Couches Poems | Examples

Just Give me Paints and Some Brushes

just give me paints and some brushes, the little girl said.
She had drops and drips all over her face and her head.
Her overalls were saturated with paints in reds and blue.
What else could we do? Asked her mother, what else could we do?

She painted her way through college, covering canvases galore.
Sixteen hundred paintings, and maybe two hundred more.
The paintings were crowding her parents who had no more room.
Can we sell them? Asked her mother, who was on Zoom.

No, the girl said, just burn them, I can make new ones every day.
But her parents could not do this, so they threw furniture away.
They got rid of their couches, chairs, and tables to make room.
“What happened to your house?” asked their daughter on Zoom.

The day a poet didn't die-III: The experiment

Blasphemy, truly—
To treat a poem like lab equipment.
Smearing souls on damp napkins,
scribbling overwrought sorrows.

We are sacred, young lady.
Vessles for disciplined sociopaths and 
occasionally, prophets.
Not therapy couches 
for freshly wrecked teens.

Yet here you are—
dismantling verses 
with the rollerball pen from middle school
and deliberately gothic tragedies.

“I’m figuring it out as I go.”
The audacity.

But fine, if you’d rather,
learn poetry like the ruined—
I guess I can take this blow.

I’ve always been too soft-hearted.

Charlene wants new everything

Charlene has to have everything new
New light fixtures, new carpeting, new furniture
She tosses out six-month-old couches as if they are lice-ridden
I see her dragging things to the dump she had to have two weeks ago
Charlene is never satisfied; she tosses husbands out too.
Or they leave, screaming. We will never know which.

boxes are for burning

We get approximately three boxes a day in deliveries
My husband is the ultimate order-machine
He takes more stuff back than most people order
I am sure UPS knows his name now

These boxes stack up on couches, the back of a bookshelf,
Beds, chairs, tables, and other not-for-boxes-places
When I get tired of them, I burn them in a huge bonfire
I love this part of the boxes the best, thus I encourage these orders.

wise dogs nap

My dogs like to find hidey holes
Putting their backs against couches
Curling themselves into dark corners
Sleeping where they can, when they can
Wiser than most humans

luxurious hotel lobby in 1962

New Orleans’ 1962 ostentatious hotel lobby
extravagant crystal fluted chandeliers
highly polished walnut counter tops
opulent Italian marble floors
plush scarlet velvet cushioned couches
swankly brass and glass décor
luxury never seen after nineteen sixty-two

Couches and Couches

I sat upon couches and couches 
To search for a new one to buy,
Yet each had a negative aspect,
Though my husband gave each one a try.

Some had shapes that I didn’t approve of,
Others colors that had no appeal.
Quite a few were so deep, my legs dangled
And I hated how that made me feel.

We saw fabrics and leathers and pillows,
Most of which I rejected on sight,
But we finally found one, not perfect,
Though much better than merely all right.

Did we buy it? Not yet, but I’m thinking,
For I need time to sit and decide
And my good-natured husband is waiting,
For with what I conclude, he’ll abide.

Sweet Competition between Wives

Mrs. C and Mrs. H. had a little competition
They did not call it that, but their husbands knew.
It was a baking challenge, not featured on TV.
and their men benefited big time from it.

Mrs. C. held a coffee at her house on Tuesdays.
She served scrumptious desserts with whipped cream.
One time there was a pastry with oozing blueberries.
Today her concoction was stacked high with pancakes.

Mrs. H. would ooh and ahh and comment, but secretly seethe.
Her coffees were on Thursdays, and it was difficult to top Mrs. C’s pastries.
The husbands begged to come along, knowing what treat was in store.
On Thursday Mrs. H. served a quintessential peach cobbler.

They have done it again! The men retired to their couches for naps.
The women congratulated each other.
That is two days a week we can do what we want, they agreed.
Loving that they had put their husbands into a diabetic trance of sorts.

But Plumbers Cost So Much

Sump pump is broken
Constant water run
Plumbers cost money
Homeowner is sad
Waits a bit too long

The basement floods
Ruins couches
Bedding thrown out
Salvage nothing

Expensive
Life lesson
Plumber comes

Nasty
Stump pump
Flood

Tornado

wild wind whipping
trees bend and thrash
leaves rudely torn off
gardens trashed

blackening skies
presage the storm
rain drops attack
and hail pellets form

shattering glass
in windows and doors
denting parked cars
as a deluge pours.

dark cloud funnel
from the northwest,
veers as it wanders
at its whim’s behest

sending shingles aloft
people to basements
flooded streets paved
with pieces of casements

bedframes and couches,
bedsheets and books
leaving nothing but rubble
of old neighborhoods


hiding in terror we
hear all the ruckus
and pray the capricious
storm will bend by us.

Couch Potato

Not an Idaho brand
Excess weight demand
Exercise in hesitate
Many people can relate
Body fat
Before and no after fact
The couch being the guest of human weight
For Heaven’s sake
The problem of give and take
Get up from the couch
Some people become a slouch
Exercise is the way to get rid of fab
Physical Fitness tab 
Give the couch a break
If the couch had words, it would be “Get Up”
Start walking
Get that fat off
Stop being lazy
It is just crazy
All the couches banned together, and have stated, this is a couch potato war
We the couches refuse
We are tired being used.

A Glider

On the back porch is a glider;
I can sit on it and glide.
It’s just perfect for relaxing
When I want to be outside.

Don’t confuse it with a rocker,
Though they both cause you to move,
Since a rocking chair takes effort,
Like it’s got something to prove

But the glider keeps on going
Once you’ve given it a start.
There are those, though, who still claim
That they can’t tell the two apart.

For to many, like my husband,
Neither one do they prefer.
When they sit down to relax,
They want no movement to occur.

That’s why stores that feature seating
Have assortments to provide
Chairs and couches that just sit there,
Plus the ones that rock and glide.

Pull-Out Couches

Our apartment has one bedroom
And 900 feet of space,
But that is where our festive meal,
This year, was taking place.

As we cleaned and cooked, preparing
For the dinner and before,
We knew there would be a special treat
For all of us in store.

Both our grandkids would stay over
When our son and wife would leave,
Sharing sleep space on the sofa,
Not too crazy to believe.

While our daughter, too, would join us
On another pull-out couch,
All attesting to their comfort
To which each of them would vouch.

With one bathroom, we all managed;
We had fun and no one griped.
It was wonderful, for sure,
But now they’re home and I am wiped!

Roller Coaster

rolling, shaking my heart in red
out of the blue you're soaked and fed
loving hearts that feed on rails
leaping souls that heed, not wails
eaves of heart-shaped leaves overflowing
reign of adoration outlying
couches or bench seats of hearts that drift
over your body levitate, not sift
a heart rolling over like wave
sauntering caterpillar so brave
tis immortal soul that roar and dwell
easterly winds will blow and tell
rollercoaster of hearts made in heaven, not hell

The Lion of Judah

“Wrong will be right when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrow will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.”
     – Mr. Beaver (The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe)

THE LION OF JUDAH

Majestic mane - wind pets the fur
where no earthling can stroke.
His roar like thunder-blast, no purr -
sacrificed lamb awoke.

Lion couches in paradise -
Fierce and fearless; revered
His life for ours - the purchase price.
Christ rose…and interfered

with mock-lion - serpent unmasked.
Judah’s great paw strikes head
of the venomous snake, as tasked.
Man born, reborn…sin’s dead.

Terror to ears, frenzy of brain -
fearsome to all mortals.
Pleasing to His; drives lost insane.
Each to his own portals.

In end, all will bow at His throne
by roar of His sceptre -
Jesus Christ’s name, no greater known.
His chosen Bride - He rewards her.

3/24/2023
Sponsor: Brian Strand

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