Laundry Spirits
Laundry spirits all around
Stealing things without a sound
When I hang my washing out
Something missing there’s no doubt
An odd sock here an odd sock there
Drives me almost to despair
I wonder if in days gone by
Did my great gran have this, if not why?
Is my washing machine possessed?
Eating socks I do not jest
Doesn’t matter where I look
There’s certainly a mysterious spook
So laundry spirit in the sky
Please give me a reason why
A pair of socks I can understand
But just for one what is your plan?
I’m buying socks that look the same
So I can make up pairs again
So I will have one fewer grey hair
And stop you driving me to despair
08 03 2009
Chellaston
poem by Jim O'Donnell
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Related quotes
So I Hop
I look for a pair of socks.
But I can only find one sock.
I can not put both feet in one sock!
So I hop!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tomorrow is the laundry day
Tomorrow is the laundry day
Though tomorrow’s bright and sunshine strikes
Seduce you to play outside
But duty must be priority
Washing the dirty to be clean again
And your day will feel light
After you do that
Tomorrow is the laundry day
Though tomorrow’s cloudy and can’t stop rainy
Bother you with damp laundry
But duty is duty
Washing the dirty so it won’t be stinky
And your day will be bright
After you do that
Tomorrow is the laundry day
Though your laundry is already loaded
And you don’t want to see or touch
But duty must be completed
Washing the dirty so it ready to be used
And your day will feel more comfortable
After you do that
Tomorrow is the laundry day
Though your heart grumbles “Later”
No, do not listen that lazy one
Duty is to be worked not be grouch
Washing is a fun job if your heart happy
And your day will be victory
After you do that
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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I Turned You On
I turned you on
Now I can't turn you off
I turned you on
Now I can't turn you off
What a good, good feeling
A great sensation oh you and me baby
A good combination
Sock it to me, sock it to me
Sock it to me, sock it to me
Baby I started but I can't stop
I admit that I started baby
Oh but I can't stop it
What a good, good feeling
A great sensation oh you and me baby
A good combination
Sock it to me, sock it to me
Sock it to me, sock it to me
And get it George
Oh I turned you on sock it to me
Sock it to me, sock it to me
I turned you on
But I can't turn you off
Baby I said I turned you on
But I can't turn you off
Come on girl light my fire
Set me a little bit higher wooh
Round and round and up and down we go
Where we gonna stop baby nobody knows
Sock it to me, whip it to me
Give it to me, sock it to me
Sock it to me
song performed by by Isley Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode to My Socks
Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder's hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as if they were two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,
Violent socks,
my feet were two fish made of wool,
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.
They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit firemen,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.
Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
keep fireflies,
as learned men collect
sacred texts,
I resisted the mad impulse to put them
in a golden cage and each day give them
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers in the jungle
who hand over the very rare green deer
to the spit and eat it with remorse,
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
the magnificent socks and then my shoes.
The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Portis and Coco
Where the hell are my socks?
I have no more
Portis and Coco
are at it again
all are torn, I can't wear them
Portis, the pit
Coco the Shepoo
playing tug of war
with my socks
so it's back to the store
I'ts never enough
to play with a toy
they still get the joy
for some reason, to sniff with my jocks and
tear up my socks
poem by Matt Mondschein
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But Don't Despair
Despair, if you must –
But how's it going to pull you through?
Despair, when you trust
Naught since then there's naught to do.
Despair, should you thrust
Aside your pride, your self-esteem.
And so despair, if it's dust,
The only substance that you deem.
Despair, when a gust
Of slightly breeze can break your stance.
And do despair, when lust
Is your interpretation of romance.
But don't despair, if you can care
About the plight of any other being.
And you can focus on the help,
Support, and altruistic further actions
For the seeing. Be believing,
As despair will start receding
All around – simply since you found
A way to steer you clear
From this: the very cause of your despair!
So give to others; give them all a helping lift:
Despair, you'll find will disappear –
And that has got to be a well-deserved
And saintly gift!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Rain of despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Put a Sock In It
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Many getting sick of the pickiness started.
And when it gets sticky they can not stop.
Instigating agitation with annoyance.
Dropping all they've got to tie a mind in knots.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Can't you see them strike poses and begin to 'cheese'.
Then plop on their knees,
To make their pleas.
These same folks cry about bad luck.
With claims their butts are stuck in ruts.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Folks have had enough,
And fed up!
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Folks have had enough,
And fed up!
Folks have had enough.
Folks have had enough.
Folks have had enough.
And fed up!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That child in me
Just like any other child, I never experienced being brought to school by a nanny.
My family couldn’t provide me one.
Just like any other child, I never experienced being fetched by a chauffer.
My father could not afford any.
Just like any other child, I never experienced being prepared a lunch box for my snack.
Nothing was there to prepare anyway.
Just like any other child, I never had a bag of my own.
What I had was a plastic bag that could accommodate all my belongings.
Just like any other child I never had good shoes to wear.
I got broken slipper; sometimes, none.
Just like any other child, I never had a good pair of socks.
An old pair of Boyscout knee socks is all I got
Just like any other child, I never had a uniform for my school.
Well, I inherited two faded ones from my grade six cousins.
Just like any other child, I was never allowed to go out camping in school.
No one could provide me the things to bring.
Just like any other child, I was never allowed to participate in any school games.
I was too thin to play any games
Just like any other child, going to school without breakfast became a habit.
Not because no body’s preparing it for me but because there really is nothing to prepare.
Just like any other child, I can hardly pay for my school tuition fees.
My mom barely had enough money after she does the neighbor’s laundry.
But unlike any other child, I never quit.
I never quit! I never quit!
poem by Edgar Rendon Eslit
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Yeah I Hate You Too!
Our life
was like
two marbles
in a box
chipped...cracked
that a child
forgot
or the bric-a
-brac down the back
of a sofa
a hairy half-sucked humbug
an out-dated coin
an earring that wasn't mine
we are socks
from the washing machine of life
always one missing
two odd pieces
of jigsaw
not even from
the same box
it was a puzzle
why we ever
got or stayed together.
Who knows
maybe I loved
to hate you
just like you
hated
to love me
but you did
& I did
so we did.
Guess we're in this
together
forever.
Oh...Happy Anniversary
... lover!
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Your Thing
It's your thing
Do what you wanna do
I can't tell you
Who to sock it to
It's your thing
Do what you wanna do now
I can't tell you
Who to sock it to
If you want me to love you, maybe I will
I need you woman, it ain't no big deal
You need love now, just as bad as I do
Make's me no difference now, who you give your thing to
It's your thing (It's your thing)
Do what you wanna do
I can't tell you
Who to sock it to
It's your thing (It's your thing)
Do what you wanna do now
I can't tell you
Who to sock it to
It's your thing (It's your thing)
Do what you wanna do
I can't tell you
Who to sock it to
I'm not trying to run your life,
I know you wanna do what's right,
Ah, give your love girl, do whatever you choose,
How can you lose, with the stuff you use?
It's your thing (It's your thing)
Do what you wanna do
I can't tell you
Who to sock it to
It's your thing (It's your thing)
Do what you wanna do
Don't let me tell you
Who to sock it to
Let me hear you say it's my thing (It's your thing),
I do what I wanna do......
song performed by by Isley Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Because my socks were wet
That day, when clouds were frowning
And the ants and the antelopes were drowning
The almighty deciding to have a bath
And the rooftops feeling the sky’s wrath
I got a bad ache in head
Allowing me to stick to my bed
When it went indispensable
I moved towards my table
Hoping to see some help
I made a small yell
Deciding by myself then to buy a tablet
But I couldn’t have my shoes because my socks were wet
Yes, that day the master of hell had a laugh
To see my condition so rough
…Because my socks were wet
Someone I had to meet the other day
The sun was shining by my bay
I ran towards the stop but was late
I had stepped into a ditch and my socks went wet
Yes the devil smirked again
As he found his ultimate gain
…because my socks were wet
Once visiting my god’s place
“Temple” they call it in general phrase
We had a long chat
Impressed by my ballad
He decided not to let me go
He contacted his biggest foe
Arrangements were made
Plans were laid
When I bid my goodbye
He smiled and just sighed
My shoes were stolen from his portal
He just wished me to be mortal
I ran, and ran in haste
It rained heavy that eve and made my run a waste
The two geniuses partied and partied till late
…because again my socks were wet
poem by Anurag Chaudhary
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I Can Feel...
she said:
'you're not a poet,
you're just an old man...
old hat, old beard,
even your socks are old! '
'yes, and my socks
are full of holes...
when i walk across
the bare floor i can feel...'
and therein lies
the poetry!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sappy
And if you say your prayers
You will make God happy
And if you do whats true
You will make me happy
Ill keep you in a jar
And you will seem happy
Ill give you breathing holes
You will think youre happy, now
Youre in a laundry room
Youre in a laundry room
Youre in a laundry room
And if you save yourself
You will make him happy
Hell bring you fine rewards
Then you will feel happy
Ill keep you in my room
Im sure youll be happy
And if you save your soul
You will think youre happy now
Youre in a laundry room
Youre in a laundry room
Youre in a laundry room
Youre in a laundry room
Early version of sappy.
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sock
It was early one morning
When I heard something horrible close by snoring
There, on the floor by my bed I could see
A long dark strange shape, mouth open staring at me
I had to hold my nose the smell was so foul
And as I wondered what it was, it gave a growl
So quickly I grabbed a pillow and threw it hard
Only to miss it by more than a yard
This thing was fast that's for sure
Like lightning it moved to hide behind the door
To my surprise I soon discovered
That this thing was an animal like no other
I was indeed put in a state of shock
When I identified this terrifying animal as my sock
A sock that I had worn for many weeks
And had lost but not washed and badly reeked
How I was going to catch this rodent sock I had no idea
So sat in bed thinking until it disappeared
When there was no sign of the sock to be seen
I decided quickly to prepare the washing machine
Set to ‘intensive' and with lots of soap
I waited patiently and in hope
For sooner or later the sock must appear
Drawn by curiosity and the smell of cheese and cheap beer
Sure enough I hadn't needed to wait long
For the trap was set using a cheese and beer smelling thong
It rushed around the corner and into the machine
And I quickly slammed the door and set it on clean
After two hours of being tumbled washed and dried
I took the poor fellow out who was more dead than alive
Now weeks later I'm pleased to show
Everything is back to normal as I wear my thong outside my pants wherever I go
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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One Of Those Days
I open my eyes another day is here
The sun's already high
Can not recall just what I was dreamin'
But I'm sure I can catch the reprise somehow
Piles of dirty socks just everywhere
I don't feel like washing up today
Somehow I really just don't care
I think I'll stay in bed all day
This is one of those days when I'll do just not a thing
Lazing 'til the hour's late then maybe I'll sleep just a little wink
I know that breakfast can wait until later
I don't have anything but the dish in the kitchen
Nothing to read nothing's on the TV
Everyone's on vacation can't say that I miss 'em
This is one of... ::
song performed by by Quorthon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Notes To An Amnesiac
memories are made of these
Your keys
Odd socks left on the washing line
names on a list in a book
You cannot find
That lost glove
Pushed under the carpet
Or the note you wrote about your lover
Before you ever met or even touched
And the television is turned to neutral
As you listen
And unlisten
To the radio in your head
Your dinner is left congealed
Your books dusty and unread
The puzzle
Full of words you no longer understand
The alien has landed in a foreign land
Memories are made of these
The keys you lost
The odd socks
The lists full of lists left behind
And you feel like you 're losing your mind
Forgetting it all as you go to the door
Leaving the keys on the side
Dropping a glove in the floor
Losing the name of the street where you live
Forgetting what you're living for!
poem by Yvette Smith
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One Person Can Live Alone
Two people can live under one roof,
Sleep in the same bed.
And produce a house full of children...
To 'still' claim after many years,
Not to know what the other one does.
What their hobbies are, if any.
Or communicate.
But their lives live together works out.
One person can live alone.
Love the peace and quiet.
Enjoy every aspect of life.
But...
Can not match a pair of socks,
After washing and drying a bundle of clothes.
And,
Can stay angry all day 'thinking' about it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dirty Laundry
I make my living off the Evening News
Just give me something-something I can use
People love it when you lose,
They love dirty laundry
Well, I coulda been an actor, but I wound up here
I just have to look good, I don't have to be clear
Come and whisper in my ear
Give us dirty laundry
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em all around
We got the bubble-headed-bleach-blonde who
comes on at five
She can tell you 'bout the plane crash with a gleam
in her eye
It's interesting when people die-
Give us dirty laundry
Can we film the operation?
Is the heir dead yet?
You know, the boys in the newsroom got a running bet
Get the widow on the set!
We need dirty laundry
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're stiff
Kick 'em all around
Dirty little secrets
Dirty little lies
We got our dirty little fingers in everybody's pie
We love to cut you down to size
We love dirty laundry
We can do "The Innuendo"
We can dance and sing
When it's said and done we haven't told you a thing
We all know that Crap is King
Give us dirty laundry!
song performed by by Lisa Marie Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You 'Were' Looking For Your Shoes
I can not find my socks.
Who misplaced them?
And why are they not in my sight?
'Grandpa? '
WHAT IS IT! ?
'I've spotted your socks.'
Okay.
Then where are they?
'Grandpa...
They are on your feet.'
Oh.
Well...
Who put them there?
'You did grandpa.
Just before you said,
You 'were' looking for your shoes.'
What are you trying to say?
You know where they are too?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Washing Machine Albeit So Weird
I do not trust the long rinse and spin cycle of the
washing machine, loud and insane, scrunch up
the washing, making careful hanging to obviate
ironing impossible; I always interfere in rinsing-
spinning since washing machines have been
designed by demons bent on torturing humans
My distrust of all kinds of machines; except my
adorable laptop who takes every word it is fed
and returns it to me in the script I like; led to my
never using a dishwasher, an evil device that
runs in unfathomable cycles driving me crazy
with uncertainty about objects and motives
And degree of cleanliness; therefore I turn the
kitchen radio to Radio Pretoria (because they
play German music, the bedroom radio stays
tuned to FM Classic, TV alternating between
Nat Geo Wild and Deutsche Welle while the
big screen TV remains on sports channels)
And wash the dishes by hand; - I forgot to
add detergent when washing Tiaan’s dusty
clothes two washes ago, somehow I hold an
irrational belief washing should require little
detergent if any– and the washing machine
did not remind me – hah! – point is
While it is impossible to wash by hand, my
wrists go numb as I scrub and twist - the
washing machine is a strange invention
that refuses to wash in a way I can
understand - but I shall always use
it, albeit so weird…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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