Doyen Lingua Poems
- An Ode To The Washing Machine From the time I was a ...
- Late One Night I'm writing a poem about writing...
- Gargoyle The gargoyle frowned with his permanent face and ...
- The Inner Game Of Tennis Love all. It starts in the ...
- River Stone Beaten ‘round its river home, the icy current ...
- On Determinism. I used to know a thing or two, back when ...
- Garbage Can My name is receptacle. I have an education: I...
Had too many glance and click away.
I thought you were here to find out:
my life story;
or why I write poetry;
or who is this person? ?
for anger or delight.
But those things, like tabloids and
stale chips for the unworked brain.
Dear, I do not want to bore
but poems I do not whore.
So read, read, read some more.
But do not ... more »
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An Ode To The Washing Machine
From the time I was a child
filled with curiosity and awe
I followed your rotation closely with my eyes.
Your magic must be hidden inside your metal box.
You stomp and shake about
and yell to those without.
Such violence with each slosh and thump, I wonder if you’re drowning.
But soon your tantrum resides
and my clothes are fresh... and damp.
No matter how I dirtied them, you scrubbed them clean.
You stand still, unmoved.
So long have you aided me. You never quit!
But now you’ve died, and I must buy anew.