I know, I have been remiss (and missing in action) with my Thursday SODding, but hey, WordPress has reminded me how weird they are today:
He wasn’t really sure that robots had a happy place, but he was certain that if they did it wouldn’t have been getting stuffed into a huge chunk of fish fillet and chucked off the end of a boat into a pack of feeding sharks just so some scientist could attmempt to monitor his progress through the belly of the beast. Luckily, or not, he didn’t have long to philosophise about where his actual happy place might be, before he was swallowed up by the one of the sharks, who was definitely in his happy place crunching fish fillet flavoured with robots.
If you want to find out what SOD really means – read this post
WARNING: If you don’t like “toilet” humour (and I mean that literally) – move along now!
This verse has been nagging me to write it for days since the “visit”- so I finally gave in and decided to traumatise you all as well.
there’s a poo in my loo!
it had been well hid, till I lifted the lid,
and a poo in the loo,
when you go for a wee, is not something you want to see.
oh, that poo in the loo,
who left it there? and do I really care?
but the poo in the loo,
says they need a lesson, in remembering to push the button!
so the door to the room of the poo in my loo
now displays note, on which I wrote:
you left a poo in my loo –
next time don’t rush, and remember to FLUSH!
I skipped the visuals for this one – it just seemed the appropriate thing to do!
I counted all the years of we
then all the years of widow
and my world had tilted
the balance shifted
and so I cried.
I went a little mad today,
and vacuumed ‘neath the bed,
it’s not my normal housework style,
to clean what can’t be seen,
i’m more a fan of neat and tidy,
and a quick superficial clean.
but I’d bought a brand new vacuum,
– so I had to try it out –
it’s an upright, with a lift off can,
and a sucky spout!
so I used it on the skirting boards,
and then glimpsed beneath the bed.
oh, I know that I should do it,
much more often than I do,
but it’s such a major undertaking,
and ignorance is bliss,
until the carpet changes colour,
which is a sign that you can’t miss.
so I had to move my heavy bed,
and push it round the room,
I might have moved it ten times,
’cause in the end I just lost track,
and I suppose that it was worth it,
though i’ve gone and hurt my back.
So here there is a lesson,
if you’re just a bit like me,
do not buy a brand new vacuum,
and test it in your room,
and do not look beneath your bed,
else you might meet a dusty doom.
I desperately rack my brain trying to come up with a plausible story, the guilt making me feel sick with the taste of these not yet spoken untruths. “I lost track of time”, “It took longer to finish the (insert word of choice: shopping, appointment) than I expected” and “I’m meeting a friend for coffee” have been worn out too many excuses ago. Suddenly I’m tired of all the deception, the lip service of commitment and the half-hearted attention I have been paying to this relationship for too long. I make a silent vow to change my ways: I will devote more time to you; I will ignore the lure of this new love; I will speak the truth. So I do: “I have been unfaithful to my cleaning duty, but I promise I will not “Art” today and I WILL do the damn housework”. (Yet, even as I think it, I taste the sourness of lies).
I’m having an irky today,
I’ve been in my PJ’s all day,
I slouched to the couch,
when I got out of bed,
and here I shall probably stay.
I’m having an irky today,
it’s what happens when you are not,
as sick as you could be,
nor as well as you should be,
and you feel just a bit more than “off”.
So I’m having an irky today,
but I hope by tomorrow it’s done,
and that a good sleep tonight,
will put it to flight,
and the irky will then be all gone.
once i was young and lissome,
a tight bud of youth in my prime,
now I am crinkled and shrivelled
as happens to all in time.
once I had velvet complexion,
as soft as the dew of the dawn,
now life’s wear and tear is evident,
in a visage that looks tired and worn.
once all the youth surrounded me,
i was sheltered and shaded, and strong,
now all that freshness has faded,
and yet, some beauty lives on.
the fierce missing shatters my bones
the gravity of grief unraveling
exposing my marrow
stripping off layers.
and I have to regrow again
the skin and sinew of “now”
that holds me together.
you cannot see my scars, the silver lines that cover me,
head to toe, heart to soul, completely wrapped.
an irredescent netting, marking the breaking and the healing,
the threads of a new outer that constrain the broken.
I gathered them up and put them,
in a place they could be hid,
and just to make sure they couldn’t escape.
I covered them with a lid.
They are my sweetest treasures,
invisible to your eyes,
yet when I look upon them,
their richness makes me smile.
No thief in the night can steal them,
from the place that they are hid,
and when I am feeling broken,
I gently lift off the lid.
I am a bubble
a world of colour
memories swirl within
and I cling
to the outside
I am a bubble
delicate and fragile
yet strong enough
to hold on
I am a bubble
floating in the universe
blown by some others hand
until I land.