus
I was 16, you 14, shared only gender and addiction
Your two finger signal to me, initial encouragement
Together we stepped out, sat down with ease
A pocket produced the cigarette you requested
Yet to realise your soon apparent clairvoyance
As my Angel, our meeting was ardour suspended
With nonchalance of street-wise, I shrugged a reply
"Just heading to the City, - see what's going on"
You ascertained vague expression between lines
Guaged I had nowhere prescribed to belong
Insistence that I come to your house unwarranted
I swallowed order with gratitude, steaming broth's bowl
Shock shot lame my stiff stance, flowing warmth translated
Riding the bus beside a friend, unlikely dream unfolded
A typical teenager, you lived with your family, to become
My family for the next four months, a premature adult's reprieve
Your three sisters, one brother equalled four full bedrooms
Her pure generosity allowed your Mum to willingly shelter me
Had my cashless, city bound track occurred, I shudder
to guess at possible horror hapless trajectory offered
Shahanna, the miracle of our co inciding invited my rescue
A chance for childhood dependance given to the discarded
Indebted to Shahanna's proximity, God's will
Folding clothes
Seems like such a simple thing, doesn't it?
Time consuming but necessary
and everyone does it just a little differently.
A T shirt folded lenghtwise then in half
then half again or in threes.
No, fold in half across the chest
then half again tucking in the sleeves.
What does it matter,
someone's preference, that's all.
We all wear the same, don't we?
But even that may differ
some generations wear them inside out.
Are we really that different?
Folding clothes and living life
are like choosing socks
either way, in the end
They fit.
Directions of Folding
I saw a horrible accident
Ocean blue papered Holiday dry cleaning
Bundled tight
Not her place to cross
Not between the lines
Ignored directions
She flew
High
Confetti tossed skyward
Red, green, blue, skin
A holiday popper
So odd to see a body fly
Twist, turn
Somersault tumbling in the air
A baby doll thrown
Kaleidoscoped view
Her body forgot the order in the sky
Directions of folding
As the potpourri of cloth, paper, skin
Crumbled to the soiled ground
A towel after washing
Clothes from wearing
Napkin following a meal
Body after crash
No care of bend, fold, crease
Done with use
Discarded directions
She crumpled amongst rumpled napkin, paper, cloth
Scattered littering the road
Not along the creases
So unnatural the folding
Origami limb
First published: Page & Spine
folding chairs
folding clothes
climb the stairs
the garden hose
needs rewound
writing tablets
writing checks
feed the cat
the kids have yet
to come home
washing machine
washing dishes
fix my hair
send best wishes
to the newly-weds
cleaning rags
cleaning rugs
clean the house
making love
while planning
a new kitchen
Folding and embracing someone in extreme pain
with the compassion of a merciful saint:
when those moribund eyes look downward,
as breath becomes heavy and life can't sustain
its heartbeat , but those hands are too weak to clasp;
give your last gift, say the softest word...
Comfort and be comforted when the final hour comes for all,
when a person suddenly dies, a conceived baby will be born;
it's a cycle that keeps our human race from extinction:
observe the animal kingdom, never inactive or slow,
even trees and flowers duplicate themselves in jollification
by the kindness of every wind of the actual season...
Folding and embracing someone in extreme pain,
someone of a different race, not making distinction of color;
everyone of us is a beautiful and perfect creation of God,
so let the same love flow and leave your prejudice beyond:
see through the eyes of charity, never divide and compare:
the uniqueness of an individual can be shared by all...
The greed and wickedness of Mankind can't control the relentless rush,
until immense harm is done: wars are fought and lives are lost by the thousands,
and the spilling of blood is not regarded as guilt on their remorseless hands,
many weeping mothers lean over their dead children, with more viable in their wombs:
summon the evil man to the Almighty God whose judgement is harsh,
and be assured that the Divine Justice will make them toss in their inescapable tombs...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Folding chairs
Folding sheets...napkins and
self
Tuck the ruffled edges...the creases
the bound corners deep
Hide them in the formation of perfect squares and
Straightforward lines
Slowly..carefully smooth out the visable top layers
till like a smooth as glass sea on a pale October morning
All remants and reminders of froth ...foam and fury
are forgotten in the haze and daze
of molten light reflecting only off the surface
Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
I load the washing machine up with my dirty wishes
Found myself lost and broken in the kicthen
All the writing on the bathroom stalls
Surpasses the shoppers at the malls
And why must I write about you at all
You come before me and you think it a lark
it's circumstances Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
Swimming in odd-houses while cutting class
Grown up thinking pew is a piece of church furniture
Watermelon basketball salmon crochet patties
Wring on the sidewalk with a broken bleeding thumb
Picking up harden day old chewing gum
You come before me and you think it a lark
it's circumstances Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
Now while you are trying to comprehensive and make sense of my lines
Don't condemn me because my words don't make sense
I'm no more or less educated than a bowl of pink grapes
Bet you gonna try and fluctuate and define my lines of morphemes
And why must I worry about you at all
You come before me and you think I am lost
it's circumstances Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
11/25/17
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
People who enjoy sex
have a sex addiction.
The depressed must
take a pill to be balanced.
The fat must flee to surgery
instead of a pushup
Children who are being children
must be labeled.
Send them
to another capsule...
then they will regain proper behavior
Handicap spaces are full;
full of able legs and arms.
If hungry,
you must devour,
not eat.
Being told it goes bad quickly,
you must purchase another coarse.
Idols glorify lives,
If they were to kill,
as would you.
You are told to type...
not write,
so you type.
You buy a stick of gum,
but must pay tax.
The sign says stop
you must abide
or a ticket is delivered
right on time.
If a drunk needs a drink
to escape. He is a
drunk.
I sure do wish I could fold space,
and quickly slip from place to place
like bending pages of a map,
and thus eliminate the gap,
connect a destination’s source,
arriving right on time, of course.
But if I tried that with a pad,
I’d snap the glass; that would be bad!
Perhaps an app with drag and drop
from where you are to where you stop.
You’d need a way to keep it clean
without a wipe down of the screen.
Imagine spilling pizza sauce;
you’d scrub away and end up lost.
Perhaps a special stylus pen:
confirm okay or start again.
But frankly I don’t have much luck;
I’d lose the pen and wind up stuck.
I guess we’ll leave things as they are;
I’ll stick to driving my old car.