I stare into the laundry,
remembering it’s my turn.
I don’t feel like breathing today.
White tshirt, black trousers, red lace panties.
I cannot help thinking
that there is no reason for us to be here.
I haven't done my homework yet.
My future is calling me.
Where’s the detergent?
My future home looks a lot
like my childhood bedroom.
Blue blouse, green socks,
Who would wear that shade of pink?
I am living with a thousand people in my head,
like an empty soul,
wondering where the Universe ends.
Give me a meaning,
I have tried stealing it but now
I’m handcuffed to a career.
I don't know what I want anymore.
Do you think I need softener?
I don’t know what to do with my pulse,
I mean, my life,
I mean, silk dress.
Do I air dry the bras?
Hang them with my dreams.
-
Author:
Andromeda (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 3rd, 2021 11:33
- Comment from author about the poem: Some days a pile of clothes hides thoughts. Sometimes it just hides dirty socks.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 35
- Users favorite of this poem: Garth Rakumakoe, spilleronsheet, A Boy With Roses, L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments6
Wonder how many people look out their office window and just wonder what the hell happened to them.
Honestly, you just defined my worst fear.
Very descriptive use of words.
Thank you
Very multilayered and reflective. Speaks to a lot of complexities through simple objects. If only detergents and softeners could purge and soften everyday worries and troubles. Absolutely stunning!
Maybe there is no cure for daily sorrows, but writing is admittedly the best remedy.
Thank you for your kind words.
Wow
what cleverly you crafted the lines
A ritual got such intense thoughts
A true poet
Hail and cheers 🥂 to you dear friend
And the last lines made me smile
Should I hang my dreams along
Well crafted dear poet
There's beauty surrounding us, hiding in corners and washing machines. I appreciate your lovely words dear friend.
Good words Meg, it is surprising from where we get our thoughts to put into words.
Andy
Thank you, Andy.
I guess we just have to find the interest in the mundane or we'll lose our minds.
Meg
'My future home looks a lot
like my childhood bedroom.'
'Give me a meaning,
I have tried stealing it
but now
I’m handcuffed to a career.'
(I laud, your dedication
the sheer respect and joy you have for your Art
to produce such a well considered and polished
nuanced work, of profound Poetry)
thank you! or choosing to share
your unquestionable
poetic genius, dear Poet
its a privilege to read your work
and learn
from your wordsmithing prowess
Your words are very much appreciated, I am beyond grateful for them.
Thank you, dear friend.
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