Scrub Brush Poems - Poems about Scrub Brush

...My boys got dog poop on their sneakers On their way home after school. Their friends were beside themselves with laughter And the boys were feeling quite the fools. But they were determined to ge......Read the rest...

...THERE as still and quiet as dead. Sleeping...? Yes. The walls had grown used to the scene. The dreams tired of the same actors with different faces. The dead take care of their own. T......Read the rest...

...HEAVENLY CATS cats sizzle with top hats and canes. ties spinning. the feline’s tail held extra high. whiskers whisked clean with scrub-brush tongue. black cats outlined in the astrologica......Read the rest...

...MY SILVER CAPTAIN Oh his lips, at dawn a brandished dark-brown moustache. touché! ~ And when we’d been together as man and wife, for a measure of time, the upper lip ~ a sc......Read the rest...

...I can still feel my finger slide across the chilled glass panes of our kitchen window. The simmering warmth of my grandmother’s stew against the freeze of a cold winter’s morning, gave birth to a fu......Read the rest...

...Winter morning light filters through lace curtains, Reaches down, spills onto the corner kitchen sink, Through east and south facing windows. The glass jar, the scrub brush and pad in plastic butt......Read the rest...

...Little Santa Helpers Santa has outsourced his services to child labourers from Bangladesh they fit zero-sized through chimneys much easier and the leaner they are the be......Read the rest...

...I've been mending fences. It's a long ride down a straight line. You can't do this kind of work unless you have the strength and the spirit to live with solitude. There is nothing out here but scrub ......Read the rest...

...Two majestic lords of the African Savannah, Strike without cautions warning, or roar's announcement. Nomads, prides outcasts, existing on the fringes edge of Survival. Instinct's primal predator......Read the rest...

...The snow drifts to the ground soft as babies breath talcing the bottom of the farmer field. The bows of barren maples brace for the downy white. Heat held in the asphalt melts the first dusting, its......Read the rest...

...The Webb’s my second Mommy and Daddy of the year ; It’s only June Mr. Carver, the social worker rambles on as we pull into the driveway My five year old eyes open wide as I see the giant mansion......Read the rest...