Best Washing Poems
I received an email today :
"Would you like to join
The Underpants Club"
A new underwear
directly at your door
once a month
(for only 20 bucks)
Did you say once a month?
My mother taught me
Replace after one use - without exception
In the old days
they had not heard of bacteria ...
but changed underpants
at least every other Saturday
When spring came
it was time for laundry
that took place outdoors,
at the creek or the water post
where there was plenty of clean water available
Fleas and lice are nasty
... and itches terribly
28.02.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Poem Of The Day: 01.03.2020
With hands immersed in suds and water warm,
I stand before the sink, humbled vassal,
To plates and dishes, grease and grime the norm,
My task to cleanse this polychromed passel.
Each cup I cradle with a gentle pinch,
Their curves and corners, every angle blessed,
Rinse them speckless, my soapy palm a winch,
A chore completed, my service at rest.
For though this labor at face is mundane,
It's in the simple things we find our grace,
And so I wash each dish with grateful strain,
And let their gleaming surfaces erase
The chaos and the clutter of the day,
A small but satisfying task, I say.
Monday ~ it is off to work I must go.
Tuesday ~ the best night for TV watching.
Wednesday ~ tonight eating left overs from the weekend.
Thursday ~ I am almost to the end of the week.
Friday ~ I lived through another week, Hooray!!!
Saturday ~ it is a busy day washing and cleaning.
Sunday ~ a day for my Lord and me to talk.
Where did the time go???
I have inherited pleasure:
the rhythm of pegs, the smell
of buttery sun on sheets,
a whispering murmur of trees
standing around, and the company
of magpies inspecting
with one eye looking for worms.
Something is wrong with the washing machine
It's supposed to save me time
The sound of it chugging and whirring away
Is simply quite divine
I'm not quite sure how it happened
The process need some refining
'Cos when the washer has finished it's job
I'm always left with the Ironing.
As clean running water flows through dirty dishes
Immense joy and peace bathe her tired being
While veined deft hands scour surfaces and edges
She becomes aware of her body and breathing
Immense joy and peace bathe her tired being
As inner quiet rises and makes its home in her
She becomes aware of her body and breathing
As the plates and sink caress each other
As inner quiet rises and makes its home in her
She becomes mindful of herself and some truths
As the plates and sink caress each other
Her mind and heart unite which amazingly soothes
She becomes mindful of herself and some truths
As her ill thoughts are met with steel wool opposition
Her mind and heart unite which amazingly soothes
And her soul is animated like a new spotless creation
As her ill thoughts are met with steel wool opposition
False magnanimity is wiped with washcloth of humility
And her soul is animated like a new spotless creation
As clean running water flows through dirty dishes
8/9/14
Looking at the washing machine,
A thought came in my mind,
If our brain too had a system just like it,
Everyday we would remove all possible stains,
Of jealousy, anger, hatred and pain.
I wondered and pondered,
And the process of self realization began..
By learning and following some steps,
We can actually develop such a mechanism,
The detergent being optimism,
Our wisdom and kind conduct code,
Would enable it on fully automatic mode,
Our humility and simplicity,
Will function like electricity,
Our smile and acceptance of err,
Shall perform the task of water,
Forgiveness could be substance,
Which will add on the fragrance,
All hurt,
Will then vanish just as the dirt,
Resulting into bright and clean mind..
Each golf course has its own rules per link
Some are more controversial than others methinks
Like people must be dressed
Wearing undies like the rest
One sign read “please don't wash your balls in the sink”
Betty, she had done some washing
She hung it on the line
The sun it shone down, so she hoped
The weather it would be fine
Then John (her husband) heard the forecast
He told her that it looked like rain
And so she did think to herself
"I'd better bring it in again"
Soon the sky turned black and cloudy
And the wind began to blow
Then, they were taken by surprise
Cause then that rain did turn to snow
Intake of detergent
I need it now it's urgent
Give me lavender a big supply
I'm complex so oversimplify.
Have I told you I'm complex
See my insides are convex
I get vexed easily
Like a raging army of clouds
So hastily
Don't push my buttons
There's many, dozens.
I also have a vast amount of cycles
I'm sorry I'm just old
But if you give me some bold I'll be content
Willing to remove all the stains of your life's mess by 60%.
See I can't give 100 no not anymore
I'm dizzy
I've told you about my cycles
Now to be recycled
See I somber at the thought
A whirlpool of emotions.
But isn't it delightful to have a second chance
The big revival... the second coming, resurrection
An even healthier, more aesthetic complexion.
Hmmmm maybe a Harley Davidson Street 7-5-0
So I could cycle and cycle forever ya know.
Fancy a spin?
My swimming pool is full of fur, pee, and dog poo.
Your dogs contaminate my pool and it's because of you.
Every day while I'm at work, you use my pool to bathe your twenty-five mutts.
When I asked you to stop it, you gave me the finger and I punched you in the gut.
You laughed at me but you stopped when I broke out most of your teeth.
I knocked you flat on your sorry ass and made you feel a lot of grief.
You threw a punch but you broke your hand on my belt buckle.
Then I caved in half of your face when I put on my steel knuckles.
You were ugly before but you should look in the mirror now.
Even blind girls won't date you because you look like a sow.
Your damn dogs have ruined my pool and my patience grows thin.
I'll cut out your gizzard if you wash your dogs in my pool again.
(This is a fictional poem.)
We run a mobile washing machine van,
To help all the people with none.
We wash really fast, have it clean, dried and ironed,
Ready to wear when we’re done.
We visit the aged, we visit the flats,
We visit the homeless and down.
We leave everyone looking beautiful again,
Beautiful all over the town.
It isn’t so hard, doesn’t cost very much,
When we park the crowds start to swell.
Giving all of their jeans, their shirts, shorts and socks,
Giving all of their foul apparel.
But what’s really interesting is the lack of forethought,
The crowds become a little bit rude.
They hand over their clothes to wash there and then,
Then they all stand around in the nude.
Sunday school activity
Making paper mache
And like a disciple or Jesus
Playing the servant
In turns
Bent over plastic tubs
Of soapy water
A foggy memory
Like blowing bubbles
The towels were fluffy
Terry cloth
Recently someone said Jesus wore linen
Toga party
Like the Greek Gods?
Wonder at the words that Aristole would whisper
Wonder if T.S.Eliot would take the time to talk
Wonder when Mr. Miller stopped believing
The philosphoher, the poet and the playwright
Have they ever played with clay?
On her green washing day
Una wore green too,
and pegged the washing out along the line.
They were green pegs of course,
with red monkeys on the top
to please the children.
It was nice to see her pegging
in the careless wind
and watching monkeys dancing...
These danced in unison -
twenty monkeys at a time with Una,
in amongst the washing.
-----------------------------------------
7/25/2015
Contest - Your Favorite Poem
Sponsor - Judy Konos
1st place win
The meal was over
And with apprehension
I took my plate to the kitchen
Where I looked at the devastation
Caused by its preparation.
Who could guess
That a cook could make such a mess.
Pots and pans were everywhere
Causing a washing despair
Especially as I was the one
To get it done.
It would have been easier
With a dishwashing machine
But since last week it is a has-been
Just when I need it most
It gave up the ghost.
To add to my dismay
The water’s cold
Because we were told
They’re cutting the power today.
Now the grease won’t budge
It’s a sticky sludge
That won’t go down the drain
And remains everywhere.
I can’t wait to go to heaven
And see a sign
No food or wine
Beyond this gate.