Short Mops Poems

there are ten rain drops
Hundred Baptists to church stops
going and floor mops...

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cloudbursts never stop 
    swollen lakes mimic buckets ~
         and bogs soggy mops...

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guilty as charged

four little boys start a pudding fight guilty sentenced with hose and mops...

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There once was a guy named pete
Who find out there was nothing to eat
So he went to the shop
Bought a dozen mops
But then he forgot the receipt!...

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Little moments; big ideas; grand schemes and flops!
Intimacies shared; secrets held; pennies saved in a box.
Friends laughing; enemies kept close; bills; brooms and Mops.
Every breath a different thing; a rose; a bird; or an Ox!...

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A stored ripening sunlight,
opens veins under wet sods.

We are conveyed on the thaw,
upon the guttering soil
through the squelching narrows
of wayside hedgerows.

Spring mops and sops,
breezes furbish,
unlock a pearly dew
to melt the frosted prints
of paws and claws....

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The book keeper
mops the slush pile,
dusts paragraphs,
adding a vase of clarity
on the table of contents,
creates settings
for the ghost writer
to slow down
run-on sentences,
mends torn sheets -
Oh, tearsheets…
Anyway,
in the end
wraps a nice soft cover
around everything....

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Death comes
End sums
Last psalm


Feel grief
Pain sifts
Be brief


Pain ends
Old trends
Bye friend


Purge dirt
Clay mirth
New birth


Time stops
Space mops
Tear drops


Last gate
Same fate
Too late


Glimpse light
Soul sight
Good night


No tense
No sense
Suspend




Leon Enriquez
24 August 2016
Singapore...

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A crow swallows a 
biscuit piece 
at window 
Mops its mouth 
with mango twigs 

First sunlight 
enters room 
Sketching stripes 
on your neck 

Deep down inside 
A four inches long plant
in a small glass pot 
turning violet _ a rivulet 

No I won't disturb the
sunlight crayons in delight 
Rather let me bring out the 
camera with small aperture...

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grandparents don’t want time out
the music stops from children’s tops
gone are the days they played with toys 
spilled food dropped cleaned up with mops
cuddling in blankets, sews bonding joys.

photos in a scrapbook reviews the past  
grandma & grandpa’s pride hangs on the wall  
sentimental thoughts of blessings to  last
lets have them back when they were small....

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Beautiful and elegant
She mops the kitchen floor
Standing close to an old wooden door

Determined and prepared 
She starts to climb
Up the wall, to the clock, 
so she can have more time

Surprised and startled
She looks so pale
Among seven small people,
all of them male

Sad and depressed 
She begins to cry 
In the small empty room
where her prince said goodbye...

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Lips mops caress waterfalls crash metallic nerve laughing gas confession 
watermelon sugar sister scissors 
clocks tick loud like shaved ambergris 
Laminated kerosene lamps illuminate
Evanescence oblivious presence 
Skull bird knives spike of peachy creamery 
Pentagram ouija board machinery’
Throats chokes, nose pinched in bleached milkshakes. tiny ears buried speechless

Mousetrapped.

I gave it all...

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Little by little
Dazzle greets dazzle


Messy mops messy
Drizzle more drizzle


Crystal by crystal
Dressy meets dressy


Tussle leads tussle
Busy bears busy


Weary finds weary
Dreary as dreary


Greedy finds greedy
Empty as empty


Loiter with loiter
Fester new fester


Ego fills ego
Hollow and hollow


Descend and descend
Intent floods intent




Leon Enriquez
25 September 2014
Singapore...

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Randolph floating about twelve shops,
From the one to the other hops:
Hunter wishing to remain tops
In a brisk business for food crops…

Then, one day, off a guy’s arm chops:
His salesman’s after profit drops;
The blood-smeared walls and floor wife mops
At the speed of light against cops:
The place now worse than ones for shops…

A doting wife crime hides, not stops:
Never towards Justice Gallops.
Prayer that a move by foes flops…...

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I cry,
When I cut and bleed,

I scream,
When soap make suds,

I whimper,
To the sound of flushing toilets,

I thunder,
When my cereals are wet,

I yell,
At seeing a clear drop of water in a mug,

I faint,
In the wettest of weathers,

I curl up in a foetal,
When the janitor mops the floor,

I wish I lived in a desert!
Beside sandy weather,
And have pet vulture,
Picking the best parts of me!
Because my life,
Is not a day at the beach...

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He mows the lawn,
	doesn't every man?
He mops the kitchen,
	a gift of great value.
He shells pecans,
	saves the pith for me.

He roasts peanuts;
	we love peanuts!
He plants blackberries,
	brings them in a bucket.
He builds bird houses,
	cooks his own suet cakes.

He picks wildflowers,
	shows me where they grow.
He makes up our bed,
	most every day.
He bakes banana bread,
	serves it warm, with coffee.

You will notice, I sometimes
	wear a Cheshire grin....

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