The Laundry
I start the clothes
Then, finds some holes
In folds and soles
Then thinks
Or yells,
-‘Midst stinks
And smells-
“It’s time to switch up roles!”
Stay At Home Mothering Melancholia
Some days I sit or stand or write and sigh.
I feel the world; it turns without an I.
Yet stand I still and sigh as still I stand
And wonder at my world of self-made sand.
A day in ten, I’ll press against the glass;
See others, walking, smiling, talking past.
They wave; I raise a hand, a shy half-smile.
Some beckon; No, I say, to thoughts erstwhile.
I’ll stay and stand and sigh and write today;
I’ll watch and lift my mouth a twitch and wave;
I’ll cry and sift some sand from out’ the way;
I’ll forget this melanchol’ia. I’m okay.
Photo Credit
Nik MacMillan
Jules Marchioni
Chel Owens 
I hope you don’t mind me trying with perfect poem with me and the home.
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Go right ahead. 🙂
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I don’t know how mothers do it sometimes. Chin up honey, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. They can’t stay kids forever….
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Thanks, Violet. Only 18 more years….
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and 8 years from now when you are no longer allowed to enter their room or listen to their conversations you’ll be saying, “they grow up way too fast”.. life is like that.. all hurry up and wait.
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I know. It’s a tough job, though not tough like a nuclear mineshaft worker.
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Ah, the second poem… today I sat home with the melancholy, so I feel it!
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Sundays are the long dark tea time of the soul.
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It’s hard being a mom. I remember it so well – loving my kids with all my heart but feeling lonely too. And housework unfulfilling and endless, and writing so solitary. Your poems express that standing stillness perfectly.
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Thank you, D. I get out sometimes, but am always connected.
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