Long Laundry Poems
Long Laundry Poems. Below are the most popular long Laundry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Laundry poems by poem length and keyword.
He is a failure, my cousin Tee said.
How so?
He had two businesses, neither of them made it.
Yes, he is a loser, Cousin Dexter chimed in.
What were they?
A bakery, and a laundry mat.
So he can bake and do laundry! I said smartly. Sounds like a good catch.
They both laughed.
What does he do now? They did not know, so I found out.
He works at a Wal-mart, I told them. He is the manager.
So I asked them, “instead of a failure, would it be possible that he successfully
Eliminated two careers for one that is working for him now?”
My cousins looked at me.
You are odd, Dexter said. Tee nodded.
I smiled, proud to be odd.
Some days are good for doing chores
But also nice to be outdoors
So I’ve combined some stops in stores
With soaking up some sun.
For days like this, I can’t abide
Too many hours stuck inside.
Instead, with instinct as my guide,
I’m getting so much done.
I bought some flowers in a pot
And posted letters in their slot,
Plus bought a shirt I like a lot,
All on my chore-type run.
And now, with laundry washed and dried
And Swiffered floors, I’m back outside,
For sunny afternoons provide
The chance, which I’ve begun
To watch the river as I write,
The water such a calming sight,
The city bringing me delight,
Like magic it has spun.
Waiting is.
The most random pile of dishrags.
Follicles of hair splitting.
Nothing moving,
Just deep, impatient sensations.
Waiting is someone similar to me.
Dragging around a laundry basket all the time,
And it’s a horrible thing,
All the clothes you tried to donate or toss.
Follicles splitting.
Spit spraying at the blank wall.
The dishrags come to life in a weird way.
Wagging their tails excitedly.
Waiting is…
Dripping, drooping cheeks that were fine an hour ago.
Then they called out my name.
And all those weird associations were weird and made me lonely, yet dreamy.
Waiting always bubbles up to the surface sometime.
For all the others too.
Watching the ships come into the bay
Workers about, gathered on the quay
Alone, I contemplate this here quandary
Was taught never to air your dirty laundry
You must present yourself with poise
Hiding the inner turmoil and noise
The cross I bear, my eternal penance
Always front and center. Always in attendance
It's presence has became familiar and quaint
Comfortable. I admit, I've never been a saint
I'm hard to rattle. I rarely let slip a quiver
But to my surprise, there it was, a shiver
With the ocean breeze wafting like perfume
I'm taken back. Smells of peonies in bloom
Visions of you swarm my brain. So handsome
Glance at the ring you gave. Forever. Platinum
You are what's at risk. These demons I must lose
I've really got to start minding my P's and Q's
When doing laundry in a room
That’s shared by many others,
You can’t pretend no rules apply,
Like if you had your druthers.
You have to note the starting time
And when the cycle ends,
‘Cause someone else upon
Your punctuality depends.
It’s understood by all that if
Your washer or your dryer
Comes to a halt and you’re not there,
Then here’s what will transpire:
A person waiting takes a cart
And fills it with your washing,
Just shoving it this way and that
By flattening or squashing.
The slacker gets what he deserves
And has no cause for kvetching,
For he should know what time his clothes
Are done and up for fetching.
We all goof up from time to time
But here is my advice –
If you ignore communal rules,
Expect to pay the price.
Once we were a matching pair, some days we’d get downbeat
as we both couldn't abide the stench of sweaty cheesy feet!
Our male owner would pop us in the washing machine
with warm soapy suds we’d soon smell fresh and clean
But now my ‘sole mate’ has gone missing and I am bereft
I was worn on the right foot, and he was worn on the left
Our owner removed the washing machine gasket
then checked the tumble drier and laundry basket
Alas my companion is still missing, life just isn’t fair
a single sock is useless, and I’m filled with despair
So my owner’s sock stock has now been depleted
and with my partner gone I’m feeling de-feeted!
What use is one sock, maybe one day I’ll be ‘heeled’
if the sock monster’s secret stash is suddenly revealed!
So for now I am consigned to the back of a drawer
with other odd socks and I'm sure there’ll be lots more!
I have a favor I’d like for you to hug
Listen to this poem before it evaporates
There’s this girl, let’s call her Monday
She's got Cheetah freckles
That make my goosebumps race
Not Inuyasha, but
Her jungle cat growls at me like sit boy
Those sun sprinkles are my decoy
Each honey dot keeps me sticky with coy
Now Tuesday is waiting longer to clock in
And,
Her Dalmatian freckles turn my weakness up
Baby I’m a dog I’m a mutt
My feelings don’t want to hush
She said take your time what’s the rush
There's just something so flawless about us
Learning more has become a must
I'm a good listener trust
I won't make your words blush
Not Inuyasha but
I think I have a crush
She said I’m an artist
Not like a Yorkshire
More like the heart of New York
I’m a medley of Sunday's on Saturday
Fashionista or teddy bear sweats
Looking to hibernate in some lucky man’s arms
Tell me all your dirty laundry
We’ll air it out of the past
I like trips to somewhere new
Or just from the bed to the living room next to you
She’s got banana freckles peeling back my walls
Not Inuyasha but she makes me fall
For her galaxy sand I’d crawl
She responds
I like a man that knows what he wants
Well forget man’s best friend
I’m a mutt and this ain’t smut
But my coat is in the puddle
Laundry is never fully clean
Go ahead and drag me through the mud
She said take your time what’s the rush
I said baby forever goes by faster than you think
If you blink I’ll put a ring on your finger
I’m a different breed
We can be something they’ve never seen
But enough about tomorrow
Can you tell me one more thing
Those cinnamon constellations are invigorating
Response:
I love to dip my French fries in ice cream
That’s so interesting
She be so poodle cute the way
God sprinkled a few more freckles just for me
p.s. Monday's have never looked this good…
the aliens did not come empty handed, they brought their own camper
It had a clothes chute, a laundry room, and an empty clothes hamper
They showed me their kitchen and their tv room, which was amazing.
I turned and saw three more aliens on beds, they were just lazing
They offered me a tv dinner, and I thought what the heck
the meat tasted crunchy, like a brittle turkey neck
there was something that looked a bit like potatoes on the sink
They offered me that too, but it turned my stomach, as it was pink
We had a good time, even though I did not know their language at all
They measured my tummy, and made a note that I was not so very tall
I recognized the numbers, they were similar to those we use here.
They hugged me too hard, making my eyeballs pop and tear.
There have been moments in my life enjoyed
more for the forest than the fallen leaves.
White drops of ink that improbably bleed
right off their journal to rupture the void
no one had known existed ‘til destroyed
by the birth of a daughter her father needs
in such a way that such a need exceeds
all fathomable measurements employed.
The type of moment that tames tedium
and makes it bearable: a mismatched sock
in hand to the sock on foot - every time
worth a grin when the laundry stacks up grim;
the type I once stood on admiring my flock
‘til grey wolves in weeds taught my daughters rhyme.
The daddy was lying on the couch again
Spending all of his hours after work doing nothing
Wifey dear was cleaning, cooking, and doing laundry
What she always does after an eight-hour day of office stuff
The daughter saw, and realized women must be the worker bees
Men get to lie around and do nothing; she felt angry and resentful
Their son saw too, but he did not pick up the socially- weird cues
He began to help his mother – doing laundry, and cooking supper
Daddy never noticed that his wife or son were doing anything
He was zoned in on a TV screen, watching one pattern after another
Not really seeing any of it, just trying to keep out of their way
The daughter resolved never to get married, thanks to this revelation.
She never did, and she never cleaned either.
Her house was a kind of a hoarder’s house,
Daddy refused to come visit, but her mother and brother did.
They usually brought cleaning supplies, which made her laugh.