#dishes
it looks almost superstitious
watching the way she washes dishes
carefully placing the plates to the side
as she finishes them
and i
must in turn
with grace in reciprocal
embrace dutifully tend to
my place
as i take the terry cloth rag
we bought on our first date
it was more elegant then
embroidered edges prevented fraying
now well worn from years
of playing against the ever-present
superstitious
and ultimate fate we always dreaded
but here we are
and i
wiping the terry cloth rag
against a frail white
dinner plate
i see the cracks in that too
still holding together
in spite of
years of misuse
and we
realize we don't wonder
why if someone held us
up against the bulb
light wouldn't bleed through our cracks
my gumdrop
May 12
May 12, 2026 at 10:17 AM UTC
I’m worried, to be blunt
it seems as though you’ve grown bored
tired of my games
I decide
to silently give up, let my worst fears win
but you reignite
the little bit of life
still lingering within
I watch you play
with my things
and a hunger is reborn
my move.
you wash dishes peacefully
small talk. nothing romantic here
but your eyes linger
you smile dramatically
I would wash dishes
with you forever
if it meant you could be mine
Nov 10, 2025
Nov 10, 2025 at 10:05 PM UTC
in dishes made for food
in cups made to drink
***** hands will hold them up to block the sun
like people forced to work
to soften clanks against their plate
a stair rail forced to break
sits kindly beside it’s well
exactly almost where it’s meant to be
like mom starts her shift
beneath her wheels will turn
and turn and turn
a worn down walking cane
pushed through door handles
assigned to keep it shut against the wind
a woman limps across
with all her weight she leans
between the handles, against the creaking crane
exactly almost where it’s meant to be
like when i go to work
the pull of chatting with a friend
you feel the forming group
exactly almost where i’m meant to be
exactly almost
exactly almost where I’m meant to be
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 2:51 PM UTC
Near Misses
With
Bubble Kisses
In-between
Soapy Swishes
And
Sudsy Squishes
In addition to
Sappy Wishes
Over
Happy Dishes
May 26, 2023
May 26, 2023 at 12:20 PM UTC
As the water runs hot
Hands turning red
Steam rising
It's all worth it;
To get it clean
Get it right
Scrub the pan
Wash the dish
It's all part of the plan
Savor the heart-felt wish
Get it done
No matter the pain
It's how it's supposed to be
Do your part
You don't need a heart
Or worse, a tongue
Just get it done
Wash, rinse, repeat
Steam roll and water pour
This task first, then a few more
- Jay M
August 19th, 2021
Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 1:10 AM UTC
To a dishwasher, an invention might be to wash a dish that has never been clean.
To a mathematician, an invention might be to solve a problem that has never been solved.
Both are very tricky and I want to give up before I start.
Both take "grease" and a will to come back time and time again.
Feb 19, 2021
Feb 19, 2021 at 12:52 AM UTC
steel plates warped
bend with the burden of
dust,
I keep washing
skin wrinkles
weeps
still I scrub
until the plate breaks
the silver scar
lined with blood.
I throw it away,
unwrap a new one
knowing that tomorrow
more dust will come.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 3:09 AM UTC
I get up in the morning
and my first duty is to our cats
to ensure they have food and water
to satisfy their simple needs.
They have no urgency to gather in
the myriad strands and filaments
of my mind to focus on them.
Unlike me, they are without ego
or neurosis or compulsions
or impulse to chew and devour
startling new currents of thought
or to dissect and parse tradition
to produce some new light of intellect.
Their feline genius of simplicity
is my present focus of admiration
and desire.
But of course I could never dissolve
the accumulated humanity
focused in my solitary mind
and achieve the elegant ease
with which our cats occupy
their meager patch of earth.
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 4:45 AM UTC
The kitchen is a war zone
A bomb explosion
Wading through the mess of dishes
like sailing across the polluted ocean
They’re stacked practically to the roof
I can no longer ignore the ugly truth
The proof of all the days I’ve already been through
This bowl is from two weeks ago
Good god where did the time go?
I let this mess get piled up
24 hours in a day is not enough
There’s so much to do I don’t know where to start
Maybe it’s best if I break into parts
Turn on the water
Give it time to get properly hot
The sink begins to fill
The water is overflowing
Dishes spill
What am I gonna do?
Now its not one mess but two
The floor is flooded
The sink isn’t draining
I’m slipping and falling
Frantically trying to stop it
But I don’t know the first thing
about fixing a broken faucet
May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 12:28 AM UTC
I know there are chores to be done
Laundry pile is growing large and looming
The corner of my room overcrowded
Bin sits and as I wait it's blooming
I fear there be dishes in the sink
If I listen close I can hear
Cry out my name shamelessly
I try not to get too near
I am not blind to the layer of dust
All objects on my bedside table
Mom wasn't lying when she remarked
"This coated house is disgusting!"
"It looks like a stable!"
But don't feel like doing anything
Washing dishes
Or clothes
Or cleaning
I think I'll just lose myself
Some deeper meaning
Dec 31, 2019
Dec 31, 2019 at 12:44 PM UTC
monday: putting ***** plates aside
tuesday: ignoring the ***** plates
wednesday: being bothered by the ***** plates
thursday: intending to do the dishes
friday: forgetting to do the dishes
saturday late afternoon: meeting a woman in a pub who tells daddy that she has a dirt allergy
saturday evening: arduously scrapping off fatty chunks from the dishes, groaning about such a hard kind of labor and thinking about easier ways of cleaning ***** plates.
from saturday night until sunday morning: making love to the woman from the pub; putting ***** plates...
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 4:13 AM UTC
She stands there,
In her own world,
Siging to her music,
Lost in the moment.
I stand watching,
Loving every inch of her,
Loving every second,
Lost in her and in this moment.
Her shirt,
Her underwear,
Her soft,
Beautiful,
Warm,
Skin.
She wears her gloves
Her dorky,
Purple,
Rubber,
Dish gloves.
Hairs in a bun
Hips,
Legs,
Shoulders swaying.
Soap,
Dishes,
And water,
All of it together.
I watch,
My heart swells,
This is my love,
This is my favorite moment.
This is the moment I knew.
She was there,
She was everything,
She was perfect....
So perfect...
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 3:53 PM UTC
busy movement of dinner time
frantic dashing to make a dish
insults were thrown in as spices
bitter as they roll into the ***
oven alarms blare to make us aware of how loud we are yelling
a spoon has fallen, but so has some tears
"it's ready" has been uttered
the blur of busy has stopped
we shift to the table
the table is set,
and I'm set for the argument sure to disrupt
silence seeps out of open mouths
chewing and calculating the next move
its dinner time after all
no one is satisfied until the dishes are done
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 7:16 PM UTC
I stopped at a run down Diner one day,
on the menu were dishes I couldn't even say;
I asked the Waitress, "What do you suggest,"
"Poodles and Noodles, it one of our best."
~
"I need a minute, could you give me a few,
I can't decide on what I will choose;"
"That's fine sir, but the soup of the day,
is pickled Grasshoppers, on a bed of hay."
~
My stomach did flip-flops, as she walked away,
but I decided I'd try something new, anyway;
She returned shortly after, with a large Menu,
"I'll try number 4, the Baked Possum Stew.
~
How fresh is this dish, did you catch it today,"
"This morning our cooks scraped it off the Highway;"
I waited patiently for my meal to arrive,
hoping that after this, I would survive.
~
It wasn't half bad, if I say so myself,
so I paid the bill, left the tip on the shelf;
I decided that if I ate there again,
I'd bring one of my very best friends.
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 10:28 PM UTC
When I'm with you
I forgot doing dishes
Is even a chore.
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 4:32 PM UTC
Courting and honeymoon are lust phases,
When over these stages,
Reality sets in,
Don't give in.
The unpaid bills, messy house,
Bickering with your spouse.
Men! Don't look at your problems,
They will stick on you like chewing gums,
Find solutions!
Be on course,
With understanding and love your marriage hold at all cost,
Or with pity and remorse,
Take a divorce.
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 10:27 AM UTC
mismatched furniture
a few dishes in the cupboards
a couple random blankets and lamps
a pan and a mug or two in the sink
a broken clock above the fake fireplace
a fake jackalope head on the fireplace
a couple college kids' apartment
my brother and his roommate
it isn't much but it feels like home
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:58 PM UTC
Flip on the music
Flip on the water
(Try not to burn myself)
Grab the implement,
(A sponge with soap)
Let the mind ponder,
Cups first? Or perhaps
The plates.
How shall everything
Fit together within
The drying rack?
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 3:08 AM UTC
He doesn't know what his purpose is.
Does he even have one?
Is he a giver?
A taker?
What is it?
All he does now is wash dashes in a nasty restaurant with cheap, foamy soap that barely cleans the dishes.
Not that anyone would notice that.
He doesn't want to live this way forever,
But his bad luck is ceaseless.
There's no way that something good would happen to him.
At least not in this life.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 8:02 PM UTC
Once upon a time we had the hymnal propped by the kitchen sink so's I could learn; years later Mum would sing along with me, and now...I like never but once in a blue moon dare to sing aloud, for missing her to tears.
(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXLVII)
What's happened to--me? Rainy hours detail
Thet eye with silver's touch while green lawns fence
The minutes fog obscures by vague suspense
With softest carpets rolled out to avail,
And I'm not erm, my own in sheer betrayl;
Erst naked trees lost to mists' whitish sense
Of yonder, I could shiver, and do hence,
Cuz in a blink I'm his upon that scale.
One comment like my wont five days ere, poor
As what? now he distracts aught hours 'til through
Suggestion I am giggling, sober, tour
His deepest sorrows, and maunt say he'd woo?!
Of course, I'm better searching violets, fer
All that. Let purple wink low, saying we knew.
05Apr17b
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
If I won the lottery
I'd invest, in ancient pottery
Not the Ming, or Tang
but definitely, in Shang
Dishes, round not square
with crockery to spare
Bone I hear is best
if it's got a family crest
Wishing my fortunes to expand
my oh my, that'd be so grand
Collecting every piece
hoping, I'm not fleeced
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 1:42 PM UTC
ordinary life halts
when there’s a power outage
(especially in the country)
no shower no bath no TV no
Internet no fridge no stove no
oven no flushing no music
no reading (no lights) no dishes
no distractions - just silence
the in and out of breath
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC
funny about the walls we built
during hours spent digging up
crazy things we all felt
made up out of garbage.
why could nobody stop the war
when it climbed into their screens?
when everyone's favorite thing turned off
you could see the sky flickering for miles.
that day was my favourite day.
it stood still against the bright
blue backdrop and you could
hear the angels taking pictures
on their smartphones laughing
about how foolish we were
for believing in them.
back then I didn't know
how to look at all the walls
building up on the earth
or at the angels with smartphones.
but now it sorta feels like maybe
I've found a place to be near them
by trains in the union yard
in the streets walking slowly
and at home with my feet
burried underneath the ***** dishes
laughing about how foolish
I am to believe.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
I’d always less than half a sense;
To my detriment, often doubling-down,
Ordering the same sorts of poison –
Warm beer, cold women, back alley-ed eyes
And other late night snacks simmered atop the oil
Salvaged the streets come previously devoured.
Bottled and poured, again and consecutively through me,
An anomaly now evolves average;
Cured only an alchemy wrought, "baijiu," (rice wine),
Crowd summed solitude’s paradox and hazy Chinese moons.
So when in Rome, do as the Romans do
And die as Romans die;
A slighter justification for what’d later trumpet –
Salivation’s sip, salvation’s second,
A tickle atop tongue, sour in stomach
And cancerous come the lesser years,
Deep, nether and beyond the once upon a time barren,
So I plead for seconds and corral but only
Three revelations in the expanses exhumed:
One – I want to die. Two – Tastes beat the years.
And three – The world’s a wonderful meal;
Home to another and common denominator,
The shared variable, viable and pliable,
Our simple ingestion, communal,
So that I may venture a path paved prior
And yet parallel something nearly precious – truly alive.
Either way, it’d satiated but one achy throb
And prevented me from washing the dishes;
A fair trade for someone who’d always assumed early ends.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC