Long Scrubbing Poems
Long Scrubbing Poems. Below are the most popular long Scrubbing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scrubbing poems by poem length and keyword.
I remember as a little girl
On a visit to an aunt’s friends house
I was sitting reading a story book
As quiet as a mouse
I asked to be pardoned
To go to the loo
They were all playing dominoes
So I knew what I must do
I opened up the door
And placed my foot on the first stair
Then I heard someone in a low voice say
“Are you sure that she's all there”?
I felt a tear run down my cheek
I was doing what I ought
Only speaking when I was spoken to
That's what I was taught
When I’d done what I had to do
I went back down the stairs
The domino game was finished
And there were four empty chairs
They were all in the kitchen
Drinking cups of tea
My aunt she turned to me and smiled
And handed a cup to me
She noticed my tear-stained face
And stroked it with her hand
I told her what I’d overheard
She said I was too young to understand
I was insecure throughout my childhood
Never felt like I fitted in
Undernourished because I wouldn't eat
Now I’d just be classed as thin
From the age of five
My time at school was fleeting
Feigning illness to avoid the bullies
And escape another beating
I remember cowering
In the corner of the school yard
Cigarette butts stubbed out on my arms
Left painful, sore and charred
Name-calling and violence
Made me feel inferior
Set upon by bullies
Who thought they were superior
When I became a teenager
Things they got much worse
The bullies were now older
Younger ones they would coerce
To taunt me and lie in wait
And leave me in a battered state
When i got my first job
The bullying it went on
Because my face didn't fit
I was put upon
Got lumbered with the dirty jobs
That no-one else would do
Like swilling down the filthy yard
And scrubbing the outside loo
One afternoon, the manageress
Secretly asked me whether
I would do sexual favours for a delivery man
And I reached the end of my tether
I got my coat and quit the job
Never looking back
I later heard that the manageress
Was found out and got the sack
Now that I am older
No-ones victim will I be
I stand my ground, nobody’s fool
And i am happy being me
Welcome to 5th floor burn unit,
UCSD Medical Center.
This is the sign you pass,
As you enter.
They ask what happened,
How did you get burned?
They do this all with
Care and concern.
On a scale of 1 to 10,
What's your level of pain?
Your cussing, swearing,
You cry and complain.
They take me to a place,
They call wound care.
Nothing here is familiar,
You're not aware.
Wound care is a special place,
Full of pain and narcotics.
Stool softeners, I.V.'s with
Liquid antibiotics.
They scrub the burns with
Soap and water.
It's like leading the lamb
To the slaughter.
The cries and screams,
You can hear down the halls.
They bounce and echo
Off the walls.
You come to a place of awe,
For the angels that work in this place.
The scrubbing of the burns,
You learn to embrace.
This is where you find out,
You have nerves of steel.
There is a method to the magic,
In this place to heal.
Turbo1904
The silence hurt
The empty hours
Aching to be filled
With meaningful activity
With encouraging words
The office abandoned
The empty desks
Unread bookcases
Files to be scrutinised
Would things ever revert?
The hubbub of colleagues
The banter in the corridor
The incidental exchange of ideas
The shared insights on the whiteboard
The feeling of team
A form of family
All a distant memory
Not a worthy competitor
Not a godforsaken war
Not a foreign power
But an infinitesimally small
Invisible enemy
Out of nowhere
Has changed everything
Causing a revolution
In the path of evolution
Economy thwarted
Jobs lost
Education abandoned
Caught us all by surprise
Made us hunker in our homes
Afraid to come out
Hiding behind screens
Hiding behind masks
Scrubbing hands religiously
Avoiding those we hold dear
Each interpreting the guidelines differently
Applying tailored logic
Trust breached
Will life ever return to where it was?
… is a drunkard
Swilling vintage regret,
Tears falling for undared dreams,
Anger spewing over unrequited love.
… is endless replays of yesterdays
With circular insightful wisdom
As likely to reverse life’s ills
As scrubbing dirt off hills.
… is stolen joy in the gloom
Of memory’s moldy greenhouse
Where fancied success blooms, hiding
Mocking hyenas and nightmare roaches.
… is a pustulated soul
Hunkering in a mental bunker
Sniveling nose dripping a green past,
Dreaming victory will roar as thunder.
… is Salvador Dali droop
From the fringes of reality
Or a joy until truth
Flushes it to a cesspool.
~Harridan in a Housecoat~
Four small children sent for care as their mother was taken so ill
No father could they reach for them so they were sent off at someone’s will
In the night taken from their beds, no word spoken, hearts full of dread
Taken to a town far away and not knowing what lay ahead.
A huge housecoat descended down like a crow devouring road kill
At the side stood a henchman, pointed nose, dark hair, and vengeful
Warning words left in theirs ears "be good or else there will be trouble"
“No one wants you now you know, not your parents” she burst that bubble.
The housecoat and the henchman dealt out their ghastly deeds
To three of the children she vented her spleen, her willing helper dealt her needs
The fourth child the baby, she showered with kisses and good food to eat
She bought her clothes and dressed her well, and spoke to her words so sweet.
The three all under the age of six did dread each and every night
When scrubbed with scrubbing brushes, their skin looking red raw and tight.
She had to get the scum off them because they were now in care
It was obvious that no one loved them, that’s why they were there.
Frightened and timid were the three, but the youngest was well looked after
Jealousy did form in the minds of the three - it robbed them of their laughter
The harridan in the housecoat with her willing henchman
Thought up little tortures finding the Achilles’ heels in each child one by one.
The housecoat and the henchman were in for big surprise
When the father sent for the children, she couldn’t believe her eyes
Bribery she tried on the siblings so the children would never tell
But there is not one that would condemn her to her well preached hell.
The housecoat and the henchman a mother and daughter no less
A good churchgoing family with their holy pictures to bless
Evil in their deeds of torture and of mental games
The harridan in the housecoat and the daughter with no name.
© ~GG~ 6/08/2012
Let's take a walk where raindrops dance
beneath the feet, in rainbow hue
Where mirrored worlds, and twin skies meet,
in puddles forming in the street
Our umbrellas opened wide, while other people, scurry by
Forgetting in their rush of day, to see the world is scrubbing clean
We'll stamp our feet to make a splash, while those around us make a dash
With diamonds in the morning light, to quench a tongue in sheer delight
Perhaps the gentle rain is kind enough
to wash away a threadbare heart, a broken dream, from yesterday...
enchanting me to believe within, to entertain my child again
We'll listen to the whispered winds, the sweet refrain of falling rain,
as if we were the child again.
We'll be as one, with earth and sun, and know that rain can be a friend
Let's hold up hands to catch the sky,...our inner child is waiting in the wings
________________________________________________
For Leonora's Contest: "Umbrellas"
Laundering wealthy clothes and other valuables,
baptizing moments and grand white-washed events,
scrubbing dissonant deposits
into healthy places and times,
laundering life with transcendent love.
When we're done sitting in solidarity with Earth's laundry,
it's probably time to start over,
or succumb to our own stinky mess of pseudo-wealth
Therapeutically baptizing body-minds toward resilient health
may require soaking in resonant eco/ego co-awareness,
eco-herent
eco-operative
ecompassioning co-identity.
Clean chi-body clothes cover
and uncover,
discover,
recover would be co-redeemers of healthy mental wealth
rediscovering spiritually naturing systems.
Corporate-sponsored competitive detergents
of urgent LeftHemisphere enculturation
have blinded too many to a more polycultural Received Tradition:
human nature evolved through interdependent mentorships
of caregiving and nurturance and cooperation
between
within
among
inclusive of all Earth's tumbling Tribes
learning natural relationships
in environmental systems
stabilizing through mutual solidarity,
like air with fire,
soil with water.
Too often Left-Brain Dominance
has confused our designer attire and attitudes
facilitator scrubbing functions
mutual mentoring
co-redemptive economic EcoLogical Co-Operative Vocations
with those we have labeled
"Sole Proprietor"
and "Owner" of Nature's Laundry.
These labels tend to come off
during a healthy multicultural stone-washed thrashing
of decompositional analysis.
EgoCentrism,
like traumatic AnthroCentrism,
and its oppressor cousin, RacialElitism,
and MonoCultural SurfaceCleaned Tolerance
fail to wash well
for achieving long-term EcoCentric
PolyCultural
Health-Wealth Optimization Outcomes.
HumanHubris confuses ourselves,
scrubbing down our Beloved EarthHost
as if She were a monopolistically-intended Flea,
resulting in great misfortune
especially for Earth's future grandchildren
drowning in over-populated toxic pain in the everywhere.
They could have been our much Beloved Community,
if we would regenerate this drying out revolution,
permaculturally washing
with Earth's Nature-Balancing
decompositional soap
of ecological intelligence.
I was everything
you desired me to be,
wearing rags,
scrubbing floors
I was slowly erased,
un-mothered
made your whore
When I look
to embrace the sun
I feel my eyes lower
in pure light I feel
my presence shunned,
my steps continue
to graduate to slow
but moving forward
I must to go
if in sleep I forget
to breathe?
please believe
I didn’t want to leave
taking your faces
in the palm
of my hands
with my feet
I'm draw your image
in times sands
my heart once whole
is an abyss of pain,
I am slipping away,
but with each gasp
I'll try to explain,
this husk
made of skin,
is brimming,
overflowing
with life’s sins
You see God
forgot he put me here
he’s not seen me in years
though his presence
"I thought” was near?
over and over I’ve been
pervaded with pain
I've raised my palms
over and over again
I am not done,
though destiny nips
at my heels,
and I'll no longer
be 'nothing'
when in this life
no forever will I feel
Right now
a cigarette stained
moon tilts my sky,
and the firmament
is ripped with stars,
So with this in my mind
I'll end with a sigh...
Your country needs you!
Roll up roll up! we’re going to war,
It’s a noble cause, to be fighting for,
If your a boy, we’ll make you a man,
No rules apply, do anything you can.
Bomb our enemies, back into dust,
Blow up infidel’s, look at their guts,
Burn them alive, we’ll supply the flame,
Don’t ever worry, nobody’s to blame.
Rape the women, bayonet kids,
No ones accountable, is what it is,
Torture’s fine, we turn a blind eye,
Line em against a wall, say bye bye.
Get close to the enemy, hear their shouts,
Move up nearer still, see them inside out,
Prod with a stick, see if they’re alive,
Can’t get enough, when will more will arrive.
Can we obliterate graveyards, claim as our kills,
No problem at all, name it “operation goodwill”
Yes we’ll make a man, of you yet,
Teach them a lesson, never to forget.
What’s that whisper, I hear you say,
Geneva convention! Hush, only child’s play,
Don’t ever forget, God is on our side,
We fight for liberty, nothing here to hide.
Look at the medals, pinned upon your chest,
A real man now, and you belong to the best,
Before you know it, be back with the kin,
Tell them about the enemy, all their vile sin.
Don’t worry about an odd, sleepless night,
Carried out your duty, Goddamned just right,
What about reports, of protests back home,
They’re only cowards, who like a good moan.
But I reek to hell, after scrubbing clean,
That’s just the smell, of a killing machine,
Feel like I’m rotting, and drowning in filth
Snap out of it, or be eaten alive by guilt.
How does this stop, I’m overwhelmed with grief,
Screaming at night, and shake like a leaf,
Look in the mirror, Oh god what have I done,
Keep it together man, it’s ok because we won.
What if we lost, I’d be guilty of war crimes,
That’s the glory of winning, dumb swine,
You trained me to go, and commit bloodshed,
Now like a wounded animal, better off dead.
This wasn’t my fault, just did what you said,
Here’s my last order, put a bullet in your head,
I know it’s tragic, but happens sometimes,
This is a war poem, not a nursery rhyme.
By
David Kavanagh
My life story
I was eighteen years old
In the cold quiet days
We had buried my father
In the few past days
My mother a woke me one morning
And told me things had changed
She talked of my schooling
And said it was challenged
The wings were broken the flight was canceled
“I’m handing you to the world, our battle is lost”
Her voice was deep but her smile was lost
“Luck you have learnt, more than the most
And now that you have learnt, remember the cost”
Few days after, i left her door
And walked all the ways across the plains
Holding the brush, scrubbing the floors
Cursing my life in the field of grains
But i thought if i lived longer someday
I would pour my tears in lines
And now that i have lived up to this day
I hold my pain in musical rhymes’