Long Dustpan Poems
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They swept me in a dustpan, not realizing it was me.
That I was sort of missing was noted quickly, by all three,
My mother, who was psychic picked carefully all through the lint,
But I had been so minus-sized, I was covered in debris.
Daddy sensed that I was in there, my body, black and blue.
Because as you have now guessed, he was a little psychic too.
They poured the lint in a plastic bag, with a pin-hole so I could breathe.
If it had not been for my grandma, I would have never been retrieved.
But she woke up in the middle of the night, and began to eat the lint bag,
Thinking it was cotton candy, which frankly always makes me gag,
Listening to Grandma Jo’s powerful dentures chomped me awake,
Gave me the incentive to disentangle myself and make my giant break.
Grandma smiled as she watched me, drag myself out of that white plastic bag.
I too dislike cotton candy, she told me and this batch, truly makes me gag!
fast as a blitzen comet,
this dashing prancer
contra dancer
(i.e. Rudolph nary hoof) didst zip
with cupid ditty toward his vixen wife,
who loosed a suppressed yip
asper one discovering remains of the day
from the donner
(newt the majority) party whip
ping her olive drab camouflage attire,
as if she hapt to be a vip
endlessly congratulating herself
(and bow wowing her ego) bing awarded
the housekeeping seal of approval,
and expected me to tip
her gore gee us Martha Stewart déclassé
snoop doggy dog rendition
as she did slip
agilely (with broom and dustpan in hand) rip
peat head lee uttering
an apropos Mary Poppins quip
booting muck can clear across to Compton
(wherever that might be) pip
pin like a cat on a hot tin roof,
where no cure existed to nip
in the bud at this stage,
and rid thine beloved Narberth bride,
who caught a bout clean destine
feverish frenzy to make house beautiful,
oblivious to beseeching despair,
sans this husband who cried
plaintively imploring divine intervention,
lest extreme heroic measures
need be taken, thus guide
me asap before her blistered hands
rubbed red as tender (vittles) raw hide,
which could find her catatonic, doggone
ill eagle lee flying a boot
like a bat out of hell, and stupefied
hence, this urgent message typed out in a huff
for less severe invasive
experimental treatment truly tried
on this, that, or some other missus so and so
.....please pardon this abrupt end,
plus initial idea wide
lee differing from my initial intent won
during how to write an elegy to mister son
describing, how aye felt enervated with run
hills of beaming solar rays, oh how none
synthetic drug to bathe,
enhance, suffuse away mon
day moody blues,
and now...gotta tend tummy hun!
Wait for it, wait for it, get ready, Men
He’ll round us all up and he won’t rest at ten
Synchronise watches, remember the plan
Keep your resolve for as long as you can
The claw is demonic, the wrongest of wrongs
And it will restrain us with stainless steel prongs
But, Men, don’t lose heart, for salvation resides
In the claws biggest failing: The claw has no sides!
He’s moving in now, Men, so show me your grit
And whatever happens, avoid getting bit!
This is it, Men, let’s deal with this chump
So at my command - for your liberty - jump
Here we go, Guys, a word to the wise
Wait til you see the white of his eyes
I don’t wanna see one of you in a hearse
So just as we planned… disperse, disperse!
Leap for your freedom, avoid the man’s wife
And if you hit linen, roll for your life
The fall when it comes will not hurt you at all
But cover your ears for the man’s gonna ball
Remember that when you are on solid ground
Keep going and take steps to never be found
Disperse far and wide and aim for outside
Or seek out a corner in which you can hide
You’re upstanding fellows and I shall not fake it
For I’ll tell you now, some of us will not make it
I made men of you by treating you mean
For only real men can stand proud when they’re green
But when human beings are crawling around
Sit totally still and don’t make a sound
Should they come close you must maintain your hush
We peas are no match for a dustpan and brush
They scoop me up, I smell so good. Others come, and stand in line. People shifting, impatiently.
They pay money, as cash registers sing happily. Wide pleasing smiles appear when they reach for us.
One starts eating me before she returns to her seat. She sets me on the ground in a stall for a bit.
Picks me up, washes her hands, and dives in again. Her hands are cooler now, but I do not care.
It feels wonderful to be appreciated. My smell has permeated the theater now. Others are running
Toward the cash registers, eager to give their money, so they can begin diving into my relatives.
I hear my brothers and sisters laughing as they happily crack and pop. My dad smells so tasty!
My mother is smacking in delight as someone gulps her down. Ugh! A kernel one says.
I watch him spit my kernel cousin Jake onto the carpet. I feel sad as I watch a dustpan get him.
It would feel terrible, rejected like that. My family is a proud bunch. We are excited that
We are more popular than the stars and shows that brought this crowd here in the first place.
Cinderella thought she had found her Prince Charming,
but arriving at the palace was a bit alarming.
Cinderella found it rather absurd,
how each room had women from all over the world.
Then he gave her a dustpan and sweeping brush,
told her:
"Clean the kitchen and then make sure the toilets flush."
Now Cinders, had just escaped her ugly sisters,
she was a bit fed up of cleaning with blisters.
What ever happened to their 'happily ever after?'
Her dreams of love had turned into a total disaster.
Now there's only so far you can push someone,
all a girl wants is to be free and to have some fun.
There was no way she was going to live in another hell,
gathered all the other women and pleaded:
"Lets rebel."
They all got together with their sticks and brooms,
told Prince Charming he can clean his own rooms!
He spent all day scrubbing the toilets clean -
whilst Cinderella sat on the throne as queen.
The buffet was spread liberally,
All across the floor,
As usual my dogs only want more!
Spoiled animals that they are,
They are dearly loved,
But not too far!
Normally a feast would be,
Turkey, Chicken, canned food,
Or all three!
But as luck would have it,
The food did not end up in a bowl.
But in a heap taller than a tree!
Lift a bag of dog food,
The bottom gave out,
The pups have been cavorting about!
While I with broom and dustpan,
Scoop up the mess,
Bring the buffet to an end!
Running out of ideas?
That is impossible if you have a:
friend
acquaintance
neighbor
co-worker
boss
president
king
queen
TV set
I-pad
I-phone
I-pod
kangaroo
chicken
donkey
toilet paper
monopoly
dictionary
thesaurus
computer
outside
inside
dog
cat
dresser
drum set
sibling
diary
father
mother
siblings
dragon
butterfly
unicorn
dawn
sky
stars
cosmos
moon
nemesis
goldfish
talent
team
plate
fork
spoon
blanket
bed
sun
moon
stars
spiders web
wasp
bathroom
kitchen
holiday
cousins
grandma
grandpa
car
truck
broom
dustpan
plane
bedroom
child
grand child
brain
imagination
love
life
ufo
or
space aliens
The covers were over my head.
It was time for bed.
But still, my fingers twitch a bit.
My computer is brightly lit.
In the corner of my room.
Next to the dustpan and broom.
I was almost ready to sleep.
My computer does a gentle beep.
“When will you write again?
When will you share from within?”
I start to dream a little bit.
But my mind is throwing a fit.
Ideas and plans in the making.
The room starts shaking.
Ok, I suppose I’ll write a poem.
I turn on a song and start to hum.
Then falling asleep too quickly.
Waking up feeling sickly.
Assuming that nothing was completed.
Despite the sleep, feeling depleted.
But I must have written in my sleep.
I see my story and start to weep.
It had been a few months since she passed away.
In fact, three months to this day.
It was the first long sleep in a while.
And finally, a poem came out of my file.
After three months.
I said goodbye more than once.
My computer gathered dust.
While I lost my sense of trust.
I thought it was just a dream…
But it was more it seems…
Dusting the floor,
my broom wrestles
with the cobwebs lingering
from yesterday's sales,
all around the ceramics
the threads poke
in all directions,
I kick the dustpan
and the dirt crystalizes
in midair,
for a moment, it was beautiful.
Sirius, bright as always but
Canopus, closely behind.
The vacant moment
stabilizes,
attuning gravity
for the slightest
second.
The image painted its portrait
onto the walls just as
Starry Night captured Van Gogh.
Unlike brilliant masterminds,
the stars fall as gravity remembers
its role.
The glittering dots flake
over my feet blending
back into the ground,
the straws weak grip lifts
the dirt kicking it back
outside, yet again it forms
high up in the skies blending
with nature as it hides,
slowly it vanishes
as its memory remains
within the dirt, stars form.
Marta’s other pets were jealous and sore
They had been replaced by one she did adore
A stupid pig! Groused the myna bird.
The dragon was angry, but said not a word.
yellow cat waited for her chance to annoy the pig, named Pooh.
She tore up the kitchen and tried to blame him too.
Marta saw through it and gave the cat a dustpan and broom.
You will clean this up and also the dining and living room.
Now the cat was irritated, and tried to complain to the dragon.
He knew better than to get involved, he rode away in a wagon.
His last owner had also fallen in love with a large pink pig.
He decided to live with a new family, Mr. and Mrs. Dig.