Long Appliance Poems
Long Appliance Poems. Below are the most popular long Appliance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Appliance poems by poem length and keyword.
(For the Witnesses from Afar)
It started with the morning shows, the coffee and the toast, The routine hum of waking up from coast to distant coast. Then came the interruption, the banner on the screen, The anchor's voice that faltered, the confusion in the scene. We froze in vivid stillness, with the remote in our hand. As a silence flowed through cables to every corner of the land.
Do you remember where you stood when the signal pulled you in? The breakroom where the work stopped, the din that turned to pin-drop, The rolling cart in classrooms where the lesson couldn't win. We gathered round the glowing box, strangers' side by side, in appliance stores and airports, with nowhere left to hide. The miles that lay between us dissolved into the gray, We were a million separate living rooms, watching one distinct day.
And that was the Fracturing-not of glass or steel alone, But of the distance we had kept, the boundaries we had known. We watched the impossible happen, helpless in the glow, But in that helpless watching, a seed began to grow. We reached for phones to dial the ones we hadn't called in years, Connected by the cathode ray and united by our tears.
We saw the dust, we saw the smoke, but looking back we see, The way we held our children close and watched the history. We turned to those beside us, on the sofa or the train, And found a sudden brotherhood within the shock and pain. The screen showed us the horror, but the room showed us the love, Reflected in the teary eyes that looked to skies above.
So remember how we gathered, when the world felt small and tight, Huddled in the flicker of that eerie broadcast light. The signal fracturered normal life, it broke the day apart, But it fused a gentle tether between every beating heart. We were witnesses together, a family in the view, Bound by the screen, but healed by the hope that pulled us through.
When things don't work, I panic
I call the plumber or the mechanic
the electrician, or appliance repairman
without them I would despair, Man.
I can't fix my bike when it blows a tire
To be competent is a dream to which I aspire
But I was born all thumbs, and though I read tomes
When it comes to troubleshooting, I'm no Sherlock Holmes.
So I respect the people who make things work
But I wonder if in our government such people lurk.
Could politicians change a light bulb, fix a car?
splice a broken wire, get my bike to go far?
Could I trust my mayor as a babysitter
Or for that matter, a sweater knitter?
Can a college student clean a dorm?
Are mindless slogans the new norm?
When the power goes out, and it gets cold
Will we find a bill of goods that we've been sold?
Do we use the same criteria to trust an orator
That we do when hiring someone to wallpaper a corridor?
My Dad was told I'd make a good soldier, because I looked strong
My Dad winced and said "Sir, you got that wrong"
Maybe I could be a writer, or maybe wash the floor
Can someone shoe me how to mop? for help I must implore.
With flaming pen
The beast inside me scratches to remove,
Fingers pulsing with my heartbeat growing
What will prove
To quit and quiet or sparkle softly,
In the distant night.
What would it prove to cater to
Such shallowness as one’s delight.
When beasts burst forth exploring every pore.
Scattered scallions
Relinquish the air to moan.
Even the box
Is outside the box
At Heaven’s gate deluxe;
To remove the pitied eye and stand forth naked.
I do hate, I am human, After all.
Who was it again that witnessed the fall?
Well, we all sag weary against the ropes
When each rose uncoiled clings,
The jaded blackbird sings, and
Pie-in-the-sky magpies flap their useless wings.
Look in the mirror at the naked scourge behind you.
Listen to the pounding of the drums of your doom.
There isn’t any room.
Not the slightest wiggling inch
Of breath or sound or excluded pinch;
When we shout Holy Hell,
Holy Haunted Hell, After all.
The messenger in all of us
That wakens a sleeping sickness of liquid pus,
Of bruised and startled semen-egg to mark its choice.
Heavenly Father where the hell is your voice?
Aloud, Aloud, After all.
Meekness protruding from some dark and brooding
Corner of misunderstanding.
Comes the Death; Comes the Light;
Comes the Commanding Voice.
Return once more to the core of all confusion.
Take back the shelter and reign in the smelter
Of Christ’s own blend of defiance.
Be in Death or Life or Hell
On Faith be our reliance.
And in the end of all, after alls,
We find yet another broken appliance.
12/13/20
"Why Is It?"
Times of crisis
The cause of our own destruction, and being lifeless
Is more complex than science
Sometimes it involves an appliance
Sometimes it's considered sacrifices
Often from violence
Or our own devices
Quickly will pay the price quick
And might just die if
You never try to fight it
An ongoing virus
Having an impact on the sinus
With me, don't try to get righteous
Or pious
I'm not one sided
Or biased
I remain silent
Holding a trident
On an island
Among redwood giants
No matter the climate
I spied it
And saw with my eye this
There's too many tyrants
Folks kept calling them "your highness"
Such B.S., never once did I buy it
Always remained quiet
Became friends with pirates
Such knowledge and experience is priceless
Turning on the light switch
Not so blinded or simple minded
Gaining mileage
Shining like a diamond
And still enlightened
Paying no mind or trying to fight the system
We've no proof, of if extra-terrestrial life visits
Why is it?
It's nice and vivid
The world can be quite wicked
At times I find it twisted
You don't have to agree, just don't be blind to it
Why kid?
Don't try to fib
Living a lie, why live it?
Often saw the back of my eyelids
Getting so high, I'm lifted
Mixing alcohol with it, if it already didn't
It's about to hit quick
Was or wasn't predicted
The same can be said for it being scripted
Spirits risen
Despite so much division
A lot of content is encrypted
Continuing the expedition
With ambition
As was written
The truth not fiction
Taking out all competition
Remaining driven
Nearby mechanisms
And organisms
Made my decision
Many schisms
Everyone has opinions
Did or didn't involve criticism
In and out of hell's kitchen
Often I've been conflicted
I don't just sip it
I dive in it
Wasn't always able to fit in
Either I did, or I didn't
I'm different
I listen
Keep my hand hidden
Using wisdom
And vision
To take care of business
From the start to the finish
Yet I'm far too dependent on substances and liquids
It's really sad, I know isn't it (it is)
R emember how
E ffortlessly your
F ather would
R emove his
I cy cold beer before
G ame Time?
E ach can was
R ippling with an
A phrodesiac of
T he fermented grain.
O h, how I still
R emember those
S ips he let me have...
their dryer keeps breaking down
her husband does not understand
neither do the appliance people
they have provided three free service calls
it is as if she wants to go to the laundromat
where are you going now? Her husband asks.
Laundromat, she says with a long-disappointed sigh.
He decides to follow her this time.
When he sees the cushy recliner, he understands.
If you stop breaking the dryer, can I buy you that chair?
She nods
ashamed of her forbidden pleasure
one she was afraid to admit to her husband.
He buys the recliner from the laundromat owner on the spot.
Cheaper than a new dryer.
And he was afraid she would dismantle the washer next.
Satire
Doing Sweeties Chores
7-9-2016
My wif no longer cuts the grass
And goat jus died from eatin glass
Her old string trimmer is most gone
She’s upen left so I’m livin alone
Our washing machine it had no cord
I think she named it MY scrub board
The iron she left had the name of sad
The wurst appliance she’d ever had
I feed the chickens and slop the hog
And at night I sleep with my ole dog
I’m now in bed most nights by dark
I lay and listen to the call of a lark
So now I’m eatin from paper plates
Clipping qupons and hunting rebates
As I hang my washin outside to dry
I think of her leavin and wonder why?
I gave her stuff and promised more
For she’d werk jus like a stevedore
Since she left things are sure rundown
ifen she’d return I’d taker to town
The checkered curtains, and spic and span wood floor, I light a fragrant candle.
And the the creme de la creme…..my red Keuring coffee maker, is always at the ready to please. No percolators, grinding beans, not a need for tea bags.
The water in it is always hot and ready. Plus
a variety of K-Cups that hold the contents of what I wish to make. Any variety of coffee, tea, hot chocolate. Hot cider, too!!
I used to grind beans, or use tea bags, boil water, use a chemex maker. All require time and safety.
Then …use special brushes..to not scratch the maker.
All I do is pop in a K-Cup and in a few seconds, there is my beverage of choice. It’s my favorite appliance.
Gives me time to enjoy life and write poetry, as the rivulets of rain, run down the pane glass windows!
1/5/2023
An appliance has a warranty,
Right there in black and white.
You can get your money back
If it won’t work just right.
And purchasing a car provides
Assurance in two styles –
It’s guaranteed for either months
Or, which comes first, in miles.
The human body does not have
A paper that imparts
The promise of the life imbued
In all its many parts.
So sometimes organs need repair,
Especially with age;
And when such breakdowns happen,
It is very hard to gauge.
Your heart may suddenly decide
It’s thumped its final beat;
Or possibly, your knees get bored
With holding up your feet.
Your retina may think it’s time
For it to just detach;
And maybe hidden cancer cells
Wake up and start to hatch.
Sections of your brain may feel
They’re kind of overloaded.
Liver, kidneys, pancreas
May start to look corroded.
Symptoms warn us, sort of like
That dread check-engine light;
Then we must take action
To bring order back from blight.
Just think of how much easier
And calm our lives would be,
If, with our birth certificates,
We got a warranty!
Ilene Bauer (http://primetimerhyme.blogspot.com)
In the year eighteen hundred and ninety-nine,
a Norwegian was patented for his design.
His name was John Vaaler, and we've great reliance
on his smart invention, a household appliance.
This smart little gizmo is made up of wire,
but power, electricity, doesn't require.
From springy material, an “otherwise shaped hoop,”
John's patent got the American scoop.
It holds things together; it's mostly for pages.
Its uses are endless: a tool for the ages.
In the days when a disk or a CD got stuck,
if you straightened out one, you might have some luck.
The oval-shaped double loop's truly a Gem;
I bet 'round your house you have hundreds of them.
This poem's near ended; I'd best let it slip.
It ought to be obvious: the paper clip.