Short Laundry Basket Poems
Short Laundry Basket Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Laundry Basket by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Laundry Basket by length and keyword.
Coming up the steps
Large laundry basket filled with
Clean clothes worn by all
I notice my heart rhythm
And wonder if this the last
Written: March 1, 2023
Where do socks go
When the washer stops?
Where do they go
When the washer stops?
Through the laundry mist
They escape
One goes astray
And another lays motionless
In the laundry basket
Where do socks go
When the washer stop?
The Stairway
The stairway is long and dark.
We climb one step at a time.
Trying to reach the light above.
Each step takes you closer.
But it's a trip.
You get to the top and reach the door.
Then you remember that you forgot the laundry basket on the floor.
Laundry Room
The central activity in
the laundry room isn’t the action of
washing and
drying my tatty, smelly clothes, it’s
the Daily Redback Spider Race.
Also, the laundry basket leaks
gas. The linen cabinet doors in
the laundry sometimes turn the
dazzling colour of a
butterfly.
First basketballs were discarded peach baskets
With their full bottoms in them
Soccer balls were used
Officials had this dubious job
Had to climb a ladder to remove the ball
After each basket
Figured a woman with a laundry basket
With a big hole in the bottom
Was the first one to think of tearing the bottom out of peach baskets
I got a splinter from the
Laundry basket made of straw.
I banged into the stepstool
So my shin is red and raw.
I knocked a chair right over
And it fell onto my toe.
Another one’s still injured
So I’ve only eight to go.
These wounds are all the products
Of my sad attempt to clean
Which is obviously, not to me,
A part of my routine.
The laundry basket filled with clothes
Stares at me from its place
Resting in hall like many foes
No one tries to win race
Or win prize for folding laundry
Remembering when teen
How anxiously wanted to be
Grown about this very keen
Gullible, naive was this girl
Now the laundry sit waits
By the basement door as if pearl
A pearl of a prize mates
My laundry basket’s tall and round,
Of wicker or rattan.
We’ve had it since some years before
Our children’s lives began.
It sits beneath the windowsill,
Its cover in its place
And patiently accepts our clothes
‘Til it is out of space.
The sheet and towels, socks and shirts
And pants all end up there –
The spectrum of apparel
That my spouse and I do wear.
When wash day comes, just once a week,
The basket takes a rest
Until it’s time for one of us,
Again, to get undressed.
The smallest room in the house,
Phew what a smell,
It smells so bad,
It's my lads,
Replace toilet roll,
End of the day it's used,
Do they eat it?????
It's my lads,
Hairs fill the plughole,
But are they from the head !!!! Or!!! Yuk,
Shampoo bottle empty again,
It's my lads,
Wet towels on the floor,
There are 4.... only two lads,
Have I got any dry left,
It's my lads,
Dirty clothes thrown in the corner,
Missing the laundry basket,
They won't pick them up,
It's my lads.