Short Vacuums Poems

A lack of forward planning raised a question just for me
What kind of numpty vacuums… THEN sets up the Christmas tree?...

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Often I think of time,
collecting clocks
I seldom wind;
hearing chimes where there are none--
like Einstein,
putting ticking space
into vacuums.......

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Killed the gray Neanderthal cartoon
Rubbed him out with an eraser
Brushed bits of him onto floor
Making a little mess
My husband watched me
Pretty disgusted
He is the one
Who vacuums
living
room...

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Silence
Vacuums noise
Stillness
Shelters poise


Stillness
Needs no voice
Silence
Seeds new poise


Unseen
Poise knows choice
Within
A deep poise




Leon Enriquez
25 October 2018
Singapore...

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Broken in circles,
this
spiral
down.

A remnant, 
a relic,
valid.

A black mass,
in vacuums,
incision.

Specimens,
cultured.

Future calling,
sleep,
docile now,
humble.

Humanity.

The expectancy of life.
This pregnancy of hope....

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The trees
extrude themselves
along the low resistance
pathways in the air.
Nature abhores such vacuums and
fills them with wood.
.
The birds who
inhabit the trees
ride sunlight trails,
slip along transparent
tunnels on the surface of wind.
....

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Is there truth without belief,
 facts left on their own

Disconnected from themselves,
answers poorly shown

Can dogma live in vacuums,
when empty of itself

Will formulaic reasoned minds
—conscript what goes unfelt

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2020)...

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In vacuums
You don't assume
a sonic boom
You stay quiet.

My cranium
echoes a hum
that leaves me numb
to your edit.  

4~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
Sponsor: nette onclaud
Contest Name: DESIDERATA (Number 1)
1…” Remember what peace there may be in silence.”
...

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I regret not cleaning my room sooner.
When my mom vacuums,
She cleans around the mess.
And the mess climbs.
This house is a maze.
A maze to my room.
We all have rooms.
I should take pride in my room.
But instead I regret…
Not cleaning sooner…
Until it just became easier…
To pack up and leave....

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I know a woman who vacuums her driveway.
I have eight colors of paint on my hands and arms.
I know a woman whose porch is spotless.
An opossum and family of raccoons live on my front porch.
I know a woman who scrubs her kitchen floor daily.
I took a bath yesterday and I still have eight colors of paint on me....

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You can’t embrace
the moment forever
whose verity 
at essence ungrained

By definition
it must rename itself
once mentioned
decried and disclaimed

What came upon you
to die in place
where vacuums exit
in time and space

Regenerating
from life’s cocoon
and starting over
—Amayasvan moon

(The New Room: December, 2023) 
...

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You can’t
embrace reality
forever

Its tenets
restrict
and constrain

By definition
it renames
itself

Once spoken
to then be
disclaimed

What comes
upon you
the moment laced

Where vacuums
exit
in time and space

Regenerates
from life’s
cocoon

In endless
cycles
—moon to moon

(Dreamsleep: January, 2024) 
...

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A vacuum wanders down the stairs. 
I tell some folk, but no one cares.
It staggers by without a thought.
I contemplate its being… not.

It vanishes, leaves ne’er a clue.
While saying zilch, as vacuums do.

Reflecting back upon the scene,
my eyes were sharp, my mind was keen.
I sensed my heart had not a care,
And then surmised, ‘twas nothing there.
...

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My husband likes to vacuum
(Which is good, since I do not).
The rugs are very clean because
He vacuums quite a lot.

He doesn’t dust or clean the stove
Or scrub the sinks or floor
And changing sheets or washing windows
He would think a bore.

He also cooks, so really, 
As for spouses, he’s the best
But he would be just perfect if
He also did the rest....

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A rooster struts, an eagle soars,
A caterpillar inches;
A dolphin leaps, a panther slinks,
A crab, if bothered, pinches.

A farmer reaps, a tailor sews,
A chef sautés and seasons;
A dentist drills, an artist paints,
All with their private reasons.

My husband vacuums and he cooks
To keep his psyche going,
While I write rhymes so I’ll recall
Which way the wind was blowing....

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My robot brings me six meals a day
We started out with three, but he was sad
He lives to please me in every kind of way
His baking is good, his frying and cooking not bad

Robot makes my bed, he shines my boots and shoes
Eliminates all doubts, makes me laugh, tickles away my blues
He vacuums and dusts, washes dishes and walks the dog
But his snoring is outrageous, so I make him sleep out by the bog...

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The magnitude of ignorance
staggers beyond
the scope of imagining,
a weakening throng

The danger of assumption,
its hard biting edge
empowers deception
shoved over the ledge

The vacuums of denial
we fight to defend
are lost in the moment 
pushed out to the end

This emptiness we carry
and knowledge we fear
footnote our destruction
—as fools shed a tear

(Rosemont College: November, 2021)...

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My shirt is wrinkled – who will see?
No one but my spouse and me
And grandkids, via FaceTime’s screen;
But hey! At least my clothes are clean.

My bed is made, the sink is bare.
It isn’t like I just don’t care,
Though staying in, it’s quite a job
To stop from living like a slob.

My husband vacuums, I wash clothes.
We’re making do, so I suppose
A wrinkled t-shirt’s no big deal – 
My wrinkled face has less appeal!...

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what thunder struck
have
i
less lightnings heart break
storm me through vacuums violations
find me brokenness
tatter me torn
lay me still
plant me
bury me
face
me
do me bettering still
revolving perpetual wheel
onto spinning canary feels
this gas'ing we breathe life
intoxicated throughout it all
intoxicating doubts crawl
breathing deeper to fall
not  breathing at all
returning to dust
what thunder
struck
?...

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hours pass like minutes
sucked up in the vacuums of my thoughts
weaving a mesh of entangled webs
I'm in a far place where you get gently touched by lighting ,never struck
where you're like meadows seduce both the hunter and the prey
where lions go vegetarian
where there's no policing of thoughts
no place to hang faults
suddenly there's no room in the room 
cobwebs weave delicately ,where serenity can't but hug lucidity
tamer hossam...

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Freeze in
The comic tragedy 
Veils of sight
Veils of touch
Veils of motion
Veils of plight
Soul is the sole
Of infinite unity
Wound to one is none
Black hole enveloping 
Vacuums this verse
Snaps this quill
Logic exhausted
Language accosted
Nothingness twisted
Into its shell 
Collapsed to collusion
Erupting diffusion
Equating illusions
Of not being
And being not
Silence is the zero sum
Of answers
On the nature of
Freeze out...

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Summer Heat

What could be colder than the sun
Hell froze below all thermals known
Ice cream burns the tongue
Less than zero, the bitter winds begin
Glaciers form on Florida shores
One snow flake at a time
Hurricanes move in opposite directions
Work just like vacuums
Clears the landscape clean of ice and trees
People on the streets shiver at the thought of heat
Ice turns debris and minds to crystal freezers
Under the cover of summer sun
Delirium sets in...

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The questions are calming,
much to his surprise,
root him into 
deep rock foundation
while answers tip in shallows. 
He knows there will always be 
questions, even while answers 
topple.
.
Last night
he imagined a universe 
furnished with questions, 
where things were 
inverted as small sucking 
vacuums in a space of 
larger, weaker vacuums. 
Was this where 
he might have come from? 
Unknown land, 
unconscious world, did dreams 
flash in and out there?...

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please, give him
your shoes
he would wish for your feet as well -
please, give him
your hat
& you would lose your heart & head as well -
please, give him
your house
he would wish for your wife & life as well -
please, give him
your world
he could demand to be your god as well -
for all that pleases you to give
tho filling the entire world
there is more that pleases him to take
tho filling worlds beyond the world -
then, please, give him
even the empty vacuums of the universe....

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I like spiders and I like black ants.
For fleas and lice, I take another stance.
Sometimes, I wonder if they admire us.
The same question goes for a virus.

Neither foolish fleas and lice, spread by mice, 
Nor black ants and spiders, heed my advice.
Disgusting dirt and dust cannot defend
Against a vacuum cleaner's business end.

I'll add one more stanza in this edit 
To give that nasty virus credit
For being both invincible and mean 
And evading vacuums - COVID-19....

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