Best Laundry Basket Poems
Do-B-Do was my first cat as an adult.
I really wasn’t sure I even wanted a cat.
My ex wanted a kitten and I gave in,
we picked the sweet fluffy female one.
She was a grey tabby with yellow eyes.
I soon fell in love with her, she was feisty!
She loved to lay with me at night and
snuggle up to my chest, purring for hours.
She was my best friend and made me laugh.
She had a unique cry, like a Siamese breed.
My ex was not very kind and sometimes explosive.
He became angry and I remember hiding her,
she quietly stayed put in the laundry basket.
I think she knew what was happening, that
I was protecting her from the monster.
She was with me through some dark times.
She helped me through deaths and a divorce.
She cuddled with me every night for years.
She was very jealous of my attention to others,
but warmed up to my husband right away.
She adapted to having six cat siblings
and moving to a new place to live.
She loved to chatter at the birds.
She would sit and wait at the window to watch.
I never let her run free outside, afraid to lose her.
She lived to be twenty-two years old.
Her kidneys were failing, we tried to save her.
I remember looking her in eyes that day.
She said to me it was time to let her go as
I saw a vision of an orange colored tabby.
I was so heartbroken after her death.
I decided it was time for another female cat.
I went to the animal shelter and there she was,
a beautiful calico cat, I knew this was the cat for me.
That day Ru-B was adopted and I felt at peace.
8/8/2020
Contest: All Pets Go To Heaven
Sponsor: Constance La France
Sock Returns
The washer absconded with a sock
Then went into an agitated cycle
Blamed the dryer for the missing thing
The dryer accused the weather
Said it never saw the red and yellow item
Or the hole at the top between the toes
The one that gave it a distinctive glow and character
When pressed on the point of having so much knowledge
About an object never seen
The dryer screamed, shut up and closed its lid
A lawyer was called in
A detective became involved
Washer & dryer refused to cooperate
It was too late for that
The washer washed
The dryer dried
The world turned in its style just the same
When the red and yellow sock turned up
Hole and all, in the laundry basket
Nothing drastic to report
But happy that the sock returned unharmed
To join the other waiting there
No less the wear to make a proper pair
(Part 1 of Trilogy for My Father)
His shoes by the front door make me cry
like his glasses resting atop an
unfinished crossword
and his toothbrush in its holder
the bristles still damp.
And I wonder...
Did he brush his teeth before he
put the gun to his heart?
A cereal bowl waits in the sink
The laundry basket overflows
"To Do" lists adorn the refrigerator.
Suicide is not on the list, and I am
almost surprised.
He was a tidy person, neat
organized almost to the point of obsession
That's how he lived; that's how he died.
But Dad...
I'd have felt better if, for once in your life
you'd left a mess. But no
even in the ultimate act of selfishness,
you strove to be polite, choosing to lie
on the shower's cold tiles, no doubt
thinking we could just flush the blood away
with the turn of a faucet.
Yes, the place is spotless.
A tiny trace of blood, a single gouged tile
are the only signs that a life ended here.
It seems, somehow, that there should be more.
Throughout the animal kingdom,
There are commonalities, don’t you think?
One of the strongest among them
Is an inborn maternal instinct.
She wouldn’t leave her litter
To go outside and save herself;
Instead she stayed beside them
And barked and howled for help.
He rushed into the burning building,
Not sure of what he’d find;
The smoke and fire very thick,
Making him practically blind.
He followed a path to the sounds
Of the barking, howls and yelps;
Being a dog owner himself,
He knew he had to help.
He found them in the laundry room;
A mother dog and her six pups.
He used an empty laundry basket
To pick the newborns up.
She stayed close to his side
As he led them out of harms way;
He checked out each of her little pups
To make sure they were okay.
Sometimes we wonder if animals feel
The same emotions that we do;
The lick she planted on his face
Sure felt like gratitude.
Throughout the years this fireman
Had rescued many souls,
But the rescue of this dog and pups
Is the one he most often told.
NOTE: In verse 5, instead of "mother dog" I wanted to use the accepted term for a
mother dog - "b_tch", but PS would not accept that word - damn, I mean darn!
Where do socks go
When the washer stops?
Where do they go
When the washer stops?
Through the laundry mist
They escape
One goes astray
And another lays motionless
In the laundry basket
Where do socks go
When the washer stop?
Washday at the Zoo
Peg out the elephants!
Hang up the hippos!
Let the bison and wildebeest
blow and billow in the wind!
Fluff out your flamingoes
with fabric softeners.
Stick the swans on a pre-wash
and get 'em whiter than white.
Rhinos can go in on 95
and they'll still come out
a disappointing grunge of khaki-grey.
(So much for the blandishments
of the adman).
Do tigers and zebras
on a low cycle
or the stripes will run.
Take care with gerbels,
they're liable to shrink.
Sort out yer primates
and read the labels --
howlers are different from chimps.
Oh! And watch out for snakes!
They tend to slither about
at the bottom of the laundry basket.
One emerald green one
amongst a flock of pastel doves
will cause untold havoc!
Margaret Clerici
laundry basket
filled with clean clothes --
the cat takes a nap
6/18/16
Once we were a matching pair, some days we’d get downbeat
as we both couldn't abide the stench of sweaty cheesy feet!
Our male owner would pop us in the washing machine
with warm soapy suds we’d soon smell fresh and clean
But now my ‘sole mate’ has gone missing and I am bereft
I was worn on the right foot, and he was worn on the left
Our owner removed the washing machine gasket
then checked the tumble drier and laundry basket
Alas my companion is still missing, life just isn’t fair
a single sock is useless, and I’m filled with despair
So my owner’s sock stock has now been depleted
and with my partner gone I’m feeling de-feeted!
What use is one sock, maybe one day I’ll be ‘heeled’
if the sock monster’s secret stash is suddenly revealed!
So for now I am consigned to the back of a drawer
with other odd socks and I'm sure there’ll be lots more!
I look up into your smiling eyes
I see happiness
I look at your stance
I see a solid foundation
For us to join together
To be as one ...I will be your bride
Dressed in virginal white
(Guess our holiday together doesn't count)
Our days from now on will be filled with laughter
No more tears of frustration because we're apart
To wake up next to your curly head of hair
Will try to forget the snoring bit
Ear plugs easily used, that leaves one thing
Maybe I should remember my manners ...just say
Please leave your socks in laundry basket.
I love you my man
Penned 7 September 2017
Contest: Shadow Hamilton ...Bride to Future Groom.
One day a laundry basket felt rather full. Heavy. Weighted. Lots of mixtures tumbled together. Not placed. Just thrown in. In no order. How could it be that the ironing board had nice neat piles whilst he the dutiful laundry basket had a mish mash assortment of colours and fabrics. Strewn. Some even caught in his lovely sides. He considered them elegant. But sometimes he had been left in a kitchen and a pig had gone past him and oinked at him and left rather a nasty smell. Always a smell. Even when the clothes came from William washing machine they had a strange aroma. Oh dear. Must find a way to get outside and stay outside. The clitter clatter arrival of the pans spoke the time. Dinner. Great. Here they all are. Trudging past me. Overlooked. Kicked out of the way by the younger ones. Filled I sit till that lady puts the clothes in. But William is broke and badly needs draining which will mean a very wet floor. Great. Well at least the clothes can be thrown down to absorb some of William's waste. It must be a paper packet that has stuck in a pipe. Put in a pocket. Or one of those bright bags that goes out with that dog. I like that dog. He does not woof at me or growl. He always is smiling. Now I sleep. It takes ages for them to cook. I assume it will be tommorow that I am upstairs all day. But for tonight I will rest here on this kitchen stool. And I do hope the pig does not snore too loud. Sweet dreams all. Love from the laundry basket. X
The laundry basket filled with clothes
Stares at me from its place
Resting in hall like many foes
No one tries to win race
Or win prize for folding laundry
Remembering when teen
How anxiously wanted to be
Grown about this very keen
Gullible, naive was this girl
Now the laundry sit waits
By the basement door as if pearl
A pearl of a prize mates
I open the door for my son,
while he carries his laundry basket
full of clean clothes out to his car.
He says, "Thank you mama.
I love you mama."
He's a prison guard and I worry.
While I watch him walk off, I say,
"Be careful. I love you."
and shed a tear.
Letting go is so hard.
Wishing he was still young and at home again.
To hold and protect him of what is waiting
for him out there in the world.
Then, I wonder of what I have been taught,
to leave him in the Lord's hand, not mine.
I ponder of moments similar,
when I have fallen away from God's faith.
I need to remind myself,
trust in God and his word.
He has never failed me,
but always guided me in my life.
9-3-2014
This is what awaits at home -
(I'll try explaining in a poem).
Taxi line or Uber call.
Heat I cannot take at all.
Mail piled up and plants a'droop.
Empty fridge or fruit-turned goop.
Messages on the machine.
Headlines that I haven't seen.
Laundry basket quickly filled.
Jet lag feelings 'bout to build.
Car begrimed and yes, by cricket,
Windshield likely sports a ticket.
Just this morning, eggs and scones
But flying home to local zones,
I'll need some time to readjust
Before the mem'ries turn to dust.
“Oh my, the weather out is real nice!” Said the Papa Turkey.
“Hey Mrs. Gobbler get the kids. Lets go for a nice Fall stroll.”
“Line up now. Listen to your Ma.”
The rafter of little poults wobbles by like Russian stacking dolls.
The gaggle gobble around the apple orchard,
pecking at fallen bruised apples and protruding worms.
Smoke comes from the farmhouse. A woman is hanging clothes on the line.
The farmer emerges from the woodshed carrying an ax.
“Hey Papa," said Mrs. Gobbler "look at the ole coot all bare-chested."
You have a better pair of breasts than he does!”
The Farmer's pace quickens, as he nears Mrs. Gobbler.
She flies laughing onto a branch an apple tree
which overhangs the duck pond. The kids scatter.
Papa does a running take off from the dirt path landing on the Farmer’s bare chest,
pushing him and his ax into the pond. Mrs. bombs the Farmer with dangling apples.
The kids pick up acorns and pelt the farmer in the head with them. There he sits surrounded
by bobbing apples and flaoting acorns, spewing water and wiping the hair from his eyes.
“My, my, my” says Papa Turkey.
“Sure does look like a tasty Farmer stew! Too bad we don’t have acorn biscuits.”
The woman drops her laundry basket and falls on the ground laughing.
“You Ole fool!” She says.
“You better try the chickens! This year the turkeys have your number!”
“But watch out for flying eggs! No yolking!”
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Cats will sleep anywhere
On a couch or in a chair
Table top or window ledge
On the top or near the edge
Open drawer or empty shoe
Or anybody's lap will also do
Those card board boxes too
Any size cat's able to fit into
Laundry basket of clean clothes
Making bread with their toes
Spreading around all that hair
Because cats will sleep anywhere