"mopping" poems
There, in God’s country, the benign ruler
Had promptly burst out of the earth’s bowels.
A sea of coconuts smothered, sultrily,
The most unwilling moss-painted houses
The banyan raised its feet high enough
For hundreds of creepy monsoon-creatures.
The journey began in silver slanting rain
Waiting for streaks of pure white sunshine
To crawl through upright areca nut barks.
As the telephone wires went up and down
A floating bird quickly froze in the sky.
First the coconut fronds ran to the hills
Then the chilly plants , go red in the face
Inside, they of the uncertain *** beat the wind
Out of their joined palms in forced cadence.
The floor-mopping boy under our large feet
Looked with money-wetness in his brown eyes.
The train went spluttering for lack of puff
While gravel stones hit its forbidden parts.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 10:36 PM UTC
I love Orange Juice.
I am honestly addicted.
Breakfast, Lunch , and Dinner I'll enjoy this yellow liquid.
I 'll even drink some while cleaning the dishes,
mopping the floor,
open my door,
carry my self out and drink some more.
You ever had Orange Juice and Chocolate !?
Chocolate Chip cookies, Kit Kat, Hersey , Sneakers . Chocolate Cake, Fancy Chocolate , Chocolate *** Twix !
Any of this,
fits the Chocolate and Orange Juice Fix.
I love the Tropicana Florida Made Orange Juice.
Is that what the Tropic's like?
Is that what Florida like?
The air and people give you a tang that at first is strange?
But in the end you'll say "I am addicted to these things" ?
I, love, Orange Juice.
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 3:42 PM UTC
we had been mopping
the kitchen floor all day
and the dirt never
stopped coming back
and earlier we had sprayed
the entire front porch
down with the garden hose
and now it was still wet
which made it feel as if
it had recently rained when in fact
the grass was a crunchy
brown carpet of regrets.
the night before we had
drunk orange smoothies
laced with lime and something
aged sleek and dark
(i think it must have been
the reason we couldn't
sleep that night
lay awake in my parents bed
and i told you why i
wouldn't go swimming
until the sun rose
the dog barked
the birds screamed
their morning songs
and my body stopped its
nightly spasms of fear.)
and the next evening
we put on a miranda lambert song
(the one we drank to
in your mother's van last winter)
sat on the wet
porch swing
and cracked open
our first beers
they were
really bad
i gagged
because it tasted
like carbonated
banana bread with
too much stale
baking soda
and we poured half of them
into the flower beds
the next morning
was sunday
and we had milk and muffins
in the kitchen with
simon and garfunkel
then went back out to the porch
drank iced coffee in the
eleven o'clock sunlight
and you said
"if this were a normal sunday
i would have been up at six
at church by eight
and done teaching my first
sunday school class by ten."
(is beer as much
of an acquired taste
as coffee is?
because i can't ever
remember not liking it
i used to think it was
bitter but i always
liked it anyway.)
i didn't say anything
because i didn't want to
say what was on the tip
of my tongue
that this kind of sunday
had become my normalcy
and our variety of saturday night
no longer felt like underage
drinking and more like
the way i was meant to be.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 3:15 PM UTC
Washing, ironing, cooking, cleaning
The work is never done!
Lunching, shopping, relaxing, reading
I’ve heard is much more fun.
Sweeping, mopping, dusting, shining
Who thinks up all these gigs?
But what I really want to know right now
Is who left open the barn door to let in the pigs?
Mowing, weeding, trimming, seeding
Are mans work, but I’m all on my own
I gave birth to a virtual army
But housework is their No Go Zone!
Yelling, screaming, crying, keening
Achieves naught but my puffy face
I’ve given up such futile exercises
That puts no one in their place.
I hear “Can you help me please”
They hear “Blah Blah Blah”
Maybe I need to learn sign language
One gesture can go so far!
To this end I have ultimately decided
And I really do think this is for the best
To sit right down with drink in hand and
Let the little piggies wallow in their own mess!
24/07/2010
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 5:56 AM UTC
Have you ever felt that your life is wrong?
Like you're suppose to be somewhere else?
Like while you're mopping the floor of your lowly dishwasher job your vision blurs and the world around you convulses turning the mop into a spear swirling the sea of bubbles into blood and the far off voice of your boss mutates into the sound of your fellow warrior?
Or maybe when you walk into rain and the soft sound of the droplets on your skin turn into the rhythmic music of things against armor.
And as you look to make sit you're not going crazy the roar of an engine turns into the bellowing of dragons, horses and more.
These flashbacks transport you to another time where the world is mystic,
The pavement transmutates into dirt as the air around swirls into sudden shrills of strengthening speeches spurring you soulfully into skillful battle.
And as you speed forward leading the charge
of your battalion of skilled men a thousand large,
The flashback stops and you're in your time,
No armor on you skin..
Or lives on the line..
But your heart is still racing,
And you remember their names,
Of the boys you were leading,
On to glory and fame,
So was it a dream?
Or a memory from the past?
Or maybe it was from your life last.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
If you do a little housework every day
Then on the weekend you’ll have time to play
A housewife s work is never done
Working from morning to setting sun.
Sweeping, dusting and mopping, always moving
And never stopping.
Washing clothes and ironing too
So many things that you must do.
Then the cooking and doing the dishes
Picking up in back of the kids and feeding the fishes.
Then trying to look pretty for when your husband gets home
So at your tired appearance he won’t throw stones.
Then when your day is through, a CALGON bath is what you do.
(Calgon take me away)
Just lying in the tub to unwind, and in another hour you’ll be fine.
The comfort of your bed is looking so good
And you’re wondering if you should.
Then your husband has that gleam in his eye
And you’re hoping that he doesn’t try.
Then the comment was all it took, of how good you always look.
Then he holds you in his arms and releases all his charms
And makes all your aches and pains go away
And this ends the housewife s day.
© L. RAMS 032515
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
Water the Greenhouse
Water the plants on the deck.
Walk Autumn Moon.
Salutation to the Sun
Yoga on the deck
Prayers
Angel of Air
Reading & Study with Ken
Sipping herbals & he, his coffee.
Pick up.
Moving the living room furniture
Rearranging. Sweeping. Mopping.
Clean the kennel.
Fresh bedding for Autumn.
A break for Sevenfold Peace in the sunshine.
Listening to the Holy Stream of Sound.
Playing with Autumn.
Laughing with Ken.
Continuing with rearranging & cleaning
Done!
Another break
With Ken, Autumn & Habibie
By the firepit in front of the shop.
Auti chasing water up and down and around.
Walk to Alli's, talk and pick up the key.
Cut broccoli, cabbage, carrots, & kale
Add a few pods of peas
Drizzle poppy seed dressing.
Two bowls with 1/2 cup of rolled oats each
Add cinnamon.
Taking a teaspoon
Half full with honey.
Dipping it into the center of the oats
Pouring boiling water over the honey.
Into the oats.
Stirring and stirring
Watching the cinnamon spirals
Mix into the sweet porridge.
Small cacao chips, sunflower seeds
A few raisins
Sprinkled as garnish.
Eating together
Smallville, playing with Autumn
Habibie resting near by.
She maybe carrying kittens.
Too early to tell.
Tired. Good night. Sleep.
2:30 am.
Ken up watching a movie on is phone.
My, my, how times have changed.
Return to bed.
Writing, writing, writing….now it is done.
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 1:07 PM UTC
***** from the bottle,
Warm.
Hot dogs from the package,
When your down and *****
The grotesque becomes magic.
Pawning a guitar for a pellet gun,
To procure breakfast.
Squirrel stew in the back of a scamper camper.
Spotlighting bullfrogs,
And mopping floors for a hot meal,
And a cold beer,
And a sympathetic ear.
Nights when the blacktop turned into void,
And the painted lines became a tightrope to nowhere.
Full circle,
Bangor to Frisco,
Any woman who was willing to sleep in the bed of a truck
Was a queen for as long as she stayed,
Always had **** concealed on me,
The copper piece of road currency,
To the gold and silver, of *** and gas.
The exchange rates would change overnight,
But syphon some gas at a truck stop
And it all will be alright.
Misspent youth, following bands
And getting lost along the way.
***** from the bottle,
And hot dogs from the package.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
There's a man mopping his brow after
a Nobel-worthy experiment.
And there's a man mopping the floor after
he leaves.
There's a man who has a scoop on a
thrilling story.
And there's a man scooping ice cream,
yearning to find a thrill in it.
There's a man picking a new car,
a fiery red convertible.
And there's a man picking grapes,
his back burning on fire.
There's a man singing his lungs out for
thousands of people.
And there's a man singing away in the mines,
his lungs already out.
There's a man who makes life happen
with his wallet,
And there's a man who can't afford to,
a circumstance made by life.
There's a man.
And there's a man.
Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 10:51 PM UTC
How do I say it,
when the clouds still thunder cold
and the wind breaks me in shivers
where all the leaves are rusting yellow
and the sky looks like a grey, mopping carpet
when the sun hides itself
and where all the people loom
ready to pounce and shred me
How do I say it,
as she smiles
and her eyes just gleam and nothing more
because I don’t know
if she will reciprocate
when her friends look at me
like a stranger from a distant land
finding feet, and not yet there
How do I say it,
that the pain of not saying ‘it’ cracks me open
like a cycle of Cruciatus curse on a repeat
so only the wrong words come out
and the tongue feels twisted, forever like a roller-coaster
going faster and faster, getting more intense,
but just not getting there
to nail it.
How do I say it,
that I have sinned
by setting my eyes on her,
and letting her pervade all over me
like the fog on a cold December morning
So when will that day come
When I say it,
and let her know of how I feel.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 4:50 AM UTC
Gravy boats filled with piping hot gravy
Grand upon a slice of meat
Generous helping must be served
Great times had mopping every morsel off the plate
Gourmet chefs make oodles of it in restaurants
Gluttons woof much into them
Get me some now...
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
Filling up, wide eyed, breathing deep
Avoiding the spillage, the jerking motion
Rowers giving elbow grease to churn out sobs
Of substance, grandiose design to sorrow
Bold, emblazoned tears of texture, relay
Racing to the jawline finish, backup tissue
Business flourishing, mopping up the fast flow
Red eye fostering their talents with expertise
Glooping globules on rain dance alert, dancing
The tango, the rumba, the belly dance parade
Of unchained dam busting, snot ravaging
Sodden and damp, choking its route outta here
All cryed out, on empty, exhaustion reigns, eyelids
Closing the stop tap to the off position, rearranging
Priorities to sleep mode, sinking down into sprung
Heaven, resting heavy lashes to bed, curling up
To while away the hours, silencing the alarm
Of solitude and inner turmoil, resting the think
Tank, cells charmed habitat of hybernation
Booked and paid for, down payment secured
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 3:38 PM UTC
We ate chicken sandwiches, mine
no bun, at a table with an 80's
geometric design on top of two silver
metal legs with our legs
intertwined. I tried
to draw a comic on the wrapper,
but you kept making me laugh
by reenacting the conversation
we had with the lady at the register
who gave us the wrong change,
but using a baby's voice instead.
The boy mopping the floors wished
desperately that we would leave, but
you looked so cute with ketchup
on your lip and I really, really
didn't want you to drop me off.
There was an Adele song
on the radio that we've heard for the second
time, but you sound more like
a forgotten track to a John Hughes film--
a little heavy, a little messed up, a whammy
bar progression with blonde hair
who wore jeans and had a really cool car.
I'd like to kiss you like Molly Ringwald
does Judd Nelson in that movie
we talked the whole way through as it played
on Netflix. I'd like to wear you
like a bad haircut; something no one else
understands but I pull off effortlessly.
You feel effortless to me. So refill
my take-out cup with five different sodas,
make a scene as we leave the restaurant,
my hand laced up in yours, and let me drink
you in as I pretend we aren't driving
back home just yet.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 12:18 AM UTC
Would you like your house cleaned Madame?
I promise to do a thorough job
My manhood securely locked in my chastity cage
Oh dear
I do hope I pass the inspection this time!
Last month, my mistress determined
That I had done a cursory job mopping the kitchen floor
And I wasn't allowed an ******** release for a month
My manhood strains inside the cage
I must take great care to make sure
The floors look stunning
I live to please my mistress
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
We're at the point of almost melting
Hellish heatwave is most sweltering
All of us getting an absolute baking
Thermostats are all upwardly rising
Abundant solar activity is happening
Skin on our faces akin to pork crackling
Copious amount of water we're drinking
Our sweaty brows are in need of mopping
Relief from the heat we're always seeking
Cool locales like long verandah shading
Hades is where us folks are now dwelling
Endless hours of excessively high temperatures
Reductions in these would be such a pleasure
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
It's 9 am your throbbing eyes
pull you towards awake
The town hums hot outside
to a tune of 13 minutes,
buzzing nerves; roll out of bed
and try to calm the ******* shakes
and 6 times
in the last hour,
tried to swallow
those distinct, familiar notes
swollen throat won't go away
You're drying out. You're mopping up
the yolks of eggs with half-burnt toast
And hearing snips of songs on radios
down the alley from your home.
But the paint's all dry on this one--
and this breakfast's monochrome
One more time
choke back the losses
on a streak that's growing long
and ever thicker
It's 2 pm and coffee's tasty
it's making your eyes ache
The town shares your migraine
And streets laugh at your footsteps.
with the strangest sympathy
Try to still the ******* shakes
as you cross the Lewis bridge
Just to shiver with the spirits
while they howl about your head.
But, outside, the town hums hot.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
They promised to level you up
After a six month grind.
Took a ball point pen
kept your eyes on the macguffin.
but there's still rats in the basement
never made enough Rupees
To trade in this wooden sword
no matter how many teeth
or claws you trade in
You're still stuck behind a register
or mopping up XP from the local wildlife's viscera
During your daily quest
turning in the farmers daughter
you noticed a woman promptly positioned in your way.
Some bandits killed her father
and she just stuck around
Until you hit the local tavern
and drank too much whiskey
you ran off to fetch her some pearls
then while digging for CLAMS
You met a pirate man
Who asked you to steal back his map.
while you were finding his buried treasure
you happened to find a letter that
forced you into a coffee shop
and here you sit.
always fell for the macguffin
Now you caught the most obvious one.
Always running around, trading pelts for clues
But they just kept you busy so you never traveled out of town.
if you ever headed out
You'd be slaying more than dragons
there's more than princesses to set free
out here in the big world.
your next quest is self actualization
go Sattle up on that griffin.
and head to the farthest town.
You don't know how to make the gold right now
but if you stay here.
how are you gonna find out?
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 1:03 AM UTC
The big, black cat crossed my path again today
As always, slowly walking across the road;
He turned back, around the corner and looked at me
As if to say, I own my path!
The big, black cat crossed my path again today
On this Friday, the Thirteenth
After bumping into the widow housekeeper mopping the floor
And sighting a crow that flew from right to the left;
As the big, black cat crossed my path again today
Shall I ask you; once again,
To wear that artless indifference and the quirky smile
And tell me “What do you ‘get’ from that?”
As earlier when the big, black cat crossed my path
Would you answer, “Come on;
The big black cat is just going somewhere”
Then, with abandon, say “the journey must continue"
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
LONG AGO,
I S P R A W L E D.
I WAS THE OCEAN FLOOR
I WAS AN ASTRONAUT, A COSMONAUT
Still impressive,
I am now
Harry Houdini
in the worlds'
smallest box
Less impressive,
I am covered in my own ****
which is soaking into the cracks between the linoleum tiles
in the ****** kitchen
of the ****** apartment
i live in
with my ****** ex boyfriend
(But he is not home)
Serenity, alone
It's rare
To feel love
From inside
Serenity, together
It's hard
To have help
from outside
An hour and a phone call later
A friend hoists you up and carries you
Mopping your floor
wiping your genitals
Tenderly, platonically
The way we hoped had already happened for the last time
A moment between you as a baby and you as a parent
Before you gained a real memory
But that moment is happening right now
But, somehow, your whole childhood is ahead of you still
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 4:57 PM UTC
We were a little too formal
as I gave you the usual tour of the house
that my mother would not approve of
and we were a little awkward
as I laid down next to you because
I was ready to jump into whatever this was
but at the same time it made me hesitate
because this was the first time.
The first time:
we’d ever gotten this close
and
I’d gotten to really feel
the way your muscled arms clenched
a little when you put your arm around me
and
I looked into your eyes
and you were looking straight back at me
without telling a joke or jabbing my sides
and you were serious
and I was nervous
but I kissed you anyway.
We were still slightly sweat-glistened
from mopping the dingy
and eternally sticky floors at work
but I liked the way
that I breathed you in
and it was a mix
between your quick spritz of cologne
when you thought I wasn’t looking
and your natural musky scent
that was exactly how I imagined you would smell
when I sat just far enough away
in the passenger seat.
We were a little too eager
and
your hands were a little too fast
to throw my tank top to the floor
and unhook my favorite bra
and
you were a little too fast
to get me exposed
despite our hesitations initially
but
I was a little too fast
to kiss you harder
to let you know that
I didn’t give a ****
about the lipstick that lingered
on your slightly swollen lips
and I wanted more
than just to rub my clothed body
against yours.
*August 5, 2014
11:55:19 PM*
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
The newspaper called my father
a Tonsorial Expert and
a Smiling Gentleman
My father whose head is like
a Christmas tree lot on
New Year's Day and
whose mouth was like a rainbow
photographed in sixty-four shades
of gray but
that might have been my fault
even at six
that might have been my fault
He had done
a nice job of hairstyling
according to the pleased
customer, Mr. Holmes
just as he would do
a nice job of mopping floors and
a nice job of rewiring classrooms and
a nice job of growing weaker each day
growing hunched like an unused fishhook but
that might have been my fault
even now
that might have been my fault
Jul 22, 2011
Jul 22, 2011 at 4:34 PM UTC
Broken and wounded, I am a wreck
I am the shadows of dust
the sands of lost worlds
The pauses in rhythms constant
the gaps in words spoken
I believe in change
I see evolution with a revolution
only just with trust invested and not confusion
Poetry is my refuge when facing mind pollution
I slow the chaos and feel constriction
I Spiral in a twirling wave, repitition my addiction
I am mopping the dirt of my own flaws
I am a slave to this dictation
I believe in breaking free, like a tender worn leaf
I whisper to nature and speak to trees
The sweetness conveyed sends me bees
I fly to the ocean skies and wish a cloud bright were mine
I break a hundred times, this then of success a thousand times - a sign
I am a wreck looking to work
I believe in chance and romance
I remember honour before fear and cowardice
some believe in Jesus
some believe in Science, calculations and estimations
some believe in Satan, accepting that he is a victim in this whole situation
some believe that you shouldn't believe, but that is a belief outside of the common belief logical complex
I am a wreck searching for repair
a broken lover looking for a heart none can compare
I swallow the smoke wild in the air
I am a beast of Samson's hair...
The star running on ground when cheerleaders cheer
I am a wreck looking to share, a breath of vitality with those who may dare.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
the last day of january
has always been so odd to me, darling
you left me there many days ago with a kiss,
and i've been figuring things out alone ever since
killing parts of myself, when i needed you the most
but look how i seized the days, look how i overcame it
i was merely sad and mopping around the city,
weeping over the trails you left on the streets we've walked on
and there were your eyes over the blue skies
asking everyone, was it ever my fault that we didn't work?
and this year, on the last day of january,
i got my new diamonds and rose gold
i merely checked on my work and to-do list
for the weekdays, i planned my february
you called me last saturday, you're drunk
i said i hope you're okay- and you thought i'd never reply
but i'm always weak for you, and it's january
so i check my phone, i hope you call me again to say hi
but i haven't heard from you in a day
i thought you were just drunk and lonely on saturday mornings
and you happened to remember that i've loved you ever since
and so i prowl back on my work, i am a busy young woman
my schedule: talking to teresa tomorrow,
talking to chris after the new year,
and talking to you no longer feels like talking to a person i love
you're more of a total stranger than the coco i know, than teresa, than chris
you just proved me again that you are never right for me, darling
i miss what i thought i had, i miss you the most of all
and it's very lonely to know
that i have been hurting myself than you ever did,
i hope you know this, but you're not capable of it,
my tiger knows no hurting
and i said wake up and get ready, it's the last day of january, darling
the professor is waiting for you at the door.
and i hope you're okay,
and i hope you're doing well in life
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 1:35 PM UTC
~
Caught in a web that a spider is spinning
Counting his legs as I notice him grinning
Perhaps a dream that is just now beginning
I must be falling in love
Singing a song while the music is playing
Don’t know the words, I make up what I’m saying
Not really dancing but just sort of swaying
I must be falling in love
Running a race down a path that is bending
Seeking to finish, I know it is pending
Sweating so much it could be never ending
I must be falling in love
Chasing mosquitoes now constantly biting
Waving my arms like a windmill that’s fighting
Or like a group at a UFO sighting
I must be falling in love
Filling my cart with bananas while shopping
Cleaning the peels off the floor as I’m mopping
Sliding through red lights there’s no sense in stopping
I must be falling in love
Hitting a drum in a cadence that’s pounding
Played in a very nice rhythm, astounding
Just like a heartbeat in spring it is sounding
I must be falling in love
Writing a poem with words that I’m feeling
Every desire your beauty revealing
Asking your hand as I’m carefully kneeling
I must be falling in love
Now as I stare in your perfect eyes glowing
Feeling affection they’re constantly showing
Finding each day of my life I am knowing
With you I've fallen in love
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC