Best Rinsing Poems
Kittens In The Barn
He stops and removes his boots before opening the door. He enters the kitchen and smells the familiar aroma of morning coffee.
"Breakfast's ready, have a seat. How're the kittens" his wife asks.
"Damn cat" he says. "Should have run her off when she showed up last year". "Don't know why she stays where she ain't wanted". "Nothing but a nuisance is all she is". "Now got all those little ones running around". "I hate cats".
She gives him his plate and pours him a cup of coffee. He hungrily digs in, sopping up
his eggs with a warm biscuit. He tips his cup and pours some coffee in his saucer,
blowing on it to cool it off. "Damn cat" he mumbles.
When finished, he carries his dishes to the sink, rinsing them and setting them aside.
When her back is turned he quickly grabs the saucer and stuffs it in the pocket of his
bibs. "I'm going to milk the cows he says". "Take care" she calls, pretending not to
notice. In another moment he is gone.
He grabs his stool and bucket and sets to milking, the warm liquid quickly consuming the
container. He rises and walks into a distant stall. Bending down, he pulls out the
purloined saucer and fills it from the bucket in his hand. He places it beside the
squirming litter and watches as they stagger to its brim.
"Damn cat" he mutters. "Don't know why she stays where she ain't wanted".
Categories:
rinsing, animals, people
Form:
Narrative
A time of rinsing the sins
A month of happy moods
The way we face god unfacingly
The way we walked our prophets way
The moon a symbol that guides
A creation of allah intwined
Its light reflecting our fast
Till the day breaks does it last
Categories:
rinsing, faithallah,
Form:
Verse
k i n d n e s s
is the petrichor perfume
enveloping the sky,
between~
you and I
as clouds splatter juniper sprinkles,
coalescing stubborn storms,
rinsing away stained foams
with raining roses,
serenading hymns of heaven,
calming the internal conflicts
like soft rays of morning stars…
Tonight, I follow the distant sirens,
echoing sagas of the soothing sun,
seeking c o m f o r t
through soft feathers,
unfurling love laced in lilac
and lavender,
while candles and crystals
radiate radiant rubies,
elevating elegance,
enhancing z e s t.
For in the corners of my heart~
thrive twinkling tendrils
of tulip twilight,
wishing upon swirling sparks
of firefly wings;
'let this world be a diamond haven,
where compassion is the dialect
that eases thunder-struck seas..'
So remember…
I’ll be there when curtains close.
Listen to the breeze
carrying my prose,
written with timeless glitters.
Tell me that I am the name,
the crooning tern that glides above
resilient ripples’ whispers.
Tell me that the mauve moon
veiled in mellow mists
reminds you of me…
as I still weave k i n d n e s s
in kaleidoscopic ink,
to erase the darkness
that f a l l s upon your silken silhouette.
Categories:
rinsing, moon, remember,
Form:
Free verse
It was a miserable existence,
that of a battered wife
It was a never ending cycle
of a hurt-filled violent life
She always walked on eggshells,
avoided direct eye contact
Did nothing that would get him balled-fist riled up
She always spoke in a timid voice,
deferred on every household decision
Never did complain when the sex was too rough
Ofttimes it wasn't even her
that would get his pot boiling
Get him steamed and hopping mad
It could be the telly news,
the neighbor's cat
Or the photo of his mum and dad
It was a daily chore,
washing away the pain
that was mixed in with the bloodstains
It was a daily chore,
rinsing away the tears
that was mixed in with the whiskey and beers
And each night before turning out the light,
she has to take her daily dose of verbal abuse
Then tiredly arise with swollen, sullen eyes —
rehearse to neighbors another recycled excuse
And for a few hours she gets to enjoy
a quiet space that is blissfully sweet
Escape in daydreams before she faces
the daily grind of wash, rinse, repeat
This is one of my never-commented-on poems.
It deals with a disturbing issue, domestic violence.
Originally posted on 10-7-2016
— Romantic Warrior
Categories:
rinsing, abuse, anxiety, marriage, sad,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Waves on the rocks
a'crashing
In it human feet go
splashing
And elsewhere in the
swollen river
'gator tails go thrashing
Water may be stagnant
or it may be thus moving
Sometimes softly
dripping
at times forcefully
gushing
In brooks babbling
In streams gurgling
In springs bubbling
In rivers running
From faucets freely
flowing
or from pipes coercingly
spurting
At times noisily sloshing
But in lakes musically
rippling
In it diving and wading
In it refreshing bathing
Or spic and span
cleansing, rinsing
In it slow sailing or
speedy surfing
Fishermen fishing or
busy boating
Ah water, through cracks
seeping
From waterfalls
cascading
As rainwater splattering
From sprinklers
sprinkling.
From hoses spattering
From rooftops streaming.
In whirlpools swiftly
swirling
From taps simply trickling
Elsewhere rushing,
whooshing
Ah yes water is life,
water tis a böon
except when it goes
flooding, drowning
or tsunami sea-quaking!
Then only it becomes a
bane
as it drags dreams and
dreamers
down the drain!
But oughtn't we be
preserving
instead of forever
polluting
This precious liquid so
valuable to life
Oughtn't we be saving?
Instead of negligent
wasting?
Categories:
rinsing, water,
Form:
Rhyme
The wild berries of the Northwest
it seems every path you walk on , they are there for you to sample ,
Almost as The city of Portland itself is welcoming you with astonishing beauty, the view of a snow tipped Volcano , as if greeting you with a basket full of fresh wild Marion berries
The beauty, just picked plump , the color of dark purple
a fragrance to savor , what will I do ?
will I make a pie or preserves ?
Oh the pancakes and waffles , the Tillamook ice cream is a must ~
After rinsing the fresh picked Berries with water and dusting them with fine Sugar , a hint of cinnamon , if pie , waffle , or cake . maybe just plain ,
serve with whipped cream made from scratch and a leaf of mint .
The Salmon , the berries , roses and apples all in the Great Northwest ,
You may visit however be warned , for many have come this way
Many have travelled a far ,
For the great Spirit of This Northwest will encompass and astound you .
Begging your soul to stay and live the way of a Portlander .
Give me rain I say , for the green here will blind you, it is
like walking off the black and white set of Wizard of Oz,
and opening the amazing door to Colors .
Categories:
rinsing, america, analogy, beautiful, beauty,
Form:
Blank verse
Is there such a thing
as a prolifically sad time?
Surely, there is and was and still can be.
Every generation has had it, sees it,
some, more than once and those must question,
How can this possibly be?
Again?
Blacks with slavery.
Jews with holocaust.
Whites with inequality.
Multitudes with ethnic genocide,
so much non-success of political correctness.
There shall always be
a prolific sadness in the world.
Collectively,
Mankind is foolish, stupid, almost unrepentant,
unlearned and defiantly ignorant,
repeating the mistakes of history,
sacrificing one life for thousands
and thousands for one;
rinsing and repeating,
cleansing and burning,
tearing down and building up,
only to begin again;
remaining continuously,
uneducated in the lessons of life and sadness
and repeating the mistakes of history.
Categories:
rinsing, history,
Form:
Ballad
Her curves are rinsing their endless constellation
beneath hot rainfalls of white shower steam,
which is why I stand quiet, sinfully agape even
and willfully paralyzed by an ambrosia of slender echoes.
A drunken prize fighter, dazed by countless punches I spin
from the twirling parasol of her sexy, fitted hips-- when finally,
as the winds of lust muffle in her bath towel, she chuckles
her red-petal lips contour the silent words.. “I love you”
I'm hit by the crack of thunder that that stops everything
dizzied by the just-popped blossom that steals all the newborn light,
the kind that even moribund butterflies take drifting detours to see
before their wings lose all starlit desires to fly above the soil.
Here.. somehow.. in the question mark of my good fortune
she stands like a bouquet of lightning, catching, and natural.
Her light tips over a glass of my words, spilling incoherence everywhere
my senses scramble to pick up scattered bits of tongue-tied sweet talk
but I admit defeat, I admit hilarious defeat.
I turn ten shades of red, still-- after six years of marriage
I am the thorn-- she is the rose-- and together we make love.
August 23, 2016
Categories:
rinsing, flower, love, marriage, together,
Form:
Free verse
Like the lost sounds of evening bells
The voices of children pealing
The last lie of innocence in papyrus away;
Not the baubled brook in joy;
The rinsing screams soliciting crude customs back,
Spreading phonetic fingers of laughter for aid;
Our tone dead heart hears nothing
But self-cloying honey, leached and leaking
From comb-cells flaccid to the bone.
These times have lost more than silver steeples or steel
Bright hope aspiring to the sun;
We poor Daedalus by sight driven lust
Watch in writhing disgust autumn unwinging us
Shearing golden trees of leaves against the brawny breeze;
What architect built the broken oak?
Our Icarus from heaven is shaken. Trust
Falling - all proven traditions past!
The lives of children in an hour glass
Tell, myths were better than this Midas dream
Categories:
rinsing, caregiving, children, lost, autumn,
Form:
Free verse
Love has become a splendid thing, I love you
Interchanging your soul, our souls in the fog
Of morning drizzling like joy upon the grass.
I will awake this morning, I know I shall
When I am awaken I will sing with you
I am singing for you, I know that I am
All the poems that like fresh mountain springs
Come into my heart trickling soft and slow
And pure, and clean, but above all fresh
Very fresh the scent of your nakedness, your smile
As your eyes open into my eyes looking at you
Telling you in every language and tone I love you
You will remember our lives forever wrapped
In the heart of a morning, and you will sing too
Rinsing, washing, cleansing, until our days are pure
Of yesterday's hard memories, of dark longings
And conditions that predisposed our former misery.
Roan is the color of the horse in my heart
Galloping madly to meet your gallop in the pass.
I love you, I love you, I love you, again and again
The heart will say because it cannot speak eternity.
Man speak of love then with so much vanity
Knowing that evening comes leaving a mound in the yard
The place where every grass is scraped away like a bruised knee
O darling the dream is tomorrow, memory is tomorrow
But love, our love, is for always, for all mornings
Filled with singing:
Listen to birds breaking out in chorus
Listen to bees in perfect rhythm keeping beat
With the harmony of trees, and the alto of tides
Listen, listen I say to the rivers rushing
Up the scale. Morning is like a tree laden with love
I sing it to you forever, forever, forever, I love you.
Categories:
rinsing, love, heart, heart, love,
Form:
Free verse
When Steven leaves Grace, she continues and carries on living
By inertia usually lasting twelve days, giving
Jokes as such “Stevie, it’s ridiculous, but it is your life”
Only then skies start to rot and wither over Steve’s wife.
“It is no longer a life”, Grace is stating as a merchant
“Shape, texture and color of the good is no more a penchant”
No more fail disappointment and victory satisfaction
She says pulling the curtain “And it is just a mere fraction
Of the whole picture, where are you, dweeb? You have diabetes
And who is out there cooking for you when you need it, sweetie?”
Grace sells Steve’s musical intruments not to hurt or to venge.
She drinks in excess forgetting to take care of self. Revenge!
She sits on the porch next to the door like a silent mastiff –
She’s waiting for that holy moment of returning of Steve.
One day Steven does come back with wine, pastry and a new knife.
Looks at her tenderly jokes “Who’s hiding in the closet, wife?”
Grace is hecticly cleaning, rinsing glasses tense as a string
But then breaks down into tears and sobs “Is she thin? How’s your spring?”
“Why are you happily together and I’m alone and cling?”
In one year Steve passes at a blink of an eye “We did everything we could…”
Grace is there to touch his hair and throw a random chunk of earth at him. She should.
And then all disappears – letters and digits – there’s nothing but zeroes a la crude.
One day all that pain (like a pussy cat) is settled within Grace (like in a box)
Real life has another producer some other bar code, other time on the clocks
While hers is made up of those who don’t return overnight or later on to rock
And of sliding heaven doors are working on entrance only. The exit is faux.
Categories:
rinsing, relationship,
Form:
Lyric
Did you forget me
Inquire you not today
Dry clouds on the line
Yearn I now for you
One drop of dew on my tongue
Urging my sad heart
Flow no sound of sky
Or earth sweet as your breath here
Rinsing my sadness
Give me sweet reason
Eternal joy to embrace
Thrilled that you are well
Make this silence leave
Ebb my heart in its still day
Did you forget me
Edged at night waiting
Alone, the moon of your presence,
Restless till clouds go.
Categories:
rinsing, friendshipsweet, sweet,
Form:
Haiku
Natures Moonshine
A soft rain, needle point sharp, cold
yet refreshingly welcome
gentle tremors teased the flowers
droplets trickling down parched petals
washing away the footprints of the bees.
Leaves collect coolness on tree’s perimeter
a bucket brigade delivering water
to the heated core of baked roots
fueling their desire to reach deeper
in pursuit of a diminishing need.
Birds, frolicking in shallow wading pools
rinsing the protective dust coat clean
preening themselves in dappled reflections
singing – in the rain
dancing beneath a flickering streetlight.
Blades of grass – applauding in the gentle breeze
guide the chilling rivulets toward their roots
exhale a sigh of sweet relief
invite the worms to cool themselves
beneath a dripping August moon.
John G. Lawless
7/30/2015
Categories:
rinsing, nature, rain, summer,
Form:
Free verse
A boy called Dapo
Egocentric fellow
Girls howl in July's kisses
Lies, monthly nursed
Of purple quills rinsing sweet tales
Universally versed with X-rayed
Youthful Zeal
Categories:
rinsing, boyfriend, environment, july,
Form:
ABC
Shifting from tanned morning when day sizzles
To a quick invasion of noon’s rainfall—glassy wet —
I walk on eggshells perplexed by the many moods of a climate
When flighty nature leaves me burnt and doused without notice!
While in this outrageous raid, my eyes track night-clouds
To follow a star peeping its way out in blinks,
Quieting my senses--rinsing wired tresses in moon streaks.
Seven For Chaos and Order
nette onclaud's Contest
Jan 30, 2017
Categories:
rinsing, silence, weather,
Form:
Verse