Laundry Poems - Poems about Laundry

tuesday morning laundry . he had waded out into the waters del mar in the morning was quiet and he certainly was not on the sea of galilee . he had a pole in his hand and stood quietly still before the lapping sea ankle deep, just enough that i could see he wasn’t standing on top of the waves . the rising morning sun cast...

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I’m standing in the common room, turning in circles. I’ve so many things to do, all at once, I can’t figure out which way to jump. A time management problem, I suppose, maybe I should have taken that 1 credit ‘project management’ class I sloughed off. We live and we learn. Leong was sitting, leg crossed on...

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Laundry Room The central activity in the laundry room isn’t the action of washing and drying my tatty, smelly clothes, it’s the Daily Redback Spider Race. The laundry basket leaks gas. The linen cabinet doors in the laundry sometimes turn the dazzling colour of a butterfly. ...

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You seem a bit too Monday for someone who used to sway with much colour Wake, my dear, the day awaits, And with it comes white shirts the colour of mud and black jeans the colour of white shirts for you to wring and squeeze and wring – it’s a Saturday Pick your shoulders up from the floor, square them to the...

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acid washed blue jeans hang on the rusty clothesline in the morning sun ...

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A scrubbing time's piece From dark cloth and pillow hugs, Well manners bleached on Smudge, gone moments by light that A blotchy face remembers. ...

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wet laundry hanging on the line in the garden - - he sips a cool beer...

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Feeling if you see Drab laundry, you already Get tired and feel sick....

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In the drawer, a pair did reside, Same color, same stripes, side by side. They danced and they walked, Till one vanished, no trace to abide. To the washer, they went, hand in hand, To rid themselves of dirt and sweat so grand. But alas, in the dryer, One sock was a crier, For its partner, it searched every strand. Weeks passed, and the...

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Dirty.......Dirty to fall wash with strong soap beaten with a bat water with water rinse away finally shakes with both hands weary and weary tired families laundry in the calm sunlight droopy take an afternoon nap place to enjoy wavering clothes line by full of mother laughters swing dancing....

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The kitchen's disinfected, the worktops squeaky clean, The laundry's in the wardrobe and nothing's left in the machine. The crockery is washed and dry, it's stacked in cupboards, looking neat. There's just one nagging problem, I've got nothing left to eat!...

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It’s Sunday morning, about 8am. My BF Peter and I we’re doing our laundry. Most of the time, we spent in my dorm common room, sitting side by side on a red corduroy couch, while our clothes washed, and then tumbled away in the dryer. If you want privacy on a college campus, or to...

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'Dirty Laundry!' Tell me why hearts compose when all poems are born in a world full of wastrels (where weakest get slain?) There are bloodstains besmirching blank sheets we would use for bleached pulp comes from trees that won't filter man's air till seed's twigs grow again to tall trees like forebears and engender soft rains that won't wash soil...

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angry thoughts sad and sour laundry day which is clean which is not no matter it will come out in the wash cycle NB: Other form – Tricube: 3x3x3, 3 syllables per line, 3 stanzas; inspired by, but not entered in, Sara Kendrick's Tricube Poetry Contest...

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She measures his time With the soft sounds of the machines, The whirr, The small thumps, The humming. Her husband Sleeps in their darkened room Just down the hall Room 217 From my mother’s, Room 221. Before- Her five-bedroom And all the kids The big laundry room Where she spent Hours with the scents And touches Fluffing, folding Carefully into piles- Like she does now But with one small load Over and over Watching and guarding Carefully keeping...

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