Chore Poems - Poems about Chore

One, two, what to do? Three, four, mop the floor. Five, six, play no tricks Seven, eight, make it great Nine, ten, now and then, Eleven, twelve, help her shelve Thirteen,...

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I live in a "Mean Peoplez Zone" soou leave me alone: I'll introduce to you to my dad Miezzer. So stringy is he and I'll let you see: he's so cheap he waits for clothes to go on sale at goodwill. he told a story of aman who used a elk, deer and moose to stem cell meat for cheep. They only asked me was it...

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Ah- Uh! Wha: wha! She creid outloud. A hidious sound for a Mezzo-soprano to make. I covered my ears as she creid at the dissapointment of not being the leading Malo. I told her the role was for a malo. She wrote me a letter asking me to rewrite the lead. Bah! I spoke to her to re allow her to be coherent. She called me days...

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• Had a bite of a sweet pear • Once or twice opened the door • Played a game of solitaire • Wiped the floor • Logged to Facebook in and out • Opened TV, checked the score • Stole a sip of the Milk Stout • Coughed, wiped the floor • Did I call mom once or twice • Had to wash, such...

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Cooking is not a simple chore In a closed up world of a woman From purchasing, preparation,cooking To cleaning up A one-man-job But ask for food varieties Boiling,baking,steaming,roasting Frying,pickling,seasoning,decorating And a nutritional balancing All are not that simple To please Not only the tongue Choosy is the food Choosy is the work performance Choosy is the input Choosy is the output The so called an outstanding task Of...

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He wanted to rest. She wanted to pester. His eyes closed. She yelled “Lester!” The garage door needs fixing, she began to fester. He was getting tired of his wife, Old Ester. Can I please have a tiny bit of peace? She asked if he had yet signed the lease. He was exhausted from an eight-hour day. She wanted him to work;...

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What nights speak thee mine That the sun warms the atmosphere of our togetherness That your beauty seduces me and your warm cultured manner invites my battered soul What words of concernment speaks the woman The Red Tornado has been in control Damnest thee that nature hast consumed what was What is to be is Of these consumed men that that nature hast take Rd control. Good times and bad this ground...

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I woke up at 6 But it really was 5; Now it’s 5 But it really is 4. Every time that we change All the clocks, I know I’ve Been confused By this twice-a-year chore. It was dark when I woke; Now it’s still very light And might be When I’m ready for bed. Yet I follow the rules Though I know that I might Never get this All...

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Gershon was chastising Seth For being unfaithful to Beth As high as a kite Seth swore he'd do right And his wife was tickled to death!...

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Another Springtime Chore By Franklin Price 03/08/2022 I wrote of springtime yesterday Of the flowers, birds and bees And of the leaves and blossoms On the bushes and the trees Of the gardening and raking That is needed out of doors Not the things, I may be buying At the Lowes and Walmart stores This morning when I woke up And my bare feet hit the...

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Self-suppression Of feasting and drinking beyond the road. Conflicts and dissonance over the load Trembling in the face of the tide, of youth age Thoughts altogether are the sign of the rage Prisoner of desire in a locked cage. What if one claims to be a sage? Fails among the average, but blurry beige It's the act of dedicating oneself to a...

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One, two What to do; Three, four Mop the floor; Five, six Play no tricks; Seven, eight Make it great; Nine, ten Now and then; Eleven, twelve On the shelve; Thirteen, fourteen And in between; Fifteen, sixteen Sweep and clean; Seventeen, eighteen As always been; Nineteen, twenty Clear and empty. ~10/08/21 ~Contest: Nursery Rhyme ~Sponsor: Eve Roper...

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In the beginning was the bird Shortly thereafter dropped a turd It fell in Eve's hair She roared like a bear But Soup Censors heard the F-word...

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Overgrowths of arm-post life Lift upward as my steam-breath Vanishes thinly into the sky Cool sweat drips deliberately As the stacks grow larger And the sawdust smells and sticks The wagon-load will wallow obediently As the frost bites cleanly Through the still winter dusk Ash white smoke curls softly From the cut-stone chimney Where a portrait of simplicity Sleeps eternally in my mind ...

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Mom and baby, in the rain; Arms hold babe and dog on chain. No umbrella – getting wet; Not a one appears to fret. Walk to corner – garbage pail Plus a box to drop the mail. Mama hands her tot a bag, Small enough for babe to snag. Then I realize what’s inside – Poo their doggie has supplied. Baby holds it gingerly Then...

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