Carbolic Poems - Poems about Carbolic

...The ringing of the morning bell tells all that the day of discipline now descends. Chaotic playground sounds then start to quell. Shouts and screams soften and slow. Raspy sounds, sharp points, ......Read the rest...

...I sniff at my hands and oh! Such scent, such ecstasy, a memory presented to my nose. But where do we find this block of adorable redness? It was sold in every shop: lovable carbolic soap, an a......Read the rest...

...We were always a little ash white, the girls always a bit cleaner; the soap always green carbolic the toilet paper always slick and hard to scrunch, six year old bottoms always a little sore. ......Read the rest...

...A flannel-washed-out school. Unsullied nuns in a sullen line. Again hearing the quacking of ducks as new brown leathers shoes stepped and skipped, though skipping was a serious offense behind......Read the rest...

...You came to give me a slap, your arm bent back, with the back of your hand poised to 'shut my trap.' I stood to rebuff you with anger, and schoolboy indignation. How dare you bring reproach when ......Read the rest...

...Blameforth forwented, sithering Scunderblast thisk thisk away! Harforsless, zoit, thundersnatched, Norbutting thuz, implude display . Bewardled mishings, long tidalfines Jalaquoone in boodle t......Read the rest...

...( Coming home from the mill. ) Air full of smog from dirty factory chimney people walking around square quite nimbly, grey clouds above small terraces workers abodes typical northern to......Read the rest...

...The clown Circuit circuits moving round in circles swings and roundabouts junctions dead ends living closures and beginnings The fool wise man woman child in all posits mocks understan......Read the rest...

...by Robert(Bob)Moore © 2016 Do you remember Dolly Blue, Carbolic soap and brownstone too mam at the copper, stick in hand to stir the clothes, so they’d look grand squeeze out the water, thr......Read the rest...

...The wind smells of frozen milk and carbolic, this is the edge of December; a slopping out of leaves and burnt wood, the overspew of ovens that keeps us holding our coats at the throat. The......Read the rest...

...My Grandma smelt of peppermints. Her kitchen of boiling bacon, and margarine - it was always steamy and 'welcomingly' warm. The bathroom, off the kitchen, smelt of carbolic soap, and a la......Read the rest...