Best Washrag Poems
I wonder again why I have talked, uninterrupted
Until I am blue in the face
Convincing as I may be
You still believe
You're nothing more than human waste
Empty threats, locked doors turn into quiet space
So I kick and kick until the door breaks through
On the floor I find you
Anger such, an adrenaline rush
But no sign of you cold and blue
Different scene- you run straight out the door
Staggering bleeding from the wrist you cut
Eating poison to lure- me back in but
How many times will I chase you out the door?
I'm calling your name urgent
Then tired and sore
Because I've played this game too many times before
How many more police reports?
Worry turns to wonders of what this is all for
And all you seem to want is more
How many times for you
A helicopter in the city
Wasted time, attention, pity
How many times will I let you back inside
When your running came to an end and it became impossible to hide?
Taking refuge back home you come inside
Naked we get into the bathtub together
"Let's get you all cleaned off."
I take a washrag to the dirt and cuts on your skin with a touch so soft
You begin to cry, a whimper so
You hang your head
No more defense
The things you say begin to make sense
And I realize you're back.. It's you!
That sickening twist I never wanted to accept as truth
Because that anger I tried to hold on to
To show you that this I would not allow
Was for someone else
Surely it wasn't for you who is sitting in front of me now
My anger and frustration melts into something much more pure
Derived from the love that I have for you
And you crave it
Say "More, please more"
How many more apologies will I accept?
Or secrets from me should be kept?
Things I say in one ear and out the other
My patients wears thin
I somehow always find a way to get it back again
This poem was written 2012
Rest In Peace
Nicholas D. Lovelace
5/21/88 - 12/07/16
I was reeking of spilled grape juice yesterday.
Today I stink like cigarettes.
In less than two weeks I have gone from new to old.
From crisp to filthy,
from sticky to stiff.
I shudder as my aggressor pulls me apart.
She yells something to her partner.
I don’t recognize the words, but….
Every time she yells this,
my belly hurts for days from her wickedly
insensitive manipulation, and indelicate prodding.
After fishing around with her hands, stirring
Green gum wrapper carcasses from one
Side of my tummy to the other,
She finally lets me catch my breath.
WHAM! I am completely dizzy when she
twists me upside down and shakes me hard,
Slapping my bottom with long, angry slugs.
I throw up pencils, pens, erasers, a variety of multi-colored
Toys, a washrag, crackers, cellophane wrappers,
A half-eaten candy bar, gritty stomach acid pills,
Paperclips, a baby’s shoe, two headbands, dust mites,
A dog biscuit and so many receipts it is ridiculous.
“Here they are!” Her partner calls.
She pops all the junk back into me, throws in
Her car keys for dessert, and off we go for more receipts.
I long for my clean shelf in Macy’s, and my relatives.
Ralph the roach
Is of a devilish kind
He will forever encroach
Upon all that he finds
He will sample your food
When you're not aware
He will think you rude
If you don't want to share
He loves to sneak around
Surprise is his favorite game
He won't make a sound
To scare you is his aim
He waits on the ceiling
As you take your shower
He grins in excited feeling
Ready to make you cower
Then he launches himself down
As you scream and slip on the soap
You see his flash of brown
And throw your shampoo bottle, feeling like a dope
You grab the shower curtain
Trying not to fall
If you got him, you're not certain
You're really quite appalled
Suddenly he runs through your feet
And you do a crazy dance
He will never admit defeat
He will surely escape if he has the chance!
You throw your washrag at him
Your conditioner and towel too
It seems the little beast can swim
Though you try to drown him, shouting, “Shoo!”
By then water is spraying everywhere
And Ralph the roach is laughing in glee
It's become such a nightmare
As he takes the opportunity to flee
But one day he'll return
Why would he leave a place so fun?
He knows you'll never learn
That a roach's job is never done!
It's evening
I'm inside the bathroom
looking into the mirror
opening up my head
taking out my brain like a washrag
The light flows in from down the hallway
bending into the mirror's depths
displaying my melancholy face
the faded surroundings that all seem gray
Wringing out my brain over the sink
draining all of my emotions and thoughts
swirling down the white ceramic sink
all my monstrous desires
I apply strawberry-colored soap to my brain
kneading it deep into my brain
trying to wash out the blood, the filth, the dull textures
the voices that repeat inside of my head
the torment of my present
http://artcomet.blogspot.com
The Coffee Maker 3500
In this order:
a little cup (measures rice)
wet washrag (used at bathtime)
a little strainer (drains water from tuna)
measuring cup (one cup size)
all of this serves up coffee
in a boy’s imagination
draining the tub
7/25/2020
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Garage door opener
Ice cream carton
Pencil, erasers, pencil sharpener
Magazines
Tv remote
Gummie pills
Magic markers
Towel
Black sock
Gray sandal
Sketch pad
Twinkie wrapper
Snickers bar
Kleenexes
Washrag
Comb
Tape measure
Scissors
Toenail clippers
Green hoodie
Small table inside my front door