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else Oct 20
At night, under the dim darkness,
I found, the world’s best tranquilness
Under wafts of water and soap
Folding clothes, dreaming about hope.

Opened the door, felt how snug, warm,
The fabric’s touch was on my arm
As I folded each piece with care
And slowly roll socks, pair by pair.

Ballads, dolce, I am entranced.
Cantabile, as my hands danced
To the guitar's riff, the drumbeat,
Sweet heartbeat, beneath their heat.
Have you ever felt that peace when singing and folding laundry? Haha
Ahnaf Jul 18
Take me somewhere
Where I can fold your clothes
And sing a song for you

If I could know
The sorrows and dreams
that bring you to your knees

I would sit back
Take your stack
And fold it right down the middle

It's all I could do for you
Put a crease
In your sad dreams
Prince eduard Apr 29
A mom is here
Doing laundry
I ought to help
Just here waiting
Till' she's finished
Washing and operating
The Mecin cuci
Or so-called washing machine

She put the clothes
Around it, one by one
She pour it
Until it's finished
Another batch is waiting,

Next, she hang it on
A wire line, some on
A plastic array
Of divided spaces

Until it dries by the suns heat
Overtime, now it's time
To collect it
Yes, It's our job to fold it and
Order 'em in our
Respective cabinets

Until another time,
Another day of washing
Laundry
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2013
5:00am and folding laundry

when the inspiration tank is yellow lit,
and E stands for more than empty,
g e n u i n e emptiness,
try this remedy that is a
first generation family secret!

fold the laundry.
all kinds.
his n' hers,
blacks n' whites
really clean and

and the kind that never get clean,
no matter how much d e t e r-g e n t
you use, how oft you wash 'em...


Instructions:

1. fold only when wearing t- shirt, tank top, briefs (optional)
2. put on Pandora 60's rock n ' roll (folk rock - highly recommend Runaround Sue by Dion and the Belmonts, The Wedding Song, The House of the Rising Sun)
3. dance, shake, improve your moves when nobody's looking
3a. control yourself, if you must sing, at the top of your lungs is not acceptable.
If alone skip, skip to no. 5
4. every third piece give a sniff, get high on
fresh starts, clean notions, the idea that all can be washed away
4a. Every third piece of hers give an extra sniff,
so you can know why love keeps you alive
5, if you have to sing, then only loud acceptable
(***** the others, you're doing the folding, they're sleep-dreaming)
6. drink lots of water
7. have pen + paper handy cause ain't no doubt
the poet puppet muse masters gonna smack you
when folding sheets alone.
8. finish the write and post it ASAP
9. always leave the single socks on top of the dryer,
a prayer to the laundry gods for the
safe return of their better halves
10. finish
11. If done correctly, you need to shower (wash hair!)
12, around 6:00am, all scrubbed and clean,
fold yourself back into her arms. Snuggle, spoon.
13. when she mumbles you smell clean, you reply,
                                  "been folding laundry, writing poetry,
                                   and the clean smell done fell on me"
14. if alone, despair not, read this poem and know we are together
15. believe this day is full of possibilities,
write me a poem, put the load right on me

there are stains that cannot be removed,
deterred by this gent, and his a-gents,
they are history, treat'em with respect
and not more
deter-gent

every poem must end,
so when the folding is done,
whisper:

*the day ahead is full of possibilities
like the pleasured making of my clothes happy soiled,
so I possess an excuse, a reason, a rationale for living
to fold laundry again!
I have no idea where these crazies come from.
"But it's sad and it's sweet
And I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes"
Maestro Bill Joel

For Harriet Tecumsah Watt

11/24/13
Gabriella Jan 26
I dumped my laundry
On the ground
Hoping it would allow me
To feel motivated

Motivated to move
To clean to work
But all it did
Was sit on my floor

I sat with it too
Staring at the pile.
Looking for the answers
Written in my shirts
Emma Jan 20
I don’t want to be constantly afraid you're going to leave me or change your mind.
I don’t want you to treat me poorly.
I don’t want to know if there are other girls, if I am unspecial.
I don’t want to /be/ unspecial.
I don’t want to love you when you only want me around for reasons that have nothing to do with me.
I don’t want to exist only in my car, in the dark, in your drunkenness and sadness.
I don’t want to always feel as though I have to convince you to see me.
In short: I want to be wanted, which I am not.
I live in the neat and clean
Hung up shirts and freshly folded laundry
Sunlight peeking through the white curtains
keeping my mind at ease.

I am busy
rushing from spot to spot
reading, writing, and completing tasks.
It keeps my days full.

I am stressed
however, unlike the dark summer hours
I get to live with the stress in the beautiful autumn leaves.
I am stressed but in different ways.

I am lonely
but only in the unattainable love
that I romanticize, I am alone but due to my faults.
I am lonely but In different ways now.

I am so very weird
My moods, switching from one extreme to the other
finding a balance is extremely troublesome.
But people don’t seem to notice.
I am so very weird, but it seems only to me.

Or maybe I am not
Maybe they all see
I wonder if when they look at me...
Am I pitied? Or am I loved?

The days keep passing by
season to season, happy to sad
lonely to depressed back to happy
and I wonder where I’ll end up when the days stop.
More thoughts. More Poems. More, more, more.
Mida Burtons Feb 2018
i see my life hung out to dry
my memories slowly falling to the ground
my mind losing all colour
leaving behind a shell of the person i once was
slowly i shrink
ryn Feb 2018
When words form
but the voice is muted,
strings of sentences -
like loose lengths of yarn,
just swimming...
swirling in the currents
of the wash.

They meet,
they connect,
they get tangled up
with each other.

What had before made sense
now swells larger,
more intricate,
more tiresome.

It all converges
into a ******
as the spin cycle ends.

What’ll emerge
is a convoluted mess.



I’m a mess.

And then,
I get hung out to dry.
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