Dry Cleaned Poems | Examples


Premium Member Velvet

Do not be quick to cut velvet
It costs a hundred dollars a yard now
All the pieces must be pinned in the same direction
There is waste, but your efforts will be rewarded.
You do not want to construct a catastrophe
Do not put velvet in the washing machine either
She must be dry-cleaned
Velvet must be heeded and revered.

I Read a Poem Then Thought About It a Lot

 after Dilly Dally

She bought a button
to be pinned on vintage dresses
to be placed back on the lacquered shelf
after another day at the gallery:
getting lost in brushstrokes
of light and shadow,
transported like an Echo
reverberating on gilded frames

It's been sixty years
and the vintage dress has been
dry cleaned and packed away
The button lost to time,
yet small circular visions bounce
back into my head
like Echoes
Form: Ekphrasis


Premium Member Apologizing For the Crazy Quilt

I have made the weirdest quilt, the woman apologized to me.
It is bits of scraps of every color, you might not even like it.
I had seen a lot of quilts that I do not like. They are too symmetrical.
Too straight. Too circular Too placidly placed. Too perfect.

I did not get my hopes up, because she kept apologizing.
As if it was not good, worse, as if no one would want it.
I reluctantly followed her home from church to see the travesty.
It was the prettiest quilt I have ever seen – full of all kinds of delights.

Every color, pattern, hue, and texture imaginable was in this quilt.
It may have to be dry-cleaned, she apologized. I added velvet.
She surely did and satin and all kinds of other marvelous textures.
I love it more than I have ever loved another quilt I told her.

I was not exaggerating. I have it to this day, it is my favorite quilt.
I hope she is not still apologizing to the angels in heaven.
Wishing her self confidence and the knowledge that she is super special.
And she gave me exactly the right gift.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Hand Me Polyester Please

Satin makes people look corpulent and shiny.
Silk is my material of choice.
Except it has to be dry-cleaned.
And it is never the same after a grease spot.
Hand me that polyester pantsuit please.
And a bib.

Elves Insight To Christmas

T'was the night before Christmas
all through Santa's workshop.
All of the elves are busier
than a New York city cop.

Teddy bears, dolls, cars and trains
Hoops, bats, balls and planes.
Elves finish up last minute toys
for all of the little girls and boys.

Elves had Santa's big red suit
nice and sparkly dry cleaned
they washed and waxed 
the sleigh till it gleamed.

Elves fed all of the reindeer 
put them in for a good nights rest
For They needed to be ready 
to fly on a 24 hour quest.

For they need to get Santa
with his bags full of toys
around the whole world
to all little girls and boys

The elves have lots to do
such an incredible feat.
Always happy they never complain
At the end of each year they repeat.

Remember it's the elves
that make possible Santa's flight.
It;s the elves who are making your
Christmas morning just right

So I give to you some 
Elves Christmas insight!
Merry Christmas to all 
and to all a good night!
Form: Rhyme


Peter Pan Nightmares On Chatham Avenue

out of sync the wheel
squeaks, too many little 
brown mice with big mice ears
have chewed my bearings

a sunbeam sits on my 
dislocated shoulder
and the cat's in the cradle
sleeping with the whole ball of wax
(what a yarn that is!)

i sharpen my nails and
dig in the posthumous dirt
of my arrival, coming 
undone by the light of the silvery
moon, sprinkles melting on cupcakes
and newlyweds

it's nine yards and an inch, 
hail hail all ye who enter 
my sleep, prepare for Occam's
close shave, reality bites the dust
and then backtracks into ruts
of self-disclosure, counting crows,
mismatched socks, and coins for the
ferryman 

watching
hi-def TV and writing poetry
that fall by the wayside, colours
of flesh and inhibition, the scent of lavender
honeysuckle and ginger blossoms pounding at my door:

wake up you crazy easy fool,
time is ticking and the crocodile is not
far away, your shadow is being dry-cleaned.

When a Bag Talks

I am a bag
I was polished but now I sag
can't I be your next best friend?
though I'm not a soul that can mend
I carry your heavy load
still you don't care me for good
you put inside of me
anything you please
that sometimes I'm suffocated
and cannot breathe
from paper, clothes, and toiletries
why not bring your own house instead?
I have a favor to plead,
just once, listen to my heed
please bathe me in a soapy water
or dry cleaned to protect
my sensitive skin
then I'll be feeling fresh and new
ready to be of service, and on the go!







9.26.08

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