Long Cleaned out Poems
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It's my fifth day of unemployment
and I'm going a little bit crazy.
I'd expected to sit around and relax
and in general behave quite lazy.
Day one, I made a scrapbook
and rearranged all my craft totes.
Day two I cleaned out bird cages
and started writing pre-Christmas notes.
Shopping is done and put away.
Outside Christmas lights are shining.
I fear I'm running out of projects
and for my job I am pining.
A second scrapbook has been started,
a nine hundred page book's nearly read.
I've not even made it through week one
so the next five weeks I now dread.
I vowed I'd wait 'til the new year
before looking for another career.
Six weeks off seemed reasonable, at the time,
but my resolve is failing I fear.
These little projects keep me busy.
They keep my mind occupied for awhile.
If I tell you I'm enjoying this holiday,
well now you know , I'm just in denial.
'Twas a week before Christmas
And I've not done my shopping
I was going this morning
But first, my floors needed a mopping
I was going to mop them
But I first had to broom
Then, I waited to sweep them
Till I first cleaned the room
With pots and pans messy
From the cookies I baked
And icing on the counter
Where the cookies were caked
I wanted to run the dishwasher
Before I swept the floor
And I wanted to wipe fingerprints
That were smudged on the door
But I waited to do that
Till I cleaned out my fridge
But I figure I'd wait
Till I ate me a smidge...
Of waffles with butter
All smothered in sugar
But I lost my darn appetite
When I noticed a booger
With all that I've not done
It had messed with my head
Said- "The hell with my shopping...
I'll just go back to bed"
i see with the eyes of my soul,
i love in depth in the same exact way,
we're always fighting ourselves not to look at others in this particular way,
we can't see past mistakes, forgiveness means letting down your guard,
this tiny room we've sheltered inside of us leaves us maimed and scarred,
what if we cleaned out all the baggage, and the resentment and anger
disappeared,
the room wouldn't look tiny and sheltered anymore, the floor is now visibly clear,
we've pushed out the old and made room for the new, and learned a lesson in
the same hand,
the things we didn't let go of are now understood, it was all just a part of god's
plan,
we learn from our hurts but he never garantees we'll ever get hurt again,
but the important process we must get taught through all of this is where it first
began,
to pull from within your spiritual strength, family and friends by u to hold your
hand,
to kiss u and hold u and stay close to your side, and help u to get up when u can't
stand,
i've been through incredible amounts of loss, and the people who were loyal
flocked to my side,
for this is where u find true love in your life, this is where your true friendships lie.
Form:
Trust me
Life will go on without you
Remember when you quit your last job
Cleaned out your cubicle
And the very next day
Others picked up where you left off
Things were done differently
But they got done nonetheless
Life is a lot like that
Except you hope people
Will remember you more fondly
As they pick up where you left off
A bit of foresight will go a long way
To help loved ones and alleviate
The hardship of decisions and fallout
A bit of foresight will go a long way
To leave this world a better place
Bring on change in your own special way
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on May 26, 2020 for contest A WORLD WITHOUT YOU sponsored by JCB BURL - RANKED 3RD
Cleaning House
I sacked up all my loneliness and I boxed up all my sorrow.
I sat it outside on the curb. They’ll pick it up tomorrow.
I took all my heartache and I sat it out there too....
Along with every memory that ever made me feel blue.
I cleaned house all yesterday of things that I don’t need.
No more unforgiveness no envy no more greed.
I took almost everything, that I had lost control.
I cleaned house all yesterday when I cleaned out my soul.
The fears that used to haunt me in everything I did.
I threw it out like trash and cleaned out where it hid.
I found a shadow of a doubt hidden in the night.
Cleaned out every corner and put in a brand new light.
My troubles are not over but my troubles are now few
And when new troubles find me I’m throwing them out too.
So next time you see me and think I don’t have a care.
It’s just without my troubles I’m walking on thin air.
Edwin C Hofert
Plastic in the plastic bin
Aluminum in another
Food scrapes for compost
Paper bound tight
Glass goes where the glass goes
Am I saving the world
Does it make a difference
Am I doing alright
I cleaned out our bedroom
And found a picture of you
The one with that sly smile
Just a picture of you
I know we parted
I know it was right
But why do I know
I'll stare at your picture all night
Is there a way to recycle
A broken heart
Can you salvage
Each memory broken apart
Can I put in a bin
The first time we kissed
Can I tie and bind away
Every dream every hope every wish
Maybe some other lovers
Can find the treasure we had
Maybe they can reuse our love
And make each other glad
Is there a way to recycle
Love gone bad
Such a waste, hard to replace
When happiness turns sad
Recycling recycling
That's what the world needs
Don't throw love away
Reuse it it's okay
For a love that once was strong
If dusted and cleaned
Can shine in new hearts
That's the magic of recycling.
Morse code in my ear…that click-clicking-ticking deep down in my canal, even after I cleaned out my ears; it started after my Mother passed. It never seems to stop for very long. One day, I looked up the long and short clicks…my Lord! It was a message that actually made sense. Translated from Morse, it said; “Mamma, Harry, We watch over you; love you; watch…message; Harry.” Harry was my Mom’s only living brother, his daughter went across after that, in only a few weeks and after gamma surgery for a tumor, co-incidence? Now, years later I hear more frantic click-clicks; I must make note of as many as I can. So frantic are they.
Strange things do occur,
Natural phenomenon,
Often unexplained.
Mysteries unveiled;
Bringing changes to this world;
All life gets warnings.
What type of poetry is best?
If I were to write in a structure
Where all the rules apply
I might be tempted to enter
Some Quatrain type Rubai.
But there are days when I can’t feel
The rules or any type
Of poetry to match my mood
No imagery or hype.
I simply want to write along
With what I’m feeling then
So that my insides get cleaned out
And structure may begin again.
Which way is better? I don’t know
nor do I even care
For any writing from my head
Has much glory and some flair.
So like what you want for now I say
And read whatever you can
For poetry can lighten the heart and soul
Of any aged woman or man.
Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!
Relatives are coming out of my ears.
I am a person who likes solitude, and quiet time,
Not to mention a nap when I have not slept the night before
Thanks to acid reflux, my not-so-best-friend.
I reluctantly take my gifts home, some of them
Are so obscure, I have no idea what they are supposed
To do, or be. I reluctantly throw them all together in a
Heap in my junk closet, which gets cleaned out twice
A decade or so. The closet is packed rather tightly.
I push it all in there, throwing some of the stuff to the top,
Listening to it land somewhere in the middle. Sometimes
I hear a tiny satisfying crackling sound. I wish a fire would
Start in this closet, but it does not.
So I smile imagining my children having to pull it all out and
Figure out what it does or even what it is, after I am gone.
My basset puppy ran off with my essay
She even stole my mail
She cleaned out all the fridge
and wagged her funny tail
She went through all my papers
and threw them on the floor
Oh that crazy basset
She almost broke the door
I did not stop her
I wanted to find out more
And that is when I realized
Her tongue could clean the floor
She brought me so much joy
I really couldn't complain
This crazy basset dog of mine
Put sunshine into my life and kept away the rain
Whenever I was sad
She'd lay her cute head on my lap
She wouldn't eat or move
Until I took a nap
I couldn't believe my eyes
When she ran off with a broom
She skidded all over the tiles
And brought new meaning on to how to clean a room