Best Wringer Poems
Mom caught her boob in the washer’s wringer
Rotor made Mom an opera singer
Tit for tat, she got redder
Pop struggled with the lever
I pulled the plug, was able to spring ‘er
Wow! Mum is the word on this awful day
We don’t refer to this deed of foul play
“Hah! Your Dad’s a dud," she cried
As with pain pills she was plied
Now under the radar Pop stays away
*Entry for David William’s Palindrome Mad Contest
By Carolyn Devonshire
Palindrome Words:
Mom, boob, rotor, tit, tat, redder, Pop, Wow, Mum, refer, deed, Hah!, Dad, dud, radar
Categories:
wringer, funny, mum,
Form:
Limerick
It’s easy to remember the good times
Never thinking about the pain
Rose colored memories of sunshine
We forgot about the rain
Times were so much harder then
Sometimes not a penny to our name
Fighting just to make ends meet
But I’d go back there just the same
It seems we were much poorer
No luxuries I recollect
But we worked for what we wanted
We had a sense of self-respect
There was an old coal stove in the living room
That would heat our home at winter’s start
But the real warmth was generated
By the love within our heart
Sometimes the car wouldn’t start
It had a manual choke
We’d push it to catch it in gear
If we had a dime we weren’t broke
If you had chicken pox or measles
They’d put a sign on your front door
We had hand me downs to wear
And credit at the grocery store
Everyone worked somewhere
Most of them at the mine
Mom did the wash with a wringer washer
And hung the clothes out on the line
So I’ll take those rose colored memories
As though they were a priceless work of art
And put them where they will be safe
Deep inside my heart.
Categories:
wringer, nostalgia
Form:
Rhyme
Is the honeymoon over
I’ll tell you what gives me a hunch
When I leave for work in the morning
She hands me my luggage instead of my lunch
Is the honeymoon over
What’s happening doesn’t make sense
When I put my arms around her
It’s strictly in self defense
Is the honeymoon over
While my heart is put through the wringer
When I come home I get no smile
Instead I get the finger
Is the honeymoon over
I can’t understand what she feels
When I said that I might leave her
She started doing cartwheels
Is the honeymoon over
Will I find my life in a rut
She said she wasn’t losing her best friend
She was losing a pain in the butt
Now I know the honeymoon’s over
And staying together would be too hard
When I tried to cut the grass I found
She planted land mines in my back yard
Just for fun
NO!! Don’t shoot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Categories:
wringer, funnyme,
Form:
Rhyme
…thirteen miners…
…only one survived…
…still clinging to life...
...with a history of violations...
It wasn’t West Virginia.
It was I.
And I’m taking the day off.
I know it won’t rhyme,
But I’ve been pummeled.
Run through the wringer.
It’ll be coffee now,
Black and bitter,
The way I like it.
Later, I’ll have some soup.
Chicken soup.
Chicken soup without the chicken.
Chicken soup without the broth.
I’ll just look at the can.
Art soup.
It wasn’t Warhol.
It was I.
…Sago Mine officials…
…two miles inside…
…280 feet down…
...Wall Street rallied on rumors…
… of sexual improprieties...
...deep discounts expected…
…news and talk all day…
…classical music all night…
But mostly just dead air.
…The president will be speaking later today...
...the leak came from a well-placed source…
It wasn’t his press secretary.
It was I,
…a suicide bomber in...
A place I can’t even pronounce.
Suicide?
In the realm of no-time,
Everything exists simultaneously,
Everywhere, nowhere.
Vast universes containing infinite sparks
Of universal consciousness
Erupting with intelligent randomness.
Everywhere.
Nowhere.
Nothing can be extinguished,
Merely transformed.
…Intifada…
…Gaza…
What does it matter?
It wasn’t Hamas.
It was I.
When Garrison Keillor Recites this poem
On Writer’s Almanac tonight,
He’ll speak different words
And attribute it to another author,
But that’s OK.
It wasn’t NPR.
It was I.
…thirteen miners…
… only one survived…
…still clinging to life...
...with a history of violations…
It wasn’t West Virginia.
It was I.
And I’m taking the day off.
Categories:
wringer, allegory, death, philosophy,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
It's not easy becoming a Legendary
Major League Baseball pitcher.
It never was and will never be.
You get put through the wringer
and hung out to dry.
From time to time you'll get little or no
run support.
You may have to face Legendary Icons
of the game 2 and 3 times in a game.
Come face to face with undisguised
Batting Champions.
Silver Slugger Award Winners.
Members and potential Members of the
500 Home Run Club.
Members and potential Members
of the 3000 Hits Club
A few Future Members of
Baseballs Hall of Fame
as well as Iconic MLB ALL STARS.
You will face monumental challenges.
You'll get worn down and roughed up
being on the road 82 games a season.
As a Major League Baseball Starting Pitcher
you suck it up, go out on the mound
and challenge history.
You bring your "A" game
You bring your best fastball
your best curve ball
and your best change up.
When you average 33 starts a season.
Average 10 complete games per season.
Average 3 shut outs per season.
Throw a No Hitter every 3.857 seasons.
Face an average 972 batters per season.
Average 232 innings per season
Through hot , cold , humid and sticky weather.
Give up an average 169 hits per season.
Average 232 innings per season.
Average 82 earned runs per season.
Give up an average 14 home runs in 33 games
over 232 innings per season.
When you average 120 walks per season
Strike out an average 246 batters per season
for a career total of 5714.
It kinda looks like this.
6.6 hits per 9 innings
4.7 walks per 9 innings
9.5 strike outs per 9 innings
Over 27 seasons.
When you do that for a total of 27 seasons
The critics will call you the next
Nolan Ryan.
The Legendary Strike Out King
Member of Major League Baseballs
Hall of Fame.
Michael E. Harris
02202022
Categories:
wringer, baseball, character, culture, identity,
Form:
Free verse
I’m back in my childhood’s home
in its dank and dismal cellar
walking warily, unsteadily down
ancient
narrow
stairs.
The old-time wash machine with wringer
stands there in the center of the gloom
as I remember well it always used to.
Above me is the hanging bulb
with my late step-dad’s makeshift switch
which once I was electrocuted by (strange current went surging
from my fingers to the middle of my arm).
My eyes are just beginning to adjust.
But still it is so black.
Something’s in this room with me.
I sense, I do not see malignancy -
It’s omniscient; omnipresent
and pressing onto me.
A bat is fluttering eerily;
I know this, and yet I cannot see its wheeling frantic wings.
I make my way
so slowly to the bulb
suspended from the low and cobwebbed ceiling.
Reaching out I grasp the switch,
and a face appears suddenly before me.
Fear washes over my entire being. . .
Satan has me!
(This was, in fact, a nightmare, the worst I ever had. Nothing else ever came close!)
Categories:
wringer, childhood, , cute,
Form:
Free verse
I'm just a simple man
I wear a cowboy hat and boots
I only shave when I'm asked too
In my closet hangs one suit
Cause it's been there for me
Like a good friend till the end
It's been put through the wringer
I think it's even had some mends
It may be a little tattered
It may be a little worn
But it's much more than a suit
It's helped me weather my life's storms
It holds onto some memories
Teardrops, it's caught a few
Many happy, many sad, through the good times and the bad
That suit has seen me through
It stood with me at the eulogy
That I gave for my granddad
It was there as my best friend
Honored me as his best man
It was there when the preacher
Asked me if I'd say I do
When I got down on one knee, and you said yes to me
Even on our honeymoon
It holds onto some memories
Teardrops, it's caught a few
Many happy, many sad, through the good times and the bad
That suit has seen me through
It's pockets held the tissues
That held the memories from my eyes
Though some may call them teardrops
I prefer to call them life
It may be just clothes to you
But to me it's like a song
It returns me to the places
Where my heart's come and gone
So I hope that you won't judge me
When they put me in the ground
In that suite of memories, past Heavens gate I'll be
Cause this suit has seen me through
Categories:
wringer, deep, farewell, irony, simple,
Form:
Lyric
Inner strength
When under your wings, ill wind dwells
Stuck knee-deep in life’s expansive marsh
Bobbed about by its unending swells
Your curse it seems, is strangely harsh
Then, hope’s decaying carcass’ putrid stench
Ooze from your pores, each and every day
Your burning courage, subdued by its drench
Eroded, confidence chooses the other way
You're pressured to the brink of life’s rink
On poisoned booze for a permanent snooze
A noose, or other ways, your mind can think
You now ponder, for there’s nothing to lose
My dear friend, of this truth, I must speak
You’re much stronger than you’ll ever know
So when life is hell, to your inner self peek
And seek that strength that always lies low
Your fate you’d think may in perpetuity hatch
Dark patches, to put you through the wringer
On that inner strength, you must learn to latch
Adversity may tarry, but will never forever linger.
Feb 10, 2018
Categories:
wringer, encouraging, inspirational, motivation,
Form:
Quatrain
It was pleasant every time we went to grandpa and grandmas.
We woke up in the morning with the smell of fresh baked bread.
Wouldn't cause much for all of us and grandpa to pause
whatever we were doing and ran when, "It's ready." was said.
Slices of bread smothered with butter and jelly souls were fed.
Grandma would fill the wringer washing machine
with cold water from a hose hooked up to the house,
I enjoyed watching it agitate getting the clothes clean.
We hung them out in the backyard on the clothesline and rouse
the sunshine to dry giving them a fresh air scent especially my blouse.
Now that I'm older with my own family I try to keep those traditions.
I use a bread machine instead of using my hands to knead bread.
One of the few things I lend and provide myself to be ambitions.
On sunny days, I'll hang my clothes out on the clothesline instead.
These small things became quite real to me, I will never dread.
2/19/2018
Poetry Contest: 'The Scent Of Baking Bread, The Scent Of Clean Sheets Fresh Off The Clothesline' English Quintain : a,b,a,b,b
Sponsored By: Sara Kendrick
Categories:
wringer, grandfather, grandmother, memory, sunshine,
Form:
Quintain (English)
12/20/21
Ten hut!
Can't let up
Even though, it can get messed up
Really F'd up
Do not get fed up
Keep your head up
Stay sharp, don't get set up
Careful where a disagreement ends up
Heads up!
Many fast to wet up
From the legs up
To the neck up
Bleeding out a color similar to Ketchup
The proof was there or quickly got swept up
Prices continually went up
Falling behind, because you never kept up
Get your bread up
Often in life you'll have to step up
Sped up
Engines revved up
Couldn't let it go, so they dredge up
Old news they spoke and penned up
But I did my homework and read up
So you're about to get shred up
You'll never surface, even after a check up
Kept mine, others went against their own word
Too late to sojourn
At the point of no return
Due to a slow burn
Often went through the wringer
You'd think I've been on Jerry Springer
She wants the whole world and a gem on her finger
Meanwhile around the corner death always lingers
Hit them with another zinger
Hook, line and sinker
As I continue to tinker
Ya'll can be some stinkers
I always put on a blinker
Soon to give up being a daily drinker
Becoming a complex thinker
Avoiding any gold diggers
Feeling vigor
It's time I'm onto something bigger
Don't need to reconsider
Even though many are quick to pull the trigger
People continuing to bicker
Remaining bitter
Known as a fibber
Caught up on twitter
It's been pleasant or gotten sicker
Going well or down the s***ter
Staying clean or full of litter
A whole nation hooked
Easily getting cooked
And forsook
They never caught on or looked
Strength, dedication and heart is what it took
Couldn't find it all from a book
Had to put each foot
Through miles of soot
By the end they were shook
Or tried to portray me as a crook
Not a big fan of dungarees
Getting tired of all this gluttony
Too much redundancy
And puppetry
Still living sucker-free
Yet another attempted to humble me
So I got the upper hand suddenly
Their soul the devil took custody
I continued on triumphantly
Cautious of who's around as company
She's just a tease
And he's such a sleaze
Try to touch my cheese
Then the trigger of a gun I squeeze
Doesn't matter if you run or freeze
Categories:
wringer, dark, deep, life, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Sewing machine, long idle, gathered dust,
That Singer, that for Mama was a must.
She tried her best to teach me how to sew,
But it was hard to catch me on the go.
I wanted a real job with ample pay,
At sewing lessons, I could never stay.
When Mom died, she left me her old Singer,
As antique as washer with a wringer.
The war years seemed like only yesterday.
While they lasted, I had a job with pay.
I bought my dresses off rack at Penney's,
And could afford to eat lunch at Denny's.
I kept Mom's picture on her old sewer.
She smiled at me sitting 'neath hair blower.
I started as my big dog gave a bark,
The candle sputtered, spent and all was dark.
Categories:
wringer, mother daughter, nostalgia, war,
Form:
Rhyme
The Red Devil, Bronco Johnson in 75
I lived in Morningside, moved in a massage parlor girl
2 kids a Kangaroo dog and a white rat called Merle (Greyhound roo catcher)
We had a druggie ambo man, so Wayne put her in his bed
And they’d be a smoking weed, the Ambo and Mildred
Of course she had a Bludger who lived on her wage of sin...(pimp)
So Wayne chased him out to work used my stock whip on young Jim
Seems she started working from the house, clients were coming in
Commonwealth Police watched the place, we went to New Farm slim
Jenny came to visit me and Wayne he had Estelle
I worked at the Hacienda and the Jet club as well (Bouncer)
Estelle was jealous, maybe Jane was on the side
Estelle married a 21 year old, 42 the blushing bride
Wayne went to the local café to get a burger feed
Said how you doing Charlie Brown to a dark and swarthy weed
Who said “I’m ok mate just take a plurry look,”
Car load on the footpath, all his brothers and a chook (shiela)
Rubbish dumped on the street, we had gone and seen
Soon we had some furniture and a washing machine
We shoved some fellas to get through, then in the boot she’d ride
Discovered later it was new, plastic on the wringer side
So Wayne went back to Charleville or maybe places north
To fly across the flooded creeks, fast for all he’s worth (60mph)
For the highway does a beckon, yes he’s still a driving on
And I surely really miss him and I can’t believe he’s gone
Don Johnson
Wife stealing cousin Wayne died of prostate in 07 ?
He had stolen my wife in 1998 :)
But them's the breaks hey:)
60 miles and hour across flooded creeks
Categories:
wringer, adventure, cousin, drug,
Form:
Rhyme
in the animal kingdom of insect society
each member has a purpose in the heirarchy
from the very beginning until the last stage of their existence
each one has a specific task that they perform with persistence
but us human beings we have to discern
what from our ancestors we most need to learn
utmost is that we just need to get life right
especially when we are standing in view of God's sight
but don't worry about how you will accomplish this deed
as God will provide all the tools that you will need
and even if you have not started out in life with an abundancy
God will help you to fulfill your chosen destiny
and as long as you tap into your God-given purpose for being
the Lord will help you pick up your towel of service to go achieving
fighting temptation with a purpose in mind
in doing the right thing most often you will find
that if you ever veer away from God's master plan
you will wind up with a disaster on your hands
and whenever you succumb to the pressures of society
you'll find yourself in the midst of a crisis of identity
and if ever you allow the adversary to get a toehold on you
he'll wear you down and a spiritual wringer he'll put you through
you might not have all the resources in life that you desire
just tap into your purpose for being and let God give you all you'll require
just like Josiah whose father was not the best of men
the type of life he led was hard to swallow and comprehend
instead Josiah looked ahead towards his God-given destiny
not left nor right but at God's unfailing certainty
moving with a purpose and God's assurety
moving with the grace of God and His authority
fighting temptation with a purpose in life
fighting against temptation in your walk with Jesus Christ
don't let the world label you and put you in a mold
you're a child of the Living God with a purpose to unfold
God gave you a gift, a special talent for a reason
and He wants you to utilize it in and out of season
find your purpose for being and with it move towards your destiny
fighting with temptation to become all that you can be
Categories:
wringer, faith, happiness, hope, inspirational,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
he's no musician
those aren't love songs he wrote
they're computer program notes
I slipped away in the nanosecond
it took him to blink
he doesn't know what hit him
maybe a floppy disk
falling from the sky
then again, it could've been
a hard drive
someone needs to hit his system reset button
it ain't me
some other girl can pickup
his dropped parity bit
or worry if everything she says
is word perfect
I've been through his disk drive wringer
probed by his oscilloscope
and had my best chips blown
now I'm sitting by my abacus
a smile on my lips
he can count me out
no modem's attached to my phone
drop me a line in pencil or ink
when you're powered down
then we can backspace delete
alt control home
Categories:
wringer, computer-internetme,
Form:
Hooray it’s laundry day
A perfectly lazy day
Where all I need do
Is get up once in a while
For quick transfers
Just a flick of a button
And wait for the magic to unfold
I have it so easy – growing up
My mom raised us six kids
The car weekly loaded with laundry
Heading down to a local laundromat
Imagine the mountains of laundry!
Clothes for eight, linen and the rest
Often one of the eldest would go help
Then sometimes treated to an ice cream
She had it so easy – I remember
My grand-mother’s laundry day
Piles of laundry scattered everywhere
She’d roll out the manual wringer washer
She’d use brute strength and it took forever
Then she’d hang it all on the clothesline
I think how times have changed and love how
Three generations meet every laundry day
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on May 18, 2020 for contest BRIAN'S CHOICE K sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
Originally posted on March 27, 2018
Categories:
wringer, appreciation, grandmother, mom, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse