Litter Pickers
There's litter pickers with a mighty touch
Rising early to do the task they love
They do it for free, that is how they are
No asking for payment, each one's a star.
Pickers are out whatever the weather
Getting through a mountain of shoe leather
Always with a beaming smile on their face
They have souls led by beatific grace.
They relish seeing the streets cleanly kept
So folk don't need to watch where their feet step
People often stop them to have a chat
Offering their thanks for clearing the tat.
They'll pick up litter that some folk scatter
Mistakenly thinking it doesn't matter
Doing it for them who have heartfelt pride
Those who find pleasure in being outside.
Without fuss they clear up what's been thrown down
For being litter free the town's renowned
Litter pickers sing happily all day
Merrily picking up along the way.
* * *
19th June 2022
Categories:
pickers, care, devotion, environment,
Form: Rhyme
The old lady passed away
as the elderly will.
Memorial cards arrive belatedly
from places far away.
‘Final Notices’ pile up
on a welcome mat.
Those who knew of her
claimed kinship once removed.
The vacated home picked over
in the measured haste
of part-time mourners.
A heavy recliner disappears
as if a feather upon a morning breeze.
Dainty china rattles in the back
of a fleeing pick-up.
Cushions and drapes buried
into already stuffed trunks.
Dark corvids fly high against the sun,
wait to assist in the clean-up,
their silhouettes reflect justly upon all,
as we run with the spoils.
Categories:
pickers, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Danger for the opihi pickers,
It slides on rocks pounded by waves,
When threatened they stuck as stickers,
Danger for the opihi pickers,
Risk in the sudden surge that one braves,
Waves rise suddenly, breed jitters,
Danger for the opihi pickers,
It slides on rocks pounded by waves.
Date: 08/26/2019
Categories:
pickers, 12th grade, 1st grade,
Form: Triolet
THE APPLE PICKERS
the apple pickers
gathering harvests of breasts
ripe picked easy
Categories:
pickers, sensual,
Form: Haiku
'Twas a cold cold day o'tune,
Fer those pickers down in Boone.
Fiddles brought so had they'd ought,
Newest feathers just store bought,
'Twas a cold cold day a'tune.
Fer those pickers down in Boone,
That wind she whistled well.
A'high up steeple rung that bell,
As sun did set upon those met,
'Twas a cold cold day a'tune.
Those fiddles danced as songs were sung,
Among those there abandon flung.
On a cold cold day a'tune,
Fer those pickers down in Boone.
Oh now banshee wailed her greatest plea,
On that cold cold day a'tune.
While nighthawk sailed his flight o'free,
Fer those pickers down in Boone.
SeaWolf
©
Categories:
pickers, adventureday, day,
Form: Rhyme
Toil
in the
mid-day sun-
still carrying the
can
artist-George Clausen
Categories:
pickers, art, social
Form: Ekphrasis