Clothesline Poems - Poems about Clothesline

Clothesline of Joy

At the end of another summer day
Rainbow of deflated asses crotches and breasts strung along our deck railing
Flail like a Tibetan prayer flag
Under the smoky umbrella of burgers and brats
Grilling for dinner

Souls adrift from their left behind soaked skin
The sleeves and pantlegs re-begin

Arms and legs jog in place
In the cool lungs of a dry evening

Plough Share the Alto

she admitted to being a moron
                                 only when it came to her
           

Clothesline of Life

our extended clothes
         so many stories hanging
           on  clothesline of life

Clothesline

cobweb clothesline
sock flapping in wind—
red oak leaf

11/7/2021

The Clothesline

The one who has been cleansed and purified
Is like a washed dress now sans grime and dirt;
Yet it has been stained once again inside,
As the smudge of wrong shows no joy and mirth;
Because the cord used is not firmly tied,
The garment falls down on this dusty earth.
The strong and steadfast man will overcome
The world’s enticement

Clothesline

The house where I grew up
Came with a clothesline in the back,
A dryer being something that
Most homes those days did lack.

I learned to hang the towels,
Overlapping just a bit,
Since by doing so, more laundry
On the line would get to fit.

I visualize my mom,
With wooden clothespins firmly gripped
In her mouth, despite the fact
With clothespin bag she

Hanging Wash

Wind
sends out
a clever 
breeze, who finds us
at our schoolwork, near Mother's hanging wash

Snapping back the corners of clean white sheets,
it tumbles off
to tell her
what we
know

Polite Ghosts On a Clothesline

Polite ghosts pinned on a clothesline,
Dancing daintily in the breeze.
Using please and thank you
Practicing manners with much ease

Respecting each other’s ideas
Without a bully or a tease,
They plan their class reunion,
Putting their scariness on freeze

On the Clothesline of Poems

On the clothesline of the night,
I extend my ideas
while sleeping ...
In the morning clothesline,
I collect the best
words and dress myself
of enthusiasm and
poetry...

 II
The words
extended on the clothesline,
expect me to
collect them to dress me
of fantasy...
Anxious words
tanned in the sun of
fragrant morning
wish to stroll
in a poem by
spring...

  III
I ask the sun that
warm mine
clothesline words,
while 
I meditate

Cora's Clothesline

What softness in silence amidst the cacophony of a spin cycle world war.
Lying next to your glow in sleep's stillness, careful of your bandaged hand.
Watching your breath enter and leave, the rise and fall of such loveliness.,
reminded of our miracle wings as they unfolded in the evening heat.

Was it only yesterday..,I walked the River road

Clothesline View of Brooklyn

Window viewing a wall
knows no world other than
brick square against nothing;
laundry blows in the yellow
tinged wind. Flaps mimic
birds flying. Bras trapped by 
wooden pins, splintering. Grey 
points piercing smoldering
dust and fiber on its way
to the refuse below. A push 
from an unseen hot whisper
of foul breath smashes it
into a window viewing a wall.

60's Clothesline Magic

wind dry
in the sun
clothesline magic
pinned in happy delight
fresh smell

wet blouse
waves gaily
clothesline magic
brave flipping and flopping
wind blown

denium
Heavy jeans
extra pinning
bogging down the wire
bending

clothes line
nostalgia
backyard neighbor
moms pinning together
60’s

The Clothesline

Aha! At last! I've found the thing
That understands my suffering
A place of freedom from those I love
And the tyranny of the One above

It doesn't look like much, you say?
Well then, look again, I pray!
Have you ever seen more el'gant wood?
I doubt you have, for no one could!

And look at how these strings are taut
Exactly the

The Clothesline

Two metal T's with wire line in-between
a place to hang washed clothes that you cleaned
Wooden clothespin to pinch and hold
even unmentionables to the world you showed
The sunny sun and warm wind
would in no time dry all of them
Sheets and shirts smelled like spring
fresh and bright was everything
Hanging blankets across all lines
became tents and shade during

Clothesline

I’m sure my mother’s punishing
The clothes that she hangs there
I don’t know the crime they commit
But I can’t help but stare 

At clothes flapping in the warm wind
Treacherously secure
To a wire stretched thin from two poles
For some purpose impure

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