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!
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