Best Tubs Poems
''Like Ice Cream''
Having ice cream with you,
Brightens the entire portrait in my youth.
Like catnip for a cat
-- the Reese's fun never stops!
Like monkeys in a zoo, above a tasty sherbet treetop.
Ice Cream with you!
How sweet, the imagery of 31 different treats
Cold butter and salty Placid water, with the works
Amaretto peaches, and slushy sauce --- twerk
Dandelion haven- above a marshmallow rocky road
Fireflies flicker around the fresh Lemon Drop Sky
A delightful sundae breeze on the crest of my tongue
Soft frozen chocolate dessert, nothing can go amiss
Ice Cream with You!
So many to choose from,
Savor the delicious flavor
---of Butterscotch homemade rum
There's no other place I'd rather be
Lost Inside this forever hazel mint joy scenery
The ultimate indulgence in one icy bite
A cream coconut cherry delight
-served on the side with apple pie
In a cup, on a cone, my vanilla waffle boy
Everything-- about-- you-- roams free
like tubs of ice cream dreams
Listen to the sound of soft sprinkles cinnamon
The happy feeling that melts when you're around
I'm packing a giant scoop of Ice Cream from your heart
Adoring and Embracing Life
Every time you say the words
...I love you...
:)
Categories:
tubs, boyfriend, fun, happiness, i
Form:
Free verse
From your hands that dipped me in cool tubs
and soft morn wakes, you were the gentle lion
taming my bohemian strains; the lamb of summer
rain catching me like a feather on your palm...
always, your balm poured moon glow of bliss,
erring only when my restless flowers needed
to bend: from where pictures stood, time bowed
shaping night talks, life’s edges, and paused faces.
Then the gas light dripped on lacquered frames,
silhouettes fading as I collected our thoughts—
marbles in my pocket—to keep me safe
from cold winds, rough dreams. And tonight,
my breath grows wild, noting the fabric of revelries
as I click past lenses : you smile; you laugh.
Just when evening’s done, you reach your arms
in slow motion to hold me close again...hands
that dipped me then, gone, without saying goodbye
from a wave of coma when I was only 24. Yet among
old photographs, we embrace through love's eyes...
Daddy, you're my special treat every day!
Tell Us About Your Dad Contest
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Categories:
tubs, fathers day, inspiration, me,
Form:
Free verse
A flower beginning with A is easy you see, an Aster I would sow
Bluebells of every colour and size in most gardens grow
Colourful Cornflower and Coneflower fills the scene,
Dianthus and Daisy look bright and so clean.
English lavender whose perfume fills the air,
Foxglove of many hues love to see them there.
Gladioli grow tall, look great cos of their beauty,
Hostas loved by the slugs til pellets do their duty.
Iris, so elegant, in wet areas love to shine,
Jasmine, whose heady perfume is divine.
Kalanchoe is a pretty plant likes to live indoors,
Lilac means Spring is here, buy lilac soap in the store.
Marigolds and Mistflower have their place in most gardens we see,
Nasturtium, a pretty old flower, yet smells like cats wee.
Orchids so majestic shout, look at me, I'm the prettiest of all,
Poppies of all colours, lovely to see them wafting so tall.
Quitensis is a plant that loves dusty conditions,
Roses, love to bloom wherever it's positioned.
Spring-flowers so beautiful heralding winter is over,
Tubs of tulips so elegant amongst the clovers.
Umbrella plant have leaves that look like a brolly,
Violets used to be made into posies and sold on a tray.
Wall flowers look good but the perfume's not the best,
Xeromena is a poor mans lily, to grow it, is a test.
Yarrow you will find in the spring,
Zinnia the last one, hope my list a smile will bring.
Penned. 3 July 2015
Categories:
tubs, beautiful, flower, garden,
Form:
Abecedarian
My little boy on rainy days
The tin pots are out to stay
On those days very dry
Some hold vegetables; some meat fry
Bang on the unused pots, baby
Today's your day for fun ~maybe
My little boy; make some noise
Little one; use them for your toys
Oh! It is raining~ again
Listen to, all that den
Little one, get the spoon
Hit the side, to rain's tune
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Contest: Nursery Rhyme 2
Date written: 03/15/2021
I was remembering my mother used to tell me a rhyme that she said her boyfriend wrote to her for Valentine's day. My mother was born in 1901 and was a teenager around 1914 so a very long time ago.
Her friend wrote her this poem:
I love you a little
I love you a lot
I love you enough to fill ten pots
Eight wash tubs and 3 dishpans
So my thoughts for writing this comes from this little poem my mother told me when I was a teenager.
Categories:
tubs, children, mother,
Form:
Rhyme
creepy eyes sparkle
from scary pumpkin faces
halloween is here!
******
At Halloween it’s my birthday
Lots of ghouls come round to play
(They are really children from my street)
Their creepy costumes look really neat
I helped mummy mix and make
A scary spider birthday cake
Our table groans with lots of party food
and creepy decorations set a scary mood
We have so many tasty treats to eat
huge sandwiches cut like monster’s feet,
tubs of popcorn ‘brains’ and boiled egg eyes
and green slime pie and vampire thighs
We made massive jugs of red lemonade
Using colouring for that blood red shade
When the party’s over we will head to the street
And knock on doors to trick and treat
******
Fabulous fun and fancy food with friends and family
Pretty parcels and presents precariously piled
Cornucopia of cookies, candy, chocolate and cards
Trick and treating takes time
Bulging bags bursting with bright bonbons
Cornucopia contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
11-06-17
Categories:
tubs, birthday, celebration, food, halloween,
Form:
She was an estranged angel
On the backbone of a boar
She never put her hair up
Was a missile without a war
She broke a wild stallion
With the motion of her hips
She stifled a chameleon
With the color of her lips
She drowned a hundred hearts
With the ocean in her eyes
She never stayed for dinner
Had a trick bag full of lies
She's the chairman of your love
It's the least you stand to lose
Reinvested into futures
The kind you'd never care to chose
She shone just like a savior
To a crowd of men like me
In the dark and dreary alley
She convinced us we'd be free
She locked our souls together
With chain of solid gold
To wander through the streets
Starving, in love, and cold
On rainy nights she'd tell me
Of the millions she would make
We pounded solid granite
Until it'd crack, until it'd break
She delivered forty hammers
On a bull, without a sound
She had hundreds of 'em stowed
Somewhere buried in the ground
We bore our chains and sang it loud
We wrote a thousand songs
God save your children's virgin eyes
From seeing such a throng
She promised me the world inside
A thimble she'd unhide
Upon completion of a house
Built on the black hillside
She promised me so many things
I believe I did lose track
But if I could somehow free these boys
they'd sure be headed back
To living simple there in town
No vixen to demand
Just a table for to drink at
And to play a couple hands
But the hand that feeds the bread
Now riddled so with grubs
Would never be allowing that
A world with beds and tubs
Her power is a mighty thing
That crushes bone and brow
It brings one to believe it right
To stumble, kneel, and bow
We're just too worn and sore
To ever execute our coup
Best rest until the morning comes
There's plenty of work to do
Categories:
tubs, abuse, addiction, angel, betrayal,
Form:
Rhyme
Iconoclastic lots of marshiest beauty
Clenched sublime altruistic nature bore –
Morals indefatigably humbled, reasoning in bondage –
Bondage of the highest periphery
Blessings encountered in watered chaos.
Blocked nuts with scanty feelers,
Inducing mere bouts of euphoric impasses
Rarely a gift of fatherly nature.
Hay filled tubs called but heads
Preferably a misfortune
To their worthless masses.
Maevius a reader’s delight be
In the fumbling fold
Of this rowdy rendezvous.
More ore less classy oddities
On deferred pedestals
As lovely Mannequins
To display for sale.
Now Hyperion his burning sword behold
None to hear Triton’s call to arms.
Categories:
tubs, allegory,
Form:
Classicism
Courageous men and women wear scrubs,
masks, white gloves, and black net caps.
They, too, eat their meals from plastic tubs,
what's left over from supper scraps?
At night, their bones begin to break down.
In the outpatient and hospitalized wards.
On the other side of the earth, in clinics around.
across the middle of the COVID swords.
Do not remove pricey clothes or freeze.
Their newly cleaned blues made for a breeze.
They have what they need to get the job done.
If you firmly grab your hand with a striped tone,
Unfortunately, it was the start of a new day.
while fresh, sickening showers beat cruelly away.
Categories:
tubs, analogy, appreciation, caregiving, health,
Form:
Sonnet
I wring my hands in the winter cold
for they are worn and getting old
were these the hands that held my babes
so busy and useful in younger days
strong and fine, now worn with age.
I can see my young hands from the past
hands lifting little ones, strong and fast
hands making healthy meals to last
hands filling tubs to splash and play
hands making meals, folding hands to pray.
Sure as the seasons come and go
these hands have weathered the years to show
how capable they were, and even now
with children grown, I think of how
my hands were blessed to serve somehow.
8/30/2020
Categories:
tubs, blessing, time,
Form:
Rhyme
A mackerel sky fillets the village
then hides it in a breezeless blear.
Heads poke out of net drapes
sniff and fish behind trawling curtains.
Shopkeepers brace for
wet dog splatter and spray
for slopping boots and salty puddles.
On the sightless sea
far beyond the shore and shingle,
lost fog horns are lowing deep
like colicky cattle.
Later, misty reeks will be scoured
from groggy docks.
Hauling hands will rope together
tide-tossed tubs,
then tired feet trudge to taprooms
where the brackish parts
of codgers and young alike
can be oiled and quenched.
Categories:
tubs, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Written: October 21, 2023 For Brian Strand Contest
_____________________________
So true
feel blue
So scary
To marry
A fool
to school
Fall shrubs
In tubs
Falsehood
Had stood
Selfish
sell fish
Ethics
Skeptics
Psycho
My foe
Spell cast
fell fast
Categories:
tubs, analogy, wisdom,
Form:
Footle
i tried to notice without noticing.
i tried to fit in by not standing out,
but i knew i was different.
their walls much bigger.
their yards much nicer.
in elementary it seemed everyone
was in the same class: lower class,
but this was junior high across town,
on white burb avenue
and i was poor.
they weren't.
of course i resisted.
i mixed and matched the clothes i had
as if i was a designer preparing
for the new season.
they let me into their world
for a little while.
i hung out in huge basements,
chilled in hot tubs with bikini clad young hotties,
taking part in all the gossip.
until my illusion wavered
and they slowly pulled back--
as my clothes got holes in them,
as my shoes wore down,
as i grew out of all i had gotten
that one time my mom took me school shopping.
goodbye, Stephanie Bach.
goodbye, Anne Murry.
goodbye, Lori Larson.
years later i would remember them
at the most inopportune moments--
drunk in a dive bar in Harlem
talking to an ugly girl i was thinking about doing,
in the dirty bathroom of a crack house before i
put the pipe to my lips,
in line at the welfare office.
i think i was bitter for a while,
thinking about how they all probably owned homes
not far from each other and how they would
throw little upscale cocktail parties
around the holidays and kiss each other
on both cheeks when they greeted
but at the same time trying to stay hip by listening
to commercial rap and sexy pop music in their suv's.
yeah, bitter
drunk, and very early in the morning,
i came across a tiny neighborhood jazz bar
where a trio group had their hands
on the heads of everyone and was shaking them
to the electric sounds of their primitive instruments.
a boxing gym had less bobbing and weaving
than that jazz bar on the corner of 106th and broadway.
cats were healing up in the place that night.
my head was going ten rounds while my eyes were closed
when those girls popped up only for a second,
but they didn't fit the scene,
so for the first time, i felt sorry for them
before i forgot about 'em.
later, outside, the sign that said 106th st.
had another one below it that read
duke ellington boulevard
i stared at it, making room for a new memory.
goodbye, Stephanie Bach.
goodbye, Anne Murry.
goodbye, Lori Larson.
Categories:
tubs, forgiveness, hope, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
Me father was a collier, worked Harton off the coast
Though he rattled from the coal dust he was whiter than a ghost
But the one thing that reviled him in his God-forsaken post
Was the torment of the pit ponies who he'd love and trust the most.
Shetlands worked the low seams, Gallers the big pit
And they toiled in dust and danger in the darkness and the grit
Blinkered up between the limbers, heaving coal, tubs full of it
Were the brave young beasts of burden, all a-frothing at the bit.
And Blackie was a strong 'un, he'd been down since '34
But he earned the lads good bonus so they worked him more and more
Till the weight buckled his legs and he stumbled to the floor
And he just laid there a-panting, all a-choking in his craw.
Ah me Da would bring them sugar and share with them his bait,
Now his mind was torn with fury and his heart was filled with hate
So raging black with anger he made the butchers wait
And he vowed he'd take the pony back up with him in the crate
Then Da's no longer digging, they locked him up you see,
For misappropriating mineowners property,
But you cannot cage a conscience, he'd set the brave one free,
From the bittered, blackened hellhole that had been his slavery..
Now Blackie's in the meadow with horses by his side
When the miners bring their children down he takes them for a ride
And he passes by the pithead and the place he nearly died
And he brays a silent prayer for the others still inside
For the broken, bloodied ponies and the tears yet to be cried
There's torment in them ponies down the mine, Hear me well, lad
There's torment in them ponies down the mine, Hear me well, lad
There's torment in them ponies down the mine.
HEAR ME SING THIS IN CONCERT ON YOUTUBE: 'Louis Spence.Ballard of Blackie'
THANK YOU.
Categories:
tubs, me, prayer, uplifting,
Form:
Epic
Dear Alan Titmarsh, how are you.
I do hope you and everyone else, enjoyed themselves at the do.
If you are ever in Ruddington,could you please give me a hand.
I’m trying so hard to create a garden, with a matchbox sized piece of land.
I don’t seem to have green fingers at all.
All the heads of the flowers, just jump off, when I’m playing football.
Everything I touch, and try to grow, seems to shrivel up and die.
It doesn’t seem to matter, just how hard I try.
Today I have just planted the Christmas tree in a tub,
I hope it doesn’t get some awful bug .
I want it to grow, but everyone keeps telling me it will die.
If it does I will cry.
Next Christmas I want this tree outside with fairy lights on it.
But if it dies my husband will bin it.
Yesterday I planted 100 bulbs all in tubs
,
But they will probably go to Australia or get eaten by grubs.
Last week I watch the secret garden on TV,
That is how I really want mine to be.
So please can you come and give me a hand,
And create me a beautiful garden, with this matchbox size piece of land.
Categories:
tubs, funnychristmas, me, tree, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme
Toasty mornings with teakettles whistling bring to mind Danish days on Marata’s
horse farm, ponies prancing in the unusually warm sunlight, and new fangled
sparkling silver water fountains. Mirada, Karen and Laura’s Mom hosted Bob, Jamie
and I for a summer vacation. We had just settled into the whitewashed kitchen
when the problem was presented to us. For years the housed herd of guest horses
had been watered by filling lovely old white porcelain cast iron tubs which had been
scattered all over the rolling green fields of the farm in Faum.
Mirada had the forward thinking idea of saving farm hand time [and her the hourly
wage] of piping water to these beautiful horses with new fountains! Yes, my
lovelies, all you have to do is push your nose right here. Out bubbles crisp cool clean
water, minus the dead flies, which often drowned in the old tub! Seems horses are
very suspicious. Nope the herd was having none of it. Soon, if not cajoled, they
would be passing out from lack of water in the Danish summer’s heat. What foreign
creature had replaced their friendly old white tub of water? Where was their water?
They saw no water. Sure there was a scent of it from that pole but “What the
heck?” snorted the black stallion shaking his head at the girls.
We were told there would be no breakfast, lunch or dinner for us until we helped
get those horses watered. So off we went, shuffling our feet to a meet and greet
with the herd. Marata and the girls knew the horses. We almost knew a horse from
a cow. I went right up to this large black beauty, pet his nose and rubbed my cheek
on his face, love at first sight! Blackie started following me and we walked toward
the fountain. Then the sun glanced off the dreaded thing and he shied. I pushed the
control, filled my hands with water and brought him some. Lordy, lordy he drank
from my hands! The herd behind him whinnied. I tried to get him nearer the fountain
but it was a no, go. He’d drink from my hands but not the fountain. It just goes to
show you, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink, is really
TRUE!
*The next morning Laura begged her own pony AGAIN to drink. He finally did the rest did too then ;)
Categories:
tubs, familyold, water, farm, horse,
Form:
Narrative