Best Vacuums Poems
Have you considered the one at your side?
He who holds your hand in a dark theater
shares his popcorn
pushes the cart in the grocery store
changes the oil
snores when exhausted
plans for retirement
does the dishes when you cook
loves it when you invite him to shower
with you
hugs you when you don’t understand
why you’re crying
He doesn’t know either, but knows
from experience, that it works
and that he needs to just shut up and rub
your head
The one who warms your side of
the bed
when you arrive at a running leap
sans panties
The one who vacuums, not to your standards,
but in an effort to help out
so he can spend some time with you
Consider life without.
Is that what you want?
Because there are others who would
treasure him.
The possibilities are endless
With every new scientific discovery.
There is inspiration to invent devices
That improve quality of life
And save lives in the process.
Spin with the wave and slow it down
With drones and electromagnetism.
Entropy and vacuums.
Spin with the wave, then slow it down
With science and ingenuity.
Catch the wind and spin, hook in
The eye of the storm is calm
Harness the power of the gods
Right there in our palms
Think of the all the lives you'll save
All the kids that won't meet Oz
If only we could stop
Take time to ponder the devastating
Disastrous whirlwinds of the gods
Drop a probe down the eye
Let it spin, let it fly
Revolutionize the times
With the greatest challenge of all
Saving lives, having fun with everything resolved.
My Favorite Things comes to mind...
a random assortment, a jumble of words
a quotient of portions, quotidian served
quixotic strivings of the great deca-dense
obscured in meaning, eschewing all sense
visions and nightmares and hallucinations
erudite arguments, odd fascinations
old geezers fondling memories of things
most folk would not to mixed company bring
inchoate ramblings of damaged young minds
bubbled through water and cardboard box wine
audible groans from the web server host
these are the ones make me giggle the most
shouting in vacuums, a riotous void
pontificating, or mildly annoyed
grieving, believing, or weaving a string
virtuous outburst that don’t do a thing
rants about orange man and all his mean tweets
and, yes, “Let’s go, Brandon” to make things complete
guns, poo, abortion, yes, all are discussed
sometimes the thin-skinned bail out in disgust
side by side, posting, the sage and the fool
the wise in their youth and those starting to drool
bleeping our excrement down on the page
somehow it all seems to soften the rage
when the bard shouts
when the muse screams
‘bout covid or Vlad
we’re at a computer
with just poo to fling
and that makes me laugh a tad
I knew a cat once named Peaches. He was an all-black cat, but not one of those that could be described like a “shadow”, never be named Bagheera, never moved like a “black bolt” or even be described as “mysterious”. You’d never mistake him for a bad omen. He wouldn’t make a very good Halloween mascot either, the boy ran with wide-eye from vacuum cleaners and drooled in his sleep for God’s sake. Peaches had one eye. I never asked him how he lost it, or if he traded it for some extra lives or something. Frankly, I don’t even know if he remembered having two. He, with astounding two-eyed confidence, would size up the antique, conversation stained dining room table and leap up there, skewed depth perception and all, to fall six inches short of his goal. Never seemed to bother him though, two seconds later (eight seconds in cat years) he’d wiggle his butt and give it another go. Never letting one eye or wood tables or any of life’s other traditional inconveniences stop him. He could have written really great self-help books. Now that I’m thinking about it, Peaches taught me a lot about life. Most importantly, that the two o’clock sun was the best place to close your eye and doze off for an hour (four hours in cat years), drool a bit, and dream of a world without vacuums.
The shifting of many corporeal hands move across this dead cell,
A vacuums vortex, a psychic sponge, charging this battery of
Energy called the spirit board.
Paranormal phenomenon striking plate to enter realities plane
Of existence, for the ethereal challenged in crisis, seeking the
Threshold for spontaneous release, unto our spiritual realm.
Witchery’s board of trickery left in a polarized stance it
So entices the living with its tempting whispering of lies,
Incantations gate keepers wait on the other side of evils
Door way.
Memorizing the human sensory functions into a false
Sense of harmless mystery of the unexplained, it lures
These victims ever closer to weaving its spell of the demonic.
These capture being lost unto the hypnotic effects are
Transfixed unable to hit their override switch that controls
Their mental powers of persuasion, disabled is there strength
Of will power, they belong to the Ouija now.
Clasping do all for sides of the curtain of reality, times
Displacement begins in earnest, without hesitations
Momentary loll this dead cell bursts to life.
Black magic key has been inserted within the wooden
Door way’s heart and soul, a bizarre power bank draws
Forth the energy of the spiritual lost, swinging hells
Kept wide open.
The pancetta spins out of control, smashing against
The barriers of humanity, darkened ebony light shines
Through this doorway of evil and the flickering candle
Turns to a shades greenish blue wavering in the odious
Breeze.
The voice of a thousand screams echo in sheer delight,
We have been freed at last, broken is the trance, the boards
Hypnotic effects are dashed by the light of the dawn.
Dazed in bewilderment the voyeurs are chilled to their
Very inward bones, shaking, staring in awes amazement,
Wondering if these events really happened at all.
Then within these tented walls a voice responds to their
Questioning, laughing, as if a jackal at a fresh kill site!
Foolish mortals you know not what you have done, this
Night, but I promise thee this, laughing once again,
In a demonic under tone, none shall leave this domicile
Alive.
The entry doors lock without the human touch, the
Curtain windows pull closed, a momentary stilled
Scream, then all is silent, what remains is left up
To my readers to visualize, as the final candle
Blows out!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
In vacuums
You don't assume
a sonic boom
You stay quiet.
My cranium
echoes a hum
that leaves me numb
to your edit.
4~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
Sponsor: nette onclaud
Contest Name: DESIDERATA (Number 1)
1…” Remember what peace there may be in silence.”
Old Mama Gass
she lives in a zoo
she has three furry children
who fill her heart through.
There's one Auggie, one Kelly
and one Kandi Kane
who is often referred to
as her Kandi Pain.
There is always a pile
of fur on the floor
she vacuums it up
but she quickly gets more.
She once had an Ashley
but she went away
it has been five years
since that very sad day.
This past December
she was joined by Boo
her sweet little kitty
in heaven now too.
They both joined another
a black cat named Dink
who she use to find curled up
asleep in the sink.
Then there was Ratley
so cuddly and fat
she loved him quite dearly
yes, he was a rat.
She had so many others
through life as she grew
There was Patches and Daisy
and their puppies , too.
She loves them all dearly
in heaven and here
they have filled up her heart
with love and good cheer.
She knows there is nothing
like the love of a pet
you will love them forever
and never forget.
Inspired by Danielle Whites Animal Companions contest
Lego Cities
Square blocked infrastructures formed from a meddling mind
engineered and fused together with sticky grape popsicle fingers
the Lego Babylon rises with its hanging gardens
strewn along the carpet floor.
A Mesopotamian oasis of multi-colored plastic struts
carelessly scattered for archeologists to decipher.
All those strange cuneiform residues of fingerprints
left by the sugar filled deity who set them in place.
Catalyst of that industrial architect
whose cubicle fortress of a daydreaming metropolis
sits in the corner of the living room
awaiting its devastation from future gods
armed with vacuums and nap times.
nathan martin 2009
How am I now with only memory of you to survive.... for was through your love alone did I come to breathe, drawing first taste of life while in your arms and at your lips.
The glory of Sun’s morning rays oft did find us locked in love’s embrace, joyful in our celebration as new worlds and possibilities opened before us, the very gateway to Eden swung wide in beckon call, had we dare but enter.
Alas all is now but memory.... a vapor of possibility lost to the vacuums of time as candle's flame to call of evening breeze......that light having once spilled across the union of our souls, lighting the pathway of our moment together ...now heard silent in the darkness .... The joys of our journey together no longer known, I tread on in company of loneliness and sorrow.
Yet........ remaining, there is Moon in evening sky, gentle and still, calling to my searching heart through flowing whisper of hope:
“ Rejoice in this but flicker of loss for was born in company of such Great Gain”
.....Thus changed I shall rise at call of Morning Sun and dance anew within the glory of my new season
.
For my spirit having once been born shall no longer find peace in the darkness and this new life though given through you shall continue even after your withdrawal from it
Once we were the greatest of friends
We enjoyed each other’s company
We could talk to each other for hours
We talked about anything and everything
Nothing was off limits or sacred between us
I used to love to make you laugh and smile
I never thought you did enough of either
You once said that we had a special connection
I thought nothing could ever come between us
I thought you would always be a part of my life
I thought we would be friends until the end
I cared for you to the very depths of my soul
I came to love you for unique reasons
Your difficult life made me crazy with worry
Your silence only served to make that worse
I would wonder if you were hurt or dead
I foolishly tried to be your everything
knowing full well that was impossible
but that did not keep me from trying
because you were always worth it to me
Once we were the greatest of friends
You once said you had a big heart
but there was no room in it for me
You must hate me to your very core
You knew nothing would hurt me more
than to leave me writhing in confusion
behind your unrelenting wall of silence
forever to wonder if you are dead or alive
silently praying that your life got less scary
because I will never stop caring about you
I refuse to give up on you like others have
You and others may think me a fool
but realize that I do not have it in me
to do to you what you are doing to me
I truly hope you are in a better place now
and nothing but good ever comes to you
I hope you find everything you seek in life
Maybe someday before I take my final journey
you will realize the kind of friend you had in me
Hopefully someday you will find a way to forgive me
for being crazy enough about you to foolishly believe
that I could fill all the voids and vacuums in your life
that others deliberately caused or callously left behind
Perhaps someday you will finally come to understand
that I did this because I believed you were far better
than the sum of all your mistakes and bad judgments.
When I looked at you I never saw just another woman
who had simply been ravaged by life and left broken
I saw what I believed was a “Masterpiece Undefined”
Alas maybe I am nothing more than a crazy blind dreamer
stumbling through life seeing only the very best in people
daring to believe that I can make them see what I see.
Time Traveling
by Odin Roark
When time travels,
Does the clock wonder
As it watches us watch it moving?
Does it see us gaze at numbers
Like forgotten memories in orbit,
A chronicle of yesterday’s journeys?
As time travels,
Our glances recall impetuous youth,
A gathering disdain for aging,
And hopeful resolve when we are old.
When time is traveling,
Why do we watch precise starts and stops,
Question ourselves of distance and time,
Preoccupy our minds with an end game?
Perhaps it’s because…
Clocks are made to travel,
Counting down the intervals we create,
The personal vacuums of measured life,
And ever increasing awareness of death.
All the while…
Existence remains infinite,
Readily aware
When one to twelve travels,
It is but by man’s limiting invention.
please, give him
your shoes
he would wish for your feet as well -
please, give him
your hat
& you would lose your heart & head as well -
please, give him
your house
he would wish for your wife & life as well -
please, give him
your world
he could demand to be your god as well -
for all that pleases you to give
tho filling the entire world
there is more that pleases him to take
tho filling worlds beyond the world -
then, please, give him
even the empty vacuums of the universe.
I'm a flower; I stand tall and primp for the world to see,
As a blooming princess, I incur both acclaim and glory.
Shaking shyly under a whimsical sky in dull tree stumps,
Soft melting snow vacuums up my tumescent clumps.
Eastward, where the eagle's feathers spread for flight,
Glow magnifies, bidding farewell to the fading twilight.
Once the days lengthen, they grow rosier and warmer,
Wintry endless dullness for my darling little charmer.
Paving the way for brighter days and lifting the spirit,
Vivid illumination, glowing embers, ruby, and pure merit.
Vibe shone in dual heat, a starry sky coated in sublime,
As stirring winds sate the slight cold, of ululating time.
Awe-inspiring bliss at the first arrival of spring thrill,
The morphology of the blooms on the saffron daffodil
Ritzily jasmine, eerie whispers ripple across the woods,
Spring, my lover, spills my soul in its pacific moods.
Fields of color bloom with bright joy, in ribald delight.
Narcissus competes with tulips for greater height.
1st place contest winner
Written: February 19, 2023
In Bloom Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
She winked, and smiling with
her eyes,
kissed my parched lips,
I could not return her kiss,
and though the years have spun
their cobwebs,
fashioning vacuums out of
forgotten dreams,
It is that kiss that I most miss.
Tonight, I lie awake,
lathered in layered memories,
of love lost, and of love gained,
of open skies,
and of rains crashing through
my weak rhymes,
that have strained,
across the vast emptiness,
seeking absolution,
for my emotional crimes...
(This Scribble is a Work in
Progress. Just Like Life)
Oh, Nothing! You sly, elusive spud,
You’re the star of this poem (though technically dud).
You haunt empty fridges, blank quizzes, and minds,
The gap where my keys hide and my weekend plans wind.
You’re the punchline of vacuums, the muse of bare shelves,
The reason I’m talking to lamps by myself.
You’re the “E” in my bank account, crisp and austere,
The punch I forgot in my joke over here.
Some say you’re profound—philosophers swoon,
But let’s be real: you’re a nap’s favorite tune.
You’re the silence between a bad pun and “Huh?”,
The plot of a mime’s TED Talk—oh, brother, enough!
You wear pajamas daily, yet still blend right in,
A champion of naps, but you never quite win.
You’re the cloudless blue sky with no bird, plane, or flair,
The “U up?” text sent to a cactus. Bold. Rare.
So here’s to you, Nothing, you cheeky old void,
The world’s quietest meme, forever deployed.
Though poets may weep for your depth, I insist:
You’re the *something* I missed… wait. Dang. Plot twist!
---
P.S. If you liked this poem, pay me in air.
(It’s fitting, since Nothing and I split despair.)