Best Spick Poems
I'd married at 21 and moved overseas with my husband's work, so it had been many years since I had visited my gran at Rose Cottage. I was taken by surprise when I received a letter from her solicitor informing me of my inheritance. Her cottage had been vacated when she went into a care home, and sadly she passed away a few years later. Gran had been widowed at an early age so I’d never met grandpa. I was her only grandchild and had such fond memories of spending summer holidays with her.
ripe red strawberries
boiling in the copper pan
I label jam jars
When I pulled into the driveway I was shocked to see how dilapidated the cottage was. Green shutters were hanging off their hinges and paint was peeling from the window frames. I recalled the perfectly manicured lawns and cottage garden flowers which were gran’s pride and joy, now a forest of dandelions sprouted from the lawn and brambles snaked their way through the honeysuckle arch way. I picked my way through the vegetation which was covering the moss covered path and turned the key in the lock; the heavy oak door creaked like my arthritic joints. Gran’s cosy cottage had always been spick and span, but now every surface was covered with a layer of thick grey dust and lacy cobwebs hung from the black beams on all the ceilings. As I wandered through the empty rooms my footsteps echoed on the old pine floorboards which were littered with strips of wallpaper falling from the damp walls. My heart sank when I saw how much work was needed to restore and modernise the old stone cottage, but with time and effort and help from my family I’m determined to bring it back to its former glory
neglected cottage
in need of renovation
rambling roses bloom
Fiction poem for Thesaurus - Abandon or Abandoned Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart
POEM AWARDED POEM OF THE DAY
06/14/20
Categories:
spick, growing up, house, memory,
Form:
Haibun
Salted kisses
The ferocious rolling waves
Were broken by the shoreline
Into gentle caressing streams
Wet, fine, white sand grains
Gently scouring and washing with each new step
Left our feet spick-and-span
Glassy specks of sea salt crystals
Trapped in your jet black hair
Reflected the distant lights
In the glory of the full moon’s light;
A hundred tiny stars twinkling in your hair
The sparkle in your eyes; yet, unsurpassed
A black halo formed around your face
By your long hair, blown by the cold sea breeze
The longer tendrils gently brushing against my face
Your sweet fragrance gently wafted into my face
In my goose pimpled skin, I tingled
As our lips merged in a warm salty embrace
Tongues, moist and probing
In search of each other's sensual treasures
My desired eternity, glimpsed in an instant
Such long walks on the beach
A lifetime in a pleasant beach house
Fill my dreams of you and I
March 4, 2017
Categories:
spick, beach, dream, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Romanticism
I was working for Jack Daymond, a farmer,
who farmed livestock, potatoes and vines.
I s’pose he had over two hundred cattle.
The spuds and the grapes grew in lines.
Oh gawd! Jack had me slaving ‘til sunset,
keeping his farm spick and span.
Jack kept his eyes on the produce,
while I was his cleaning up man.
And that meant me days were all busy,
spraying and killing off weeds,
grubbing out hundreds of tussocks,
before the darn thing set its seeds.
Sometimes old Jack was a good bloke,
he’d jump in with a fine helping hand,
and we’d spend our day in the paddock,
destroying the weeds on his land.
We were digging out plenty of thistles,
in the north paddock up near the creek,
and we worked like a couple of Trojans
clearing what should have taken a week.
Then a voice loudly filled up the air.
And it was quite menacing too.
A bloke in a suit was striding to us,
declaring his strong point of view.
“Mr. Daymond, I am here to warn you,
that I represent government’s need.
It appears that with government water,
that your quota you far did exceed.”
“I’m here to check your irrigation,
and make sure you’re not being unfair.”
Jack Daymond replied “Do what you must,
but don’t go in that paddock up there.”
The bloke in the suit became snaky,
standing over poor Jack with a leer,
“Don’t tell me where I can or can’t go,
See this card that I am holding here.”
“This card is a reminder to you,
I have authority over your land.
I am allowed to go wherever I wish,
have I made myself clear? Do you understand?'
Jack looked down at the card in his hand,
and knew there’s no sense to rebound,
so Jack nodded politely and joined me,
grubbing thistles from out of the ground.
It appeared that Jack had been beaten,
and in silence he’s taking it hard,
between thistles he gazed to the paddock,
at the bloke who had shown him the card.
But then a grin formed on his face,
we heard yelling like never before,
for the bloke in the suit he was sprinting,
and it’s something we cannot ignore.
Jack beat me on reaching the fence.
With the bloke in the suit in full flight,
and hot in pursuit was Jack’s Jersey bull,
with a look that was all sheer delight.
As the bloke in the suit got beside us,
with the bull behind him by a yard,
Old Jack cupped his hands and yelled out -
“Your card! Your card! Show him your card!”
Categories:
spick, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Standing hoeing garden stones
Eyes awash with tears
As memories flood back from
More than sixty years,
To the little village churchyard
For which my dad cared
And which duty I, as a child,
So very unwillingly shared.
He dug the graves, cut the grass
Scything carefully around
Each sheared and flower strewn
Humped burial mound.
All the paths were of loose stone
Which, after ever spring self seed,
Just attracted and harboured
Endless stretches of weed,
Each year it was my job
To shim and hoe them clean
So that those spick and span paths
Matched his carefully mown green.
I was a spoiled, lazy, idle child
Complaining every single year
But dad was quietly firm in spite
Of my every tantrum and tear.
Now he comes gently back to mind
As I hoe my stones, laid for easy care.
Just for a while it’s the old churchyard
And we are both back there.
Good job done he says
As we stand side by side
And we both inspect that path
And my chest swells with pride.
And now I stand here
Leaning on my garden hoe
Thinking of things I wish I’d said
All those many years ago.
But the past is the past
And we both know it’s for the best
That I wish his memory goodbye
And let him slip gently back to rest.
Categories:
spick, childhood, dad, growing up,
Form:
Rhyme
To take you in hand
or hold you here where you stand
the wind is your guide
as I salute you with pride
emblem spick and span
for I am a yorkshire man
together we hoe
tall in the fields hence I sow
in freedom we grow
arm in arm against the foe
for you are my flag
that soars over moor and crag
white rose I love you
on a background of sky blue.
© Harry J Horsman 2015
The Flag of the county of
Yorkshire England
Categories:
spick, pride,
Form:
Rhyme
Surely this will come as no shock,
But it makes me so happy
When I think of your cooking,
I just imagine it and I start to hum,
Thinking of how it fills me with comfort.
I smell your food and salivate,
Wishing you cooked at a faster rate,
I close my eyes as I must wait.
I give my lips a smack and a lick,
Fully impatient to eat your dish.
Sometimes to go fast I help out too,
Tossing the salad or grilling corn on the cob,
I'm always happy to give you a hand.
Job's always quicker with the help of a friend.
The smells grow stronger
And my hunger is woke.
The closer we get to the end,
The faster I stream around the kitchen,
Eager to help you finish.
My stomach grumbles and croaks,
So loud, it sounds like a drum!
I'm so excited to taste your cuisine.
Finally, dinner is served,
I lap it all up,
it's almost all gone in a couple big gulps.
But it's so delish, it's hard to stop!
I clean up well and eat every last morsel of food.
You smile as I lick my lips span and spick,
You liked watching me enjoying your dish,
You start to thank me, but I thank you instead,
I say I look forward to giving you help
By doing the dishes while you go to bed.
Then I too will sleep as sound as a rock,
And perhaps pleasantly dream,
Recalling the taste of your cookery.
Categories:
spick, feelings, food, funny, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
Ssss.....
Splendour smooth sound that sounded severally sometime ago,
Smoothly stealthy sensating my soul.
Sound sounding second by second significantly,
saying ''I love you Thabiso'' not even swallowing a single saliva spit.
Sweet semibreve singsong sounding siphoned from sun set side.
Sexy but not sex slavish,
Just sound sizzling like a snake hizzling.
When slamming slang its signs that theres something serious.
Smooth sound not simple to slay or slip someone slow or solvenly.
Slender with smashing smile and sound splitting my feelings into smithreens.
Soften sonare that sneaks me sodden,meaning saturated.
Souvenir sound deserving sovereign.
Sound sounding smooth like special strings playing in sovereign's ceremony,
spick and span spontaneously stabling spirit putting stamina,
not from stammer but someone stimulating,stupendous,streamlining.
Stereophonic sound that makes me sweat.
I'm not swagging its just that i still remember her sweet swansong swaying
systematic sound as if it sounds from someone from synagogue.
Since from this voice appeared in my dreams.
I stoped snoring and started to have sweet dreams in my sleep.
You will never know when its the end,
but after telling that''I'm in love with the voice''its the end.
This was just a deram
Categories:
spick, love, sweet, sound, love,
Form:
Limerick
Drunken are sailors
Three loose sheets in the
wind
The fourth in the wind
The vessel spick-and-
span new
Moves in a uncontrolled
way.
Categories:
spick, political
Form:
Tanka
The journey began from birth
Since presented out into this life,
The brow beating experience,
Gloom besetting this vagabond soul
Are harrowing like the trail in front,
The ancestors had proclaim the future
To be bright, baring all retributions
Encounters in life,
They have spat out hard wine
Cracked the obliging kola nuts
And chewed the Alligator pepper,
Honey gel and Adun had featured in my throat
I have been boiled in salted perfume
And showered with herbal spring,
My soap is dark mushroom from an ancient iroko
Soaked in the pot of palm oil
I am spick and span;
The red-hot emerald from ember of coal
Have burnt into my chord
And swallowed into my belly,
I, lifted up with shaking hands
And showed to the rising sun,
The two hands clasped together
Taken up at wrists with shaky hands
And showed to the setting sun,
My legs brought together
Gripped at the ankles with shaking hands
And turned upside down;
Showing me the underside, inner in of the universe
The world is not trust worthy
Don’t take more than you can chew
Don’t give more than you can chew
You will grow and yet old
Prosper in life yet progressive
Go in peace,
You will not miss it
You will not die
You will not smell
You will not wander
You will not miss the entrance to your abode
You will not suffer reproach
Go with joy,
I then gathered together including
Sack of experience of life on my back
Loaded with my egg on top,
They weigh a tone but, not a weigh down.
I have journey to the end of the ocean,
Climbed to the tallest peak
Tour to where the wind originated,
Seen and met genera diverse in
Mythology, taste, setting in milieu
I have gone to the end of pleasure
And back; still I am on trip.
Categories:
spick, mysteryjourney, life, universe,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
I used to long for the perfect childhood
the perfect husband, children and house.
I used to long to be wealthy, beautiful looking and perfectly healthy.
They say the grass is always greener.
If only they'd stayed together
If only I did better at school.
I used to long for the perfect marriage and family
But Im not perfect, lifes not perfect
I used to think the house should be spick and span each and everyday
a cake baking in the oven, fresh flowers on the sill.
I used to long for the perfect friends and keeping up with the Jones.
I am not perfect, sometimes I may miss my prayers
sometimes I'll snap at the kides
somedays I just can't be bothered to clean up
The grass is always greener but hay Im not perfect and either is life.
Categories:
spick, life,
Form:
Light Verse
The sun was shining brightly
Shall we go to the lake said Mam
I was washed and dressed
Placed in my buggy , all spick and span
Mam dressed my sister
Then herself she had cleansed
Ready for the off now
She looked at me and screamed
Just look at the state of you
You cant go out like that
I had only sat in my buggy
What on earth was the fuss about
My lovely white brocade dress
Was filthy, how was that
I was just sitting in my buggy
Was the pesky dogs fault
Been out in the garden
Digging holes just for the fun
Came in and saw me sitting there
Onto my buggy he had come
My dressed was pulled off me
Face and hands washed once more
Looking clean and happy again
Off to the lakes pebbly shore
This keeps getting retold whenever grubby children are mentioned.
"She could get dirty just sitting in a buggy"
I was aged about 18 months - 2 years
Penned 23 August 2013
Categories:
spick, child, dog,
Form:
Rhyme
It takes two to tango
So here we go
She cooks
I clean
Utensils now have
A never before sheen
Sweeping, mopping
And all such things
Under my control
I put my heart and soul
Into these
After all
Lady of the house
Has to be pleased
The house is always
Spick and span
Initially I was unsure
She encouraged me
Saying, ‘You can’
Our love has since
Grown by leaps and bounds
More so, in lockdown’s
Second round
Physical distancing be damned
We are always cheek by jowl
Love on the prowl
No, no
Our kitchen has little space
That is the case
The 24/7 company
Has made us so tolerant
Of one another
You see
The distribution of
Household work
Has perked
Our relationship no end
Some bickerings do blend
In the chatter
That’s another matter
Finally, an honest confession
No third soul around
It is she and me
And no other sound
Can never take eyes off each other
Yes, you guessed it right.....
Truly, ‘Maid for Each Other’
Categories:
spick, humor, humorous, marriage, satire,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh! for the wet warm South Westerly
after the cold white North Easterly leaving
sparkling rain on each window pane South Westerly.
At night this rain paints all inanimate things a vivid
hue, while humans look care worn, some even sickly,
no longer New Year spick and span but of a drearier hue.
New snow in the Wolds as yeast in England's east, another
feast for children and adults unable to bring home the bacon.
Drains turn into ice topped streams that underneath show
water swimming like eels in a race to breed. Across the North Sea
diagonally from The Wash, heavy snow is falling in the Norge
fjords like so many Vikings on a raid for plunder, trade or conquest.
Categories:
spick, winter, rain, snow, rain,
Form:
Free verse
The Boss Comes to Dinner
By Elton Camp
It was for the very first time in my life
We asked to dinner the boss and his wife
Company’s sales and profits were down
And talk of layoffs had been going around
So we thought it’d be a good idea to hurry
And favor with the boss try hard to curry
The two showed up a little before eight
We made sure that dinner wouldn’t be late
The house was shining, so spick and span
To impress him, we had done all we can
Our little son Joey came out into sight
To meet the boss and to say “Goodnight”
“Sir, my Dad talks about you a whole lot.
He tells about how you are such a big shot.
If there’s time, to see you do it, I do wish.
My Father says that you drink like a fish.”
Categories:
spick, funny
Form:
Rhyme
Every now and then she glows like the sun
With a winsome sight and the spheric wish,
Like the Romeo’s wish, with her love they run,
The lovely features I have vowed to cherish.
Like beauty like sun through the pretty charm
The cologne I desire from her sunny shine;
The feelings I put to wax in my heart,
With the colour of her beauty so bright.
Spick and span the beauty like the waterfall
The skin a smooth-like edge, though far;
Even her object affront, the apple-John,
Her cherry red lips a touch for a wag.
It is thee I love not to path thy days,
Give back your love and never go away.
Categories:
spick, girlfriend-boyfriend, beauty, beauty, love,
Form:
Sonnet