Crumpled Blouses and Dusty Houses

[Stephen Whiteside]

Crumpled Blouses and Dusty Houses

A writer's life leaves little time
For dull domestic chores.
She is searching out a rhyme,
Besides, such duty bores;
Washing cups and chasing grime,
And sweeping dirty floors.

Dusty houses,
Dusty houses,
Dusty houses and
Crumpled blouses.

Bed's for sleep, so some might say.
A writer won't agree.
Of course, she'll write throughout the day,
But then, erratically,
'Tween bed and desk she'll make her way,
Scribbling frantically.

Crumpled blouses,
Crumpled blouses,
Crumpled blouses and
Cranky spouses.

Food scraps gather on the bench.
Who will do what's needed?
Husband's built for spanner, wrench.
Pleas all go unheeded.
He might curse her for a wench.
Rodents soon are feeded.

Cranky spouses,
Cranky spouses,
Cranky spouses and
Rats and mouses.

She is published. He is gone,
A tale we know so well.
He thinks marriage is a con.
She enjoys her spell.
That's the way life mooches on.
Heaven, then, or Hell?

Rats and mouses,
Cranky spouses,
Crumpled blouses...and
Dusty houses.

Stephen Whiteside 21.03.2013

[Maureen K Clifford]

You been peeking through windows round my way Stephen?

Rats and mice aren't a problem Ellyssa deals with them

What a great poem though seriously - I reckon it would probably be a good fit with a few of us. Laughed at this verse

She is published. He is gone,
A tale we know so well.
He thinks marriage is a con.
She enjoys her spell.
That's the way life mooches on.
Heaven, then, or Hell?

Is that a common denominator do you think?

Enjoyed the read

Cheers

Maureen

[Stephen Whiteside]

Right on, Maureen! Thanks.

[warooa]

Good one Doc.

Marty

[Stephen Whiteside]

Ta.