Spin.....Dried
dishes clash in the the sink
goodbyes echo down the hall
coffee cold with crusted milk
a story retold each new day.
laundry loaded to the top
hot wash cold rinse
colors whites must separate
turn nob permanent press heavy load.
endless repartition of my life
endless
endless
buzzer sounds wash done load again.
each day caught in a web spins out my blood
in empty coffee cups left cold
ringing dry my every thought
till numb when final rinse cycle is done.
EveryWomansVoice.com
4 comments:
i cannot believe this is all there is,, and yet,, i have lived long enough to know,, there is no more... you tell it well in this piece... i do think there very well be a typo in line one tho... forgive me if i am wrong....
Oh, how often I have felt like this. Laboring in repetitious chores. Feeling like a drone.
Well Written!
housework, chores, laundry...they are over-rated! i'd much rather sit and write poetry!
Ah, yes..
"A thought walks in, asks
and what of life?
“..aging, sea change, choosing”
always choosing
one more Dutch door
then drifting, drifting
toward another endless chore.."
how life resembles one long, endless chore.. I like the drone, monotone treatment you've given this poem, Beloved Dreamer...:) And may I say, Welcome to the I Promise blogroll! Nice to have you aboard..:)
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