Cleaning

Poetry is such an interesting format of writing. If written well, even the most dullest of subjects can become interesting. Here is a poem I wrote the first time my sister went to Australia back in 2007. Hopefully you will agree reader that the topic of cleaning is far from being dull!


Cleaning

Dull work for a dull day
I think as I drag myself upstairs.
I look at my room, I don’t know what to say!
All I see is junk, paper, and teddy bears.

I make a start on my sister claires bed.
Thank god she's in Australia, I sigh,
God only knows what curses she'd have said
If she could see all my clothes dumped a mile high!

Into my drawers and wardrobe my clothes go,
neat and tidy as I possibly can.
Trinkets on shelves and hidden in places only I know,
And find photos of sunny places and me with a tan.

I start to tackle boxes of folders and books,
Amazed at some of the things I find inside.
My mam arrives, looks around and gives me dirty looks,
And starts to drag things from boxes where claires things hide.

In fits of anger and frustration I throw
out old memories too hurtful to forget,
Displayed in stilled images, in faces I know,
Faces of people I sometimes wish I’d never met.

Under my bed I go and investigate.
Been about a year since I last had a glance.
I drag out things I kept and forgot I hate,
The hoarder in be blushes at the chance.

How half the things I find managed to remain
so long with out seeing darkness of the bin!
So dumped they get, and so I dump the pain
Of bad memories of friends and life and sin.

Tired and sweaty, a head full of dust,
I stroll down the stairs for a cup of tea.
Bags of rubbish and memories that I must
throw away, thankfully praying shall I never again see.

Goodbye old material memories I hoarded throughout life,
I hope some of my mind will also be free of strife.

Niamh Anne King 13/07/2007