Mop Up Poems - Poems about Mop Up

No man can ever understand, There's Spring Cleaning across this land, Miss Mop and Clean waves her hand, Snoring is his male band, Not to worry, no time to sup, Gals want to sparkle up, One shelf at a time, Spray and Wipe sublime, Fresh is the cupboard smell, Charity bags cast their spell, All tidy now, so it seems, Polished the dog, he gleams, Must detox...

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A New Invasion February 7, 1964 Who can ever forget It was D-Day in reverse A major landing at JFK America was taken by storm Screaming fans had to be held back Four young mop tops started an invasion ...

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Barbershops all closed, a Covid nonessential. ...

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Clip it Mop it Loved Gallagher’s Pocket Inside ready to hide …. Lucy’s Locket Clip it Mop it was the bad sort of bloke Bullying others said it was a joke. Strip it Clock it and I had had enough We thumped CM, decided to get tough Clip it Mop it ran to get Boomerang They came back with silly jangly clang...

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Willy's hair looked like a ragged old mop His loving wife told him, 'Go get it cropped!' He sat down in the chair Yawned, 'I've got hair to spare' Willy woke up with a shiny bald top...

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If wet get. Set Not a dream Got to be clean Or could slip and bop So shop and stop As you go It Floor And mop!...

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Do you wish you could stop your grass from growing so fast? Use Glop and Mow and you’ll be mowing just once every SIX WEEKS. AND your grass will be greener and more beautiful than ever. Just wait and see. Okay! Use your garden sprayer. Pour in our miracle maker— one quart—plus one pint of water--per half acre. Mix thoroughly. Spray...

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The aftermath - J.F Baker You are the bucket to my mop The twisting rope that whips the water awakening a bucket My two hands wrap themselves around you, one above the other Gripping firmly the silver pole I look up to see your blue cap and I am ready. Ready for all that you are capable of, all...

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Young Jesi Naomi channeling Trish Roland incarnate professedly. Hour: you dead now? Tuba bongo blues like a freight train serenade in the American night. You slammed life against the wall, slammed it. Drank it down with booze stained splinters and mop handle blues. Guitar licks and microphone screams, taste like swill and Lysol. If nausea Permeates your pours,...

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I am scrubbing the floor at 3 am with every swipe I think your name once held so dear The floor now shiny and clean muck and mire all washed away dawns pale light contrasts what swirls in the mop bucket of my mind... dirty thoughts snarling biting clinking tapping cluttered stairs tripping falling edge of night blocked out Sun fighting light erase unwanted tumbled jumbled spit stained...

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mop head hydrangeas clumps of glorious splendor soaking up the sun....

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Know Love Lord...

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Mop Woman Near dwarf this woman. Foreign born. Minsk, perhaps. Nose a fist. Hair a whisk broom only black. Her back an Orthodox cupola, her arms braids of gym rope lowered to the floor. Orangutans could climb those ropes, hand over hand, no rose no purple doughnuts on their hinds. Near dwarf this woman. Foreign born. Minsk, perhaps. Her hands, all gristle, hang an inch, no more, above her...

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i clean dirt after dirt from gunshot wounds which left puddles of blood where my homeboys was hurt come and lerk to infant rooms where diapers were found on the ground smudge... i can change your smirk come with me to stair ways where grim don't budge but i bet for a dime you can find someone to call up... i clean up...

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