Best Washers Poems
And We Call It……
Sprinkles, drizzles,
Mists and downpours;
Torrents, cloudbursts
Liquid sunshine;
Showers, deluge,
Mists and squalls,
Gully washers -
Thunder showers.
Pelting, pounding,
Soaking, drenching;
Dancing, pouring
Cats and dogs;
Bursting, drifting
Floating, falling,
Coming down
In buckets.
Comes in summer
Rides on thunder,
Comes in autumn
Twirls on whirlwinds;
Comes in winter
Plays with blizzards;
Comes in springtime
Floats on breezes.
Puddles, pools
Of standing water;
Dripping eaves –
Filling gutters;
Celebration
For umbrellas
And we call it…..
RAIN!!!
Once a week we do the wash;
It’s part of our routine.
With just the two of us at home,
There’s not that much to clean.
Apartment living means, for one,
Machines are there to share.
The basement has the laundry room;
We do the washes there.
My husband loads the washers
After I have bagged the clothes,
Then switches them to dryers,
Which is how cycle goes.
We both head down, when time has passed,
To fold and stack the load.
He piles his items, I do mine
And by a silent code…
We split the sheets and towels
And whatever else we share
Until the dryer’s empty
And the folding table’s bare.
We schlep the basket back upstairs
And put the wash away
Until next week, when once again
It will be laundry day.
We live as kings and queens of yesterday could only dream
Central heat, plumbing, air-conditioning, washers and dryers too
We shower once or twice a day, with conditioner and shampoo
Steak every night should we want it, followed by cake and ice cream
So why all the self-absorbed anxiety? Why all the alienation?
You'd think we'd be glad of more time to exercise our imagination
Difference is royalty had servants who responded to their every command
Kings and Queens had lively instantaneous conversation on demand
Dependent on machines, woe are we
Leading emotion-free lives
of people-less poverty
If my flesh should ever wither away
My soul will live on forever and a day.
My good deeds and stains I've made in this world
Will cycle through forever like a washers whirl.
I will live forever...i could never die!!!
My spirit is what you loved
The flesh is for the eye.
You need not mourn nor lament
My flesh will die but my spirit will transcend.
You can enjoy me over and over like a cd or tape
In spirit i will live forever... day by day.
Scrubbing dishes in a cold kitchen,
on a tabletop rats nibble
through a leather bible cover.
She turns,
a lock of sweat matted hair over one eye,
shakes a red knuckle at a wailing child
sat on the floor by the door.
When Mary, in washed-out despair,
leaves, she leaves a bible, the rats
and a child there.
Mary drying his feet with her hair.
Mary at the temple calling for him.
Mary full of sperm on a street corner.
Mary full of a Grace,
a face that makes her invisible
to rabid dogs and drinking men.
I want to put all of Her together
old and young,
fat Mary on roller skates,
sweet Mary sucking candy,
badly handled and shady Mary,
to speak now for all the wet and dry virgins
slobber some words from a beaten heart,
for all the mother’s, all the worshiping foot washers;
a patchwork Mary, a working Mary.
Let us adore her from an upstairs room
where the cockroaches scuttle near
having no fear. if we don’t,
she might one day castrate us with a steely smile.
Today I walked for Mary,
the sky was a blue egg, robed with light.
I ate a chicken sandwich, lips slick with grease.
In the Chick-fil-A a family was praying over their fast food.
The joint was hopping
kids scooting in and out of seats.
A dozen Mary’s were trying to corral them,
get then to be nice like Christ.
Later I spoke to her at the foot of a crucifix,
told her all my s..t,
felt better, a kind of peace,
knowing she knew all the things I do in the dark
when she comes to me for forgiveness and rest.
I make the sign of the cross,
I make the sign of the cross.
I mean why not?
Prayers descend like acid rain from
oligarch-soaked manchurians, stumping
for elected office, praising hybrid
demigods, passing out vouchers to the
peasants.
A slow rumbling-
part of the night-sounds-of-curfew;
descends like fire ants.
Cleaners of the guilt, hidden in plain faith,
unable or unwilling to walk, feign
blindness, darkness helps.
Cellphone towers only reflect scripted
light, as memories of real sunshine, fade
to black. A good cup of coffee is hard to
find, all the fine beans were swept away
early on, replaced by dancing bears,
politely ignored. Thunderclouds, imagined
in shapes of our founding fathers,
encourage the deluge, slowly ascending.
Underground-
a grim band-of-believers watch (again)
a pirated tape of their favorite '80's movie,
'They Live' from the fabled city called the
new capital in 'The Postman' Minneapolis..
while the tormented sounds of-
plows
scraping overhead, and
hydrants,
bellys full, feeding power washers,
cascade
over hardened
faces.
05/11/14
minneapolis
© All Rights Reserved
The sock monster climbs up the waste pipe
And into your washing machine
He’ll hide up in a corner
To ensure he can’t be seen.
Then when you put you clothes in
And you’ve set the washers clock
He’ll dive into your washing
And select a single sock.
This special prize, he’ll carry off
To his secret monster lair
And share this tasty morsel
With his monster wife so fair.
© John W Fenn 03-12-2008
Form:
Crack open an eye on Saturday morn,
and reach out to give him a cuddle.
To find he's been up since break of dawn,
and crouched in a black oily puddle.
Began with the Polo, a fast one I guess,
On day three the engine goes BOOM!
Self serviced the car to cost himself less,
Now there's wires spewing out from the loom.
A holey exhaust, a broken headlight,
and *** burns adorning each seat.
The bulbs have all blown so he cant drive at night,
or too far coz the car overheats.
To top this all off, he then bought a Golf
GTI so it's fast as a cheetah.
It's German, it's black, he's named it Adolf,
The fact it won't start, common feature.
He pulled out the seats and the engine and tanks,
It's now just a sad empty shell.
I put up and put up but still get no thanks,
So I wish these cars would burn in hell.
I'm tired of washers and bolts on the floor,
of my kitchen and hallway and loo.
Got wires and leads and cards off the doors,
Full suspension in my living room.
Im sick of these Dubs, I'm sick of the sight
of alloys and tyres and....just....bits.
The attention these Dubs get from morning til night,
It's beginning to get on my.....nerves.
Just put down your spanner, your socket and wrench
and grab a cold drink from the fridge
Take off your stained jeans, and jump in the bath
Now, where did I put the phone number for the scrap yard?.......
6th September 2011
" Serious Message "
While sleeping one night
I had a terrible dream
a vivid vision inside of me
a Serious Message
of all the crime and hate
reflected within our society.
Emergency alarms
car alarms
graffiti and trash
all over the city.
Noise and air pollution
high crime and violence
unsightly with ugliness
and all such a pity.
Prostitution and destitution
drugs everywhere flowing
all over your town
the power of satin
taking over the world
causing many believers to frown.
Stripped and burnt out cars
too many gay bars
violent street crime
and rapper’s rhymes
are societies ugly reflection
now is what’s happening
during our current times.
No one stops to help
the blood shed glistens
from the thugs driving by
funeral pyre is big business
blood washers rinse
just another one to die.
Glass is a breaking
broken bodies aching
society is over whelmed
with burial shrouds
blood covered shanks
bodies full of holes
the thugs standing proud.
Dating of the ladies
raping them after
no love instead just hate
unwanted kids to wonder
surviving on the streets
this has become their fate.
Churches empty to burn
hate is behavior learned
our race is slowly eroding
homeless no place to lie
so many morn and cry
our society quickly corroding.
Crumbling inner city life
there is no real future
protective bars on too many windows
cost for repairs too high
overpopulation is real
destruction everyone knows.
I woke up sweating
my head was throbbing
to our living reality
this Serious Message
so full of crime and hate
is now our living society.
Our society today
death rockets flying
too many people are dying
no more promise land
rather high crime
leading the honest to crying.
We all need to stand together
as a strong society
while we better all defend
before its all gone
no more beautiful earth
no more life but the end...
Penned By MPK
11/11/16
"Water"
On land and in the water
Ores such as copper
The M.V. P. of the entire roster
Back in the day they use to call me Harry Potter
Show me a lady that can cook like Betty Crocker
I'll appreciate every meal especially the peach Cobbler
Showing her respect and honor
And treating her proper
My mind continuing to wander
What opportunity lies over yonder?
Something I could find out or just continue to ponder
No it's not ever cool to be a bank robber
Or suicide bomber
Of every rhyme I post, I am the author
In school was only a mediocre scholar
Objects assembled with screws and washers
Certains days shorter or longer
Depending on the season the weather getting colder or hotter
Nearby in these waters exists otters
Where people fish in fresh and saltwater
For many things, like trout, crab ,salmon and lobster
Trees grown from seeds, with much more than hard work and a water dropper
No good in remaining to be somber
Got to prosper
By showing and proving what I got to offer
I love playing sports, even soccer
I'm a fan of any well made lager
And I've always had an interest in owning a dog that is a boxer
Fascinations in all species not just nightcrawlers
Never was the biggest talker
Just trying to become wiser and stronger
One day I just may own a chair that is a rocker
By: Dalton Ogletree
I know of a man
The finest man from the Southern land
That man is my dad
He is just a small town Southern man
As strong as a bull and as old as a mountain,
He wouldn’t harm a flea and is as wise as can be
He’s as smart as a whip,
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks
He rather be working at home or at the family farm,
Instead he works on washers and dryers every day
He drinks Heineken from some German town
Cause he truly is just a small town Southern man
cars, knives, building, planes, boats, pens, computers, soda pop, lighters, money,
jewelery, tvs, tool, stoves, fridges, blenders, forks, spoons, guns, heater, ac, belts,
fans, canned food, batterys, toasters, washers, dryers........
what do all these things have in common. it's truly unnatural.
Form:
I have never lost a sock
’twas the dryer did the deed
From the prison of my drawer
It has somehow now been freed!
I have never lost two socks
Washers often need a snack
Either that or they eloped
Anyhow, they ain’t been back
I have never lost three socks
On three wash days in a row
Conspiracy, I must profess!
The joke’s on me, I’ll never know
2/3/23
After YEARS of not losing a sock!
I am baffled!!!
I thought I would have, all my cards in the mail
You can tell that my pace, is that of a snail
I’m such a “go getter” and I hate sitting still
One things’ for certain, I haven’t lost my will.
All the testing, the blood work, x-rays and more
Thank goodness the lab, has a revolving door.
I’m covered in bruises, from head to my toes,
I say it’s ‘cuz, I punched a guy in the nose.
This pill, and that pill, it is hard to keep track
Is this for my stomach, my eyes or my back?
All of my treatments, are a thing of the past
I don’t have to see doctors, I’m free at last.
Believe it or not, hubby’s quite a good cook
And he doesn’t follow, a recipe book.
I’ve had to scold him every once in a while
“Please don’t leave that clean laundry, sit in that pile”.
He vacuums, does laundry and even does chores
Fixes washers, dryers and paints all the doors
He’ll relax in his chair, and he snores quite fast
When he gets loud, I’ll turn the TV full blast.
I have to admit, that it’s funny to see
Looking out that window, as he trims the tree.
I still try to figure, why men can’t “just trim”
NO, they hack, saw, and pull and leave just a limb.
The Grandchildren are growing, fast every day
Time passes quickly, which is scary to say.
Thank goodness for family, and friends such as you
May all of your dreams, and wishes come true.
MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR
Life in the house is pretty easy these days,
what with washers, vacuams, fridges, and microwaves.
My poor old mum had none of those,
just the old fashoined copper, and scrubbing board, to wash our clothes.
No mains water, or power,
so of course, there was no shower.
Meat safe hanging in the tree outside,
giant blowflies, committing suicide.
Baking a cake was quite a feat,
for the wood stove had to be kept at a constant heat.
At night the kerosine lamp was lit,
for a nighttime visit to the bog outside, one required a candle for a sit.
Hot water cylinder rumbling away,
meant the wood stove had been going all day.
The old flat iron, for ironing clothes,
permanent press, there were none of those.
I know exactly what my old mum would say,
if she saw the gadgets we have in our homes today.
Holy Cow.