Tag Archives: washing machine

Murisopsis’s poetry scavenger hunt prompt #12: Write a Jay’s Way or a poem using a bird metaphor. I’m keenly aware that discontent with one’s washing machine is small in the scheme of things, although I really miss my old front-loader (today’s larger models won’t fit in the space we have), and the lint I reference is a lot, and it just makes me want to go waaaahhhh.

a trough of despond
small sorrows
I can’t see beyond

I’m missing how things were–before covid, before my parents died, before a lot of other changes that have taken place in my/our world. Peace to our ♥s!

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Remembrance of Things Past

Pathetic,
to miss a washing machine:
top loader, front loader, both get the clothes clean,
but the lint on the screen is more now,
and I don’t care how
there are loads
of abodes
where women handwash
and air-dry day in, day out. By gosh,
I’m tired of adjusting! There’s been too much change,
mixed feelings to rearrange.
I’m homesick.

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Green Bowl
Yellow Bowl
Red Bowl
Blue

I don’t
forget
Dad bought
the set

at my
behest
per Mom’s
request

for bowls
with lips
to catch
the drips.

Though I’m
now grown
and long
since flown

they still
provide
a sense
of pride

because
(well done!)
I was
the one

the little bird
who told him.