The Ironing Pile

Weeks upon weeks,

Fold after fold,

Creases and “Jesus”,

Jack and the beanstalk.

 

A huff in the morning,

A puff by noon,

A sigh in the evening

and the pile another two inches high.

 

It’s a task, a farce,

Who needs neatness anyway?

Yet I cannot bear the sight

any longer, this mountain to climb.

 

I thought a nap might help

Or defeating the pile of cups and plates,

There it remains,

Ugly and lavender fresh.

 

Denial and domestic disillusionment reign

but perhaps if I write about it,

I’ll actually tackle the pain.

 

_______________________

Day 19 – Imagine yourself doing any household task/chore, then write a poem using what you’ve imagined as an extended metaphor for writing.

Day 18 – Library Lesson

_______________________

For the challenge, click here.

5 thoughts on “The Ironing Pile

  1. Sidharth says:

    Enjoyed reading this lovely piece of poetry. Thanks for sharing! According to your convenience please do read some of my writings as well, would love to know what you think about them 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

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