Best Rubber Poems
hen party
walk of shame
your worth in eggs
***
Today there are no rubber ducks, no flawless hues,
To hide behind, as we once did.
This day is dark, and gray and dreary,
Air thick with the scent of decay and mold,
Dull light filters in through the window,
Casting a somber tone across everything.
Even the freesia suds have gone bad,
The water in the tub is murky, opaque and grim,
Waves unseparated as the day that holds them.
When we were good kids, peering out,
From behind our good mother,
We got good glimpses, sucked on butterscotch chips,
The new neighbor, the smell of fresh sunflowers; it was fun.
But the old neighbor, who finally stopped coming around,
He was not good,
Over steeped dandelion tea, a benign-sounding thing,
Bitter and dry, sometimes salty; it was not fun.
As gray as this day, as this water, when I knew him,
He knew me, too.
I sink deeper into the swirling, whirling, and I think of things,
Dirty-water cyclone, the brightness of our childhood,
Harder to recall, I still remember the rubber ducks though.
Splashing them about, their cheerful colors and silly grins,
We knew joy,
But that bright spot is fading, and soon it too will disappear,
Down the drain, with this gray water and my leftover filth.
Mixing it all together,
In the stillness of the moment, I am struck,
The heavy inevitability of happiness; the transience of loss.
As bad as this day, that man, with his dreary gray hues,
I hang my head back and give a loud, guttural laugh at it now,
The memory of those yellow, plastic birds.
Especially since today there are no rubber ducks, no flawless hues,
To hide behind, as we once did.
Two slugs raced around the flower leaving skid marks.
across the endless
desert pavement
six feet dance a
rapid two step
keeping the mirage
alive in mind
that there is
another side
darting and dodging
clouds that darken
and fall to earth
while passing
cracks of quakes
made evading
rush hour
rushing
not mistaking making
a b-line for grassy
trees reaching
the edenic
opposite of the other
now to stop and
gasp grasping
knowing now
an ant
recants the
heroic crossing
of a sidewalk in summer
Rubber duckie you're the one
You're the reason I'm the one
Rubber duckie
You're the one for me
Saturday Morning’s routines
The odor of wood smoke
Came into my bedroom
I saw the flambeau flickering lights
From my window
That when I knew it was time
To get out of bed;
I heard old man Sealy voice
He said to his wing man
To put another log on the fire
Keeps the fire blasting?
He said
I put on my rubber rain boots
I Headed down to the barn
Knowingly, it was so close to dawn
Pappy said hey “small point”
Where are you going?
Go back to your bed.
I just wanted to watch
The pigs being slaughter
^
Every Saturday morning
Old man Sealy slaughter the animals
On my granddad farm
It meant meat for the villagers
Pork, beef, chicken and lambs
Fresh Meat for all:
Pappy always said
Do not handicap the children
By making their lives easy
So I hurried on down to the pig pens to watch.
The pigs struggle and squeal violently
The lambs’ trembles
As they struggle to be free
^
As a little child,
I thought that animal was raised
To be killed for food;
Now looking back on those days
I think it was incredible and sad
However, I had some wonderful time
Grilling meat on a stick
With the Butcher’s team
My Childhood memories
Of the slaughter house
what is your stories...Attachments
They awoke to a classical radio station
that sounded so crisp,
its studio could have been in
an apartment down the hall.
They lied and listened
in the shadowy bed
while Beethoven and Brahms
circled above them.
Her black umbrella
and matching raincoat,
that were as dark as her hair and eyes,
were on a chair,
next to her pink rubber boots
that looked electric in the morning gloom.
She delayed the inevitable
for as long as she could
and finally reached
for her glasses to look at the clock.
His fingers grazed her back
as she slid out of the sheets.
She flicked on the bathroom light
and he caught a glimpse of her naked back
as she shut the door.
The rain’s gentle tapping against the window
reminded him of the delicate sound
of someone secretly typing a letter
and when he heard the squeak of the faucet,
he knew today was the last he’d see of her.
He looked at the ceiling
and then at her pink rubber boots,
before he closed his eyes again
and listened to the concerto on the radio
mix with the sounds of
her shower
and the rain.
“Ode to Rubber Boots”
By Rachel Heffington
In rubber boots you’re free to wade
Through puddle and through creek;
In rubbers you’re invincible!
(Excepting when they leak!)
Sitting staring out the window for my sister to return
An overwhelming sadness, my stomach in a churn.
She a half day at school and I have not yet started
I thought the fates were cruel that we were even parted
The sun glinting off the puddles, maybe we'll play outside
Or maybe play barbies or color if she wanted to stay inside.
From school she returns and asks mom can she go outside to play
I ask can I go and she replies "no, they're my friends and you're a baby anyway"
Two 5 year old girls waiting on the porch, am I losing my best friend?
I hide my disappointment for if I cry I will hear about it to no end
Mom tells her to wear rubber boots and change out of her school dress
It was in that moment I hatched a plan that was spiteful, I confess.
She stripped down to her underwear and began to gather up her stuff
When she couldn't find one of the boots she got herself in a huff
My sister has a temper and a full blown tantrum fully erupted
She began to yell, and started throwing things, until my dad interrupted
"This will cool you down", as he put her out on the porch and locked the door
Standing outside in underwear, tears streaming, now with something to cry for.
Her friends look upon her, their faces register shock
If there was only a way that I could turn back the clock.
I stare again out the window, but this time at my beloved sister
My heart in so much pain that I'm sure it will certainly blister
I felt so bad, so dreadful, my stomach tied in one huge guilty knot
I slowly walk to the hamper to retrieve the boot from it's hiding spot.
*True story, vivid memory for a 3 yr old I know, but this affected me deeply.
I told her I hid the boot when we were teenagers, we had a great laugh.
For contest: "A Childhood Memory''
Rubber ducky
~~~~~~~~~~
I've got a duck, a rubber duck
It lives on the tub, I like it
I had one when I was six
Once when I asked my stepmother where it was
Her reply was "I'll show you a rubber duck
you little freak!"
That day I learned and earned the price of my
Childhood
That time it was cheap only two teeth a bloody nose
and a fractured jaw
My every move in life exacted a different pain
and suffering
I learned how to hate, and then I learned how to love
that’s why last year I bought the duck that lives
on the tub
It's just a small reminder.
Back seat of a '56 Chevy
White with baby blue trim
Cruising out of El Paso town
Headed to the City of Angels
She’s fast asleep on my lap
Glorious western sunrise
Static, crackling AM station
Day Tripper on the radio
I got told a joke this morning
It really made me smile
So I thought I would share it on poetry soup
But in my own unique poetry style
A lady went to the dentist
She sat in the dentist’s chair
She was feeling really nervous
She wished she wasn’t there
The dentist thought he would put her at ease
As he put on his rubber gloves
He told her a little fictional story
Of a Canadian rubber glove factory
Into vats of latex the employees dip their hands
Big hands, medium hands and small, all the workers think its grand
They peel them off when they are dry
And into labelled boxes the rubber gloves lie
The dentist works on her teeth for a while
The lady doesn’t move or crack a smile
Finally the dentistry work is complete
The old lady arises from her seat
She gets on her coat and pays her bill
There is something on her mind still…..
Do they use male staff to produce condoms in a similar way?
The dentist laughed and said have a nice day
Jan Allison
25th April 2014
< Mr Thomas Adams
Weaver of the gum Wham !
Thought his Chicle
Would fit better on my motor ~ cicle
Entry For
John Freeman's
Giggle Poetry
G.L. All
Tommy laid propped up and barely able to move, alone in his hospital bed;
"He will be lucky to ever walk again", is what he heard the doctor had said.
The truck driver never saw him due to the setting sun glare;
He doesn’t remember that motorcycle ride - just one day he woke up in there.
Then a small ball flew over the curtain accompanied by a giggling laugh;
Landing close enough to his good arm so he tossed it back over the same path.
Once again the colorful ball came, landing just a little bit farther away;
He struggled and pushed just to reach it and send the ball back in happy play.
Over and over that ball came from the giggling boy;
Each time he moved a little bit more to return the colorful toy.
Then finally he had to get out of bed to retrieve the rubber ball,
And when he moved the curtain to return it, there was nobody there at all.
His mother was surprised on her visit to see him walking about;
When he told her about the bouncing ball a surprised gasp, she let out.
“You remember your little twin brother, who died when you were only five?
We buried a colorful ball with him that you both played with when he was alive!”
Doodle me your funny strokes of frog looking just like hidden Mickey
Or your princess that wears a tiara made of a plane triangle
Go ahead!
Indulge yourself!
Fill my sheet with your vertical lines
Top them up with diagonals and curves
Sketch your favorite part of her body if you wish
You can even ask Mr. Crayon to join in
Don’t stop scribbling.
Keep leaving a mark ‘cause I find your lead sexy.
Just don’t rub me with your rubber.
Glenn Sentes
For Nette Onclaud's SEXY Contest
02-02-12