The Vacuum Cleaner Ceremony

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    The Vacuum Cleaner Ceremony

    The ceremony it is a must.
    Once more i find, it`s inclined,
    the carpet is full of dust.


    My vacuum cleaner, springs to mind.
    The suction magic, to dust is tragic.
    Cleaning power we trust.


    Watching the dirt, disappear.
    With it`s awesome suck up thrust,
    to empty the bag it`s time again,
    the dust came out, covered my clothe`s.
    And look like they are covered in fust.


    A good brush down with smile and frown,
    neatness is returned.
    A nice clean carpet, and clean clothe`s,
    I sometimes gladly earned.


    The carpet so much better clean,
    the dust free scene, no one even a clue,
    To how big, the dust cloud has been.
    Even the tables after the dust down,
    a lovely well kept sheen.




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    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

    alanshaw164’s Poems (13)

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    The Lonely 0
    The Guard Dogs Lament 0
    Private and Confidential 0
    The Vacuum Cleaner Ceremony 0
    A Poets Rules 0
    The Chat 0
    The Warriors Speach 0
    The Chessmans Prayer 0
    Growing Up 0
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    Supermarket Shelving 0
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