Love in Cycles
He entered past this wooden door
In a launderette without his wife
To view all patrons feminine
To have a chat perchance to score
To his surprise no one was here
He kneeled and placed hs dirty clothes
In a washer that he always used
Turned it on and took his seat
He saw her when he was on RINSE
She walked in tall and willowy
The launderette emitted heat
A basket full upon her head
He gazed with awe and then he said
Why not use your hands instead
I ward off demons with my hands
And I see demons in your eyes
She said to me with a sultry laugh
I looked up as she dwarfed my size
She placed the basket on the floor
He walked to her and grabbed her waist
His hormones raging with such haste
He heard the cycle go to SPIN
And DELICATE she held his cheeks
His hands were more like PERMANENT PRESS
The tempo of the washer hummed
Their foreplay reached a screeching halt
Pause
He woke up in his usual chair
He looked and saw no one was here
Any Poem Written in March
Sponsored by Laura Loo
April 9, 2017
Written March 25, 2017
Categories:
permanent press, humor,
Form: Free verse
I am sitting here waiting to smile, I'm dress up in style
I love when it's picture day, there's lots of toys and candy
My Mom told me "don't fidget around, just sit still and smile"
After this final take, theres more pictures with my family
Mom bought me this dress, I think it really was the prettiest
I saw one with big blue bows, but my Mom always knows
"Because it's permanent press and made for a princess"
He forgot to say smile, but what do you think of my pose?
Categories:
permanent press, happiness, life, mom, me,
Form: Rhyme
Life in the house is pretty easy these days,
what with washers, vacuams, fridges, and microwaves.
My poor old mum had none of those,
just the old fashoined copper, and scrubbing board, to wash our clothes.
No mains water, or power,
so of course, there was no shower.
Meat safe hanging in the tree outside,
giant blowflies, committing suicide.
Baking a cake was quite a feat,
for the wood stove had to be kept at a constant heat.
At night the kerosine lamp was lit,
for a nighttime visit to the bog outside, one required a candle for a sit.
Hot water cylinder rumbling away,
meant the wood stove had been going all day.
The old flat iron, for ironing clothes,
permanent press, there were none of those.
I know exactly what my old mum would say,
if she saw the gadgets we have in our homes today.
Holy Cow.
Categories:
permanent press, life, old, old, mum,
Form: Blank verse
Life in the house is pretty easy these days,
what with washers, vacuams, fridges, and microwaves.
My poor old mum had none of those,
just the old fashoined copper, and scrubbing board, to wash our clothes.
No mains water, or power,
so of course, there was no shower.
Meat safe hanging in the tree outside,
giant blowflies, committing suicide.
Baking a cake was quite a feat,
for the wood stove had to be kept at a constant heat.
At night the kerosine lamp was lit,
for a nighttime visit to the bog outside, one required a candle for a sit.
Hot water cylinder rumbling away,
meant the wood stove had been going all day.
The old flat iron, for ironing clothes,
permanent press, there were none of those.
I know exactly what my old mum would say,
if she saw the gadgets we have in our homes today.
Holy Cow.
Categories:
permanent press, mother, old, old, mum,
Form: Narrative