Home Life Poetry

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!”

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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.

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Photo Credit
Nik MacMillan
Jules Marchioni

The Inside Story

I love order. I live with a Grumbling Mind Monster, who views the havoc of the house and complains constantly. Sometimes he is a niggling whisperer; but other times he yells so loud that I, in turn, yell at everyone around me to DROWN OUT HIS VOICE!

Inside of me is a Tease. She impishly skips around, looks at the organized disdainfully, then tosses her head to prove she doesn’t care. Often, she is a small suggestion of silliness or a wry, satirical response. Other times, she plots disruption and kicks me out of the house to do anything but be stuck straightening.