I can hear the rumble
Of metal on track
A far off tumble
As wheels clack
The ticket office closed
In 1982
Thrown out with lost property
A glove and a shoe
I wait on the platform
And look down the line
Your train is delayed
But I am on time
Passengers stare
They don’t say hello
But that’s because me
They, they don’t know
I see the lights distant
Your train it is here
I’m so glad you’re back home with me
My dear20140616-210732-76052035.jpg

Edgar Allen POEM

Emily Pankhurst can eat my shorts
A poem by Stegzy Gnomepants aged 34 1/2

I tidy up
I miss a bit
I paint the room
Looks like a dogs tit
I cook your dinner
You want to get thinner
I am the sinner
You are the winner
I vacuum the floor
There’s still dirt
Sweep and scrub
Until my arms hurt
I do things for us
That don’t earn a penny
But the things I do wrong
There are so many
Fill the dish washer
I miss a glass
Do the laundry
Your jeans still have grass
Stains and odours
Banished forever
Look I’ve done it
Aren’t I clever?
No I’m not
I’ve done it wrong
As youve told me
All a long
And so it goes on
Forever and a day
Unless I do it
Exactly your way
But even then
In the cold of night
I must admit
I can’t do anything right

Doing the Dishes:- A poem

A poem for the lovely goddesszero

Doing The Dishes

I stand and wash the dishes
The sink all filled with soap
I rinse the plates of fishes
With marigolds I will cope.

The mugs all brown with tannin
The spoons all grey with cream
The roasting dish all crusty brown
One wipe and they are clean

And so I turn to drying
Tea towel in my hand
I’ve got the cleanest dishes
From here to Sunderland.

Ah thank you