Whirr Poems | Examples

Slow Summer

soft as a butterfly’s kiss
invisible as a dragonfly’s wings
busy as the whirr of the honey bee
tasty as a honeysuckle trumpet
familiar as the mourning dove’s song
lazy as ol’ Mud Creek flows
comfortable as well-worn slippers
happy as an angel in flight
comforting as lullaby lows
secretive as Geisha fans
polka-dotted as dark crystal skies
clouds mimicking monotone artists
a color palette as brilliant as Monet

Sleepless

Sleepless

Dogs are howling.
Cats are yowling.
Stomach's growling.
Just want a nap.

Mowers mow.
Blowers blow.
Planes are low.
Please, a bit of kip.

A fly astir .
An AC's whirr.
Roaring roadster.
Just forty winks.

Telly's off.
Party's over.
Almost aslee...
Have to pee.

-Grim

Washing and Drying Up

Each night after the evening meal
there was never a discussion
as to who would wash the dishes
and who would do the drying up.
My mother was the washer,
my sister and I did the drying up.

Hot steam would rise from the sink 
before plates were plunged
deep in foam and scrubbed
with a brush - we would wait,
tea towel in hand to pounce
on the first plates to come out,
rinsed and white - 
dishes were easier to dry 
than heavy pots
and fiddly knives and forks.

It was a time for talk, for laughs
and sometimes snuffled back tears -
everyday life lived within the space 
of our touching elbows. 
I can still feel the tea towel 
in my hand wet and warm 
with those blessed memories.

Seventy years on, I bend down
and load the racks of a dishwasher
with soiled tableware from
the evening meal.  Its quiet whirr
will fill the winter silence
and play a soulless ditty when 
the washing and drying up
is done.

labyrinth of simultaneous feelings

a labyrinth of feelings twist me up
Covid shot put me into a semi-dead-zone
warmth of sun gives me a glimmer of hope
whirr of air conditioner annoys my dog ears

I am fearful of my giant charging pony dogs
they both weigh more than I weighed as a bride
I feel refreshed by the coolness of this October day
Other feelings felt simultaneously refuse to take the lead.

back door

back door screen opens
covey of doves' wings whirr~whirr....
housewife steps into sun
hummingbirds whirr round feeder  
she stands still while whirr round head

TEARS GOT NO PAIN

Tears Got No Pain
For Daisy Kirui
Can you hear the call far the yonder?
The still and clear mystery that afternoon? When Daisy took her heart to see you her son? And...And you still ponder?
"It's over, son, you're the sun... “I’ll keep to remind you.”
It hurts to remember the dispiriting efforts to gauge you, the absurdity, sudden bout of a liar,
and she still saw you her favorite measly "thing"
It's worth no mother's heart away from your pain she took-.
"Whirr your mind and try to shut down the sinking regrets"
The detention of guilt, folding and engulfing, "Son, turn it up, your star is rising"
Daisy made you believe in yourself,
and she turned to be the fairest person you ever met "You're bigger than your wrongs..."
And the tears flew...
And pain- pain taking a toll of staggering wonder Shy, blushed by her charming nature-.
That afternoon, dear son, should render joy.
No longer should tears motion you to run a guilt folding table its joy, rather than pain.

Time Passes By So Slowly

Be prepared all you young'uns
The golden years aren't always golden
Looking ahead when I was younger
Thought, “what a fantastic notion”

Life would be a blast lounging around
Enjoying my life at its best
Sorry to have to burst your bubble
Coz here comes the real test

You wake up early each morning
Ready for come what may
But it isn't too long before you realize
You have no plans per say

Suddenly you've become very aware
You're not needed the way you once were
You still have so much to offer
But life has passed you by in a whirr

The hardest thing for you to get used to
The fact you're no longer the star
The world is still singing and motoring along
But you're not driving the car

So be prepared all you young'uns
The golden years aren't that golden
Enjoy life before the inevitable happens
When time passes by in slow motion

A Raindrop

In the silence
There is a humming
A hint of life’s
Forever whisper.
The whirr of atoms
Spinning galaxies
Iron rails singing
Un-clappered bells
Repeating a lost call
A vibratory vastness
Seeking validation
A raindrop

Magnetism

Lights flicker, 
buttons ping, 
new clicks whirr 
in the beautiful machine.

My head slides,
my eyes turn, peer in,
gaze: 
magnetized by novelty, in this tiny 
maze, slinking ever further, further in.

Purring springs exhale steel-sweet breath; 
my narrow eyes glide between busy twirling cogs;
my ears perceive the melodies of electronic hums. 
Then, snap!
 
I failed to hear the mind hiss
inside its trap.

Summer Minstrels and Songsters

Summer Minstrels and Songsters

Crickets
Summer songsters
Music of the night
Back porch lullabies, serenade
Singers

Newborn
Cicadas buzz
Yawn and stretch in warm sun
Bright eyes see magnolia trees
Minstrels

Summer
Fireflies twinkle
Magic song of stars
Like suspended bits of glitter
Flash Dance

Buzzing
Grasshopper tunes
Vibrate like a drumline 
Invites lovers to sing along
Duets

Chirping
Katydids trill
Rhythmic beats of improv
In pulsating choruses 
Of blues

Whirr of
Dragonfly wings
Soft downbeats
Solstice troubadours sing alto 
Crooners

From the Kitchen Window

The burst soapsuds dissipate.
Six doves outside my window
Enjoy their meal, congregate.
Wings whirr, head to the gingko

Baby phoebes see surroundings.
With wide mouths expose tastebuds
Hunger each day compounding!
I look, then see burst soapsuds   

So much happening outside my kitchen window view that I forget the dishwater is getting cold and chores going undone. 

June 20, 2023

There Is a Hum To Morning

There is a hum to morning
an accustomed to whirr
softly grinding gears
electrical whispers
gentle creaking of awakening wood
satisfied exhale
of a still slumbering dog
purr of a sun warmed cat.
I lie still and listen
to this too often unheard
Symphony.

John G. Lawless
©12/12/2022

The Laundry Room

She measures his time
With the soft sounds of the machines,
The whirr, 
The small thumps,
The humming.
Her husband
Sleeps in their darkened room
Just down the hall
Room 217
From my mother’s,
Room 221.

Before-
Her five-bedroom
And all the kids
The big laundry room
Where she spent
Hours with the scents
And touches
Fluffing, folding
Carefully into piles-

Like she does now
But with one small load
Over and over
Watching and guarding
Carefully keeping his moments
Going one at a time
With the turning
And tumbling 
While he sleeps.

Unique

Babes cry
     Moms sigh

     Winds whirr
     Leaves stir
     
     Dogs bark
     We hark

     Cows chew
     Say Moo

     Bears growl
     Wolves howl

     Heels click
     Boots lick

     Birds tweet
     So sweet

     Stroke fur
     Cats purr

     Unique
     Man Speaks

Window

through kitchen window
orange blossomed tiger lily....
whirr of hummingbird 
designed to use energy
only early in my youth   

Written: July 12, 2022
Sponsor: Brian Strand

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