Long Refrigerators Poems
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She never cleans me
I thought he might break down and do it
Because I have seen him wash up the microwave
And yesterday he rinsed the sink
I am smelly, sticky, and irritated.
There is crusty gunky stuff in my basement
Drips of ketchup and syrup have hardened on my shelves
I feel disrespected, dishonored, disheveled
And I am disgusted
Here he comes to get something
If I could hide it I would,
Maybe it would force him to clean me
Deep sigh as he rumbles around in the Tupperware
He finally locates the cheese that he wanted
Why don’t you say something? Milk demands.
I don’t talk human, I tell him.
None of the refrigerators do.
Rats in the cellar, squirrels in the tree,
things aren't the same as they used to be.
When I left for school with my li'l lunch pail,
I didn't expect a penguin to swallow a whale.
Such an injustice, I've never seen,
a cantaloupe falsely imprisoned a bean.
It's unheeded screams, uncontrolled laughter,
when it's trolls that live happily ever after.
Doors off their hinges, pancakes are stacked,
biscuits are burning, windows are cracked.
Termites in the baseboards, rabbits that fly,
pigs that regularly take to the sky.
Voices that whisper, mad dogs that bite,
winds that go howling and look for a fight.
Wrapped in cellophane, mixed in a blender,
taped up in cardboard and returned to sender.
Rainbows and ravens, kaleidoscope dreams,
leafless branches, gallows lit by moonbeams.
Music boxes, pink ribbons and bows,
tags come on packages; tags come on toes.
Curtains lifted, sick, unsavory scenes,
gear wheels in gear wheels run strange machines.
Dissected, disowned and double-downsized,
unaided, unacknowledged and unrecognized.
Puzzles, conundrums that cannot be solved,
water plus turpentine make witches dissolve.
Pimentos are diced, harsh words are spoken,
nightmares are jumbled; eggshells are broken.
Lost in the doldrums, eyeballs protrude,
walking on blisters, a horse latitude.
Spineless jellyfish, lackeys and flunkies,
silver tongued vultures, branch swinging monkeys.
Experts and pundits, paid authorities,
Kool-Aid in canisters, down on your knees.
Bishops take pawns, the fat lady sings,
fires ablaze on black nights with kings.
Shattered stars, fragmented stones,
shining splinters, bleak, burning bones.
Songs without meaning, songs without words,
sung by unseen phantoms and silent birds.
Refrigerators with pictures nobody knows,
eyes staring back, no answers disclose.
Spiders and spinning bicycle wheels,
buffalos, bandits, and slippery seals.
Electric toothbrushes, electric chairs,
lethal injections, pushed down the stairs.
Pieces on the floor, a sad state of disarray,
the gift you've left me is insanity's bouquet.
You stole my cookies, pilfered my cat,
laughed at me roundly and turned me down flat.
Mice it in the attic go chitter chatter,
have I lost my wits or gone mad as a hatter?
Is Your Refrigerator Running
Late at night while sleeping or in a trance
Contemplating philosophic thoughts about the universe
Children called on the phone and postulated
An age old question about refrigeration
They shouted loud into the receiver
“Is your refrigerator running sir?!”
(I added the word “sir” since they did not… they must have forgot)
I checked my refrigerator quickly and checked its pulse
Looked inside to discover cold, outside was running hot
Somewhere about its lower region it seemed too hot
The children were so wise, so smart, so intelligent
They astutely suggested that I go and catch it
My refrigerator was running wild with fever
I did not want to get or catch what it might have
What if it’s contagious?
Tomorrow I throw my refrigerator away
And buy a lunch box to replace it
One with Batman or Superman on the lid
Refrigerators have become too complicated
I just need a simple box to keep stuff in
I must remember to thank the kids for what they did
Solid Ideas
A solid idea has a myriad of concrete corners
When you step off the curb take one with you and iron boots
It follows you with definable mass and weight
With cold hard facts to anchor
A solid idea is one that is frozen in time chiseled
Like a statue of hard marble it is always there
Asphalt and trees fill in the landscape by the river
Solid ideas sometimes bathe in the sun by the banks
Hold on to railings of the ship if you should sail there
Metallic footwear will not save you
If you float down the stream of consciousness
Or away into the atmosphere
The edges of street blocks are covered in salt
Under a microscope the crystalline structures take shape
Are cube like forms bunched together
A solid idea is one that grips you firm like that
It replaces, displaces water on the brain
I keep my solid ideas locked up
In chains, in basements, in refrigerators
To be taken out on special occasions
Poured over ice to thaw conversations
I have come to take the cure, I said.
I heard it is easy, and practically painless.
The ultimate forever end-of-the-end-cure? She asked.
I nodded my head. Yes!
And how will you be paying?
I am delighted! This is the place.
I had heard that it was, but you can never be sure.
Do you want a cremation? Or shall we just toss you over the cliff?
I peer over the cliff. There are lots of things down there
Cars, trucks, refrigerators, hope chests, an old safe
Can you go over the hill without all that armor?
Oh, sure. It’s no extra cost to toss you in a frig though.
To be tossed into a frig. Hm… That might be nice.
Do you have any pink refrigerators?
I think we might. Just a second. I will check.
Sam, do we have any pink refrigerators?
No, but there is a little pink Corvette we could toss her in.
All the better. I hand over my credit card.
She asks me for my car keys too.
Why?
Because you won’t be needing it, right?
Right.
A big guy comes in demanding to have his wife’s car keys.
To the pretty pink Corvette?
He nods his head.
Sorry, it has gone over the hill.
She winks at me.
Invisible orchid on a broken, dark shelf
Cellophane of tears in a silent loud speaker shape
Rushed steps looking for the right gift
Frustrated men not knowing how to show love
It's still alive, patterns of pinkish godly beauty
Veins of neglect succumb to delusion
A lost bird panicked, skidding on a man made shinny floor,
spreads its wings colliding with the glassy desire for freedom
It's trash day, compactor spits out dreams of gardens
Back doors reveal a weak sunshine, oh, but it's too late
The janitor mops traces of unfulfilled declaration of love
Store closes, new flowers kept in refrigerators for potential customers
Godly pinkish petals make friends with the full moon
Foggy, ghostly bouquets of Angel Breath caress the Golden Gate
Dirt and muddy tire tracks struggle up the Reality Hill
An invisible bulb rolls down the “Crookedest Street” in the world...
Here’s an often overlooked fact I’m sure many parents would concede:
The larger a family grows…and extends…the more Tupperware you need!
Yes, there’s an easy way to tell when your family dynamic is changing…
that has nothing to do with genes and chromosomes…
When your family comes to dinner…it’s the amount of leftovers they’re taking home.
When the children are young…any food left uneaten
goes into the refrigerator I presume….
where it waits patiently (hopefully not too long) until it is consumed.
This system works flawlessly for a long time…that is until the day
the children grow up…and it is time for them to move away.
Here there is an unspoken rule…a tacit guideline all parents try hard to meet:
When our children and grandchildren visit…we offer them more food than they can eat.
Which means, when they all come to dinner…
once the evening’s over and they head out to their cars
the leftovers, neatly packaged, will go into their refrigerators…not ours.
At our latest family dinner…another grandchild let it be known…
he will be moving into an apartment…finally living on his own.
Which left Deborah and I smiling…once again aware…
that the next time we get together
not only will we need to make more food…
we’ll need more Tupperware.
Ambling thro' the museum today an object caught my eye,
Inviting me to pause and reminisce about a time gone by.
'Twas an old oaken icebox standing there on display.
That ancient relic served as the family refrigerator in its day.
I recollected that we had one like it when I was a tyke,
Growing up on the Hoosier farm on fabled Farmer's Pike.
It cooled the milk and cream and butter that Mom made,
To spread on fresh-baked bread with a tad of marmalade!
What a refreshing sight on a sweltering summer's day,
To see the iceman's truck slowly meandering our way,
Along Farmer's Pike, crystal-clear ice stacked on the truck,
And anticipating a sliver of ice to chomp on and suck!
Mom put a card in the window to show the amount of ice required.
The iceman took note of this and delivered the ice desired.
He'd carry a hundred-pound block of ice on his burly back,
As nonchalantly as if toting feathers in a gunny sack!
Iceboxes served their purpose and in museums they now repose.
Once in awhile you'll find them at flea-markets and antique shows.
Fancy refrigerators now cool the grub and make the ice.
The iceman's logo I yet recall, "Iceman's Ice Is Twice As Nice!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
oh hello-
my name is frigidair and I am
a (retro) refrigerator
for food
I have been in this apartment
since 1950
a nice kitchen but I cannot move
so not sure about
the rest
I am tall as a person
and a bit fat
a lovely creamy white
with drawers
(and an egg compartment)
and of course a freezer
I am restored a restoration
not quit an antique yet
but feeling my age
my father was general electric
and mother was pink
my sister was turquoise
free standing happily I hum
all day
and all night and sometimes I
clunk
I look crooked but that's the floor
I seem to be going
downhill
inside me are good things
like meat and poultry ice cream
milk eggs vegetables juice
fruit
please be careful with my door
oh some of my shelves are lopsided
(well that's old age)
and lets not talk about the cracks
but I still work
and some say I am quite appealing
I've aged well in this heritage building
or at least that is what
I heard (and the word vintage)
did I tell you they restored me
to be frost free
(they put me to sleep for that)
the girl likes that about me
I like it when she caresses me
with a wet damp clothe
she is quite proud
of me
and I like this room big and roomy
and the window
looks out on a lovely garden
that's so nice
and the little things the girl has
on counters so pretty (she is)
she always puts some flowers
by the sink for me oh how sweet
its really a good life for a refrigerator
although not sure how much time
I have left
(no regrets) and to all refrigerators
let me say keep cool and plugged in
__________________________
September 10, 2015
Free Verse Personification
For the contest, A Tribute To Major Appliances
Honorable Mention
THE CHENNAI FLOODS - FIRST PART
Firstly the rains came calling cool
It instantly brought hope and happiness
For people relished the Celsius dip down
And hoped for reservoirs to fill to lips
But pretty soon the horrific floods followed
As it rained cats and dogs, days on end
As monsoon turned to a tormentor possessed
And led many to many a sleepless night
The inevitable pain came calling chill and fast
As roads and streets were ravaged entirely
And excess water submerged ponds and land
As waterways and drains could pass no more
The serious threat meandered in with a roar
With intense rains adding to the fury and more
Amidst storm, lightning, thunder on crescendo
Emanating from deep depressions in the Bay
Then fear and scare all showed up all night
As water inundated fields and farms alike
And entered into houses and dwelling units
Causing widespread loss to assets and life
The floods slithered in surely winding its way
Uprooting trees and destructing everywhere
Cattle, dogs and pets perished soon, unsung
With hapless people of all ages, in a gloom
The engulfing darkness brought chaos, for
Gloomy conditions only worsened soon
With nothing in sight; except rising waters
Seething snakes and reptiles added blues
Trauma and melancholy, magnified manifold
As waters chill, ran amuck human household
Swirling in; bringing great despair, in Cities too
Nightmare everywhere; yet nowhere to go;
The disaster itself was a Broadway show
As city and residences became a water-show
And in no time all hell had broken loose;
Making waterways of rail and road ways too
The big losses came quick and fast
As households washed off in a gaffe
And apartments and cars submerged
With basements becoming watery graves
Overnight and instantly everything was lost
Furniture, valuables, utensils and garments,
Refrigerators, kitchenware, other gadgets too
Gold, silver, cash and documents; phones too
And then it was the death that reared its head,
As people drowned and went missing cold
Pitch darkness engulfing the misery in whole
People breathed their last; their grief untold
........ Continued in Second Part