ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

My polysyllabic attempt...

One way trip

I’ll tell you my version, not just a diversion,
A tale of lost tools told by all farming wives.
It seems our vocation: to lose the location,
of objects that vanish each day from our lives.

I would, with precision, then make the decision
to clear the detritus from under the bed.
My broom has departed, we’ll always be parted,
it’s found a new home, sweeping wool in the shed.

I’d grow a carnation, but where in darnation
are garden forks, shovels and wheelbarrows found?
I’m nearly demented, my barrow’s cemented
to firmly refasten the fence in the ground.

My weight checked biweekly, or sometimes triweekly,
the scales in the bathroom are squeakily clean.
But I get despondent, my husband’s respondent
when lambs he has weighed leave their muck on the screen.

I want some resumption, not just a presumption,
that “borrowing” things for the shed does no harm.
Oh for some retention, I can’t give detention
when tools don’t return from a trip to the farm.

I’ve found a solution to rustic pollution,
to cow pats and horse dung and droppings and grit.
My garden’s deserving, so I’ll be preserving
as compost the only returns I get… manure.

Robyn Sykes (c) 2012

Oh never Robyn never a man always returns what he uses !


EVENTUALLY !!!!



Cheers Bob

Yes Bob but women's patience doesn't extend to five years

Know exactly where you are coming from Robyn with this one. Enjoyed reading it, though the reminder renewed the angst

Cheers

Maureen

I like that Robyn. even though it can't be true.

Thank you Bob, Maureen and Neville for your replies.
Bob I'm sure what you say is true, with Maureen's proviso ringing true!
And Neville, a question for you to ponder... what is truth? If a poem illustrates a genuine point, does every word have to be true?
Cheers
Robyn