"hoovering" poems
The magnolia sways in front of leaded lights
And I lay here thinking that all this beauty
Is all that there is or ever will be, a sanctuary
Where nature blossoms and is freshly laden.
But we are fallen like the dragonfly on wing
Hoovering, waiting for another knat to ****
And as the carnivores devour their pray, daily
The human species, ruthlessly, turns over good
For another slice of the apple pie and so repeats
A cycle of never ending temptation baring thorn
With sadness I realise that I too wronged beauty
So mistaken in my haste for happiness and joy.
Love Mary **
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 6:42 PM UTC
A slice of toast,
burning on the grill.
A ghostly face,
the window pane,
terror running through the brain.
A shadow that was moving,
now is still.
Darkness hoovering the light,
and all that shun on Blackrose Hill.
Floorboards, creaking,
then they're not...............
Hiding in the pantry,
with a stomach tied in knots,
Churning, like butter in a ***
That old house on Blackrose Hill,
years since left to rot.
That old house on Blackrose Hill,
that old empty cot.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
I can't stop to chat
Sorry, I'm really busy
There's so much to do
I'm getting quite dizzy
Wallpapering, painting
And a whole lot of chores
Along with scrubbing and replacing
Handles on doors
Carpentry's enjoyable
A skill that I relish
But it tires me out
So for a break, I'll wish
Got a five minute break
Rush a quick cigarette
And a well-earned coffee
Then back off to work I set
Packing my boxes
And many a bag
Put them all in the attic
So tired, it's a drag
Hoovering all day
Kitchen needs cleaning
For the fourth time today
Then the garden needs preening
Make something to eat
To recharge energy
Sit down for a moment
With another coffee
Then it's time to go shopping
For food, drinks and more
Come back to yelling
As I walk through the door
"Mel, help me out!"
"Mel, pass me that!"
"Mel, clean the carpet...
The pup crapped on that!"
"Mel, make a coffee!"
"A sandwich might help!"
"Then get back to work!"
I can't help but yelp
Back to more painting
And scrubbing the halls
Cleaning the windows
And papering more walls
Then rest for a while
With a lovely big meal
To end the working day
And help muscles to heal
I'm aching all over
And I can't seem to sleep
So restless and sore
The job-pile's too steep
Toss and turn all night
I'm going insane
But I have to get up in the morning
And do it all again
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 8:28 AM UTC
i
I kind of knew
in the back
of my mind
that there was more
to come
ii
An urgent message
rings through the streets
"The Romans are at the gates!"
As soon as the news
reaches the house
giant catapults
start to pound the roofs
with rocks.
iii
Hoovering out
the cat hairs
scrubbing out
the loo
iv
The woman put her sad moon-face in
at the window of the car.
"You be good," she said.
"Yes, Momma," they said.
She slung her purse over her shoulder
and walked away.
v
Being James Bond
in miniature
is way cooler
than being a wizard.
vi
The park grew wild
and where we played football
the grass was torn
by the bombs
vii
At the time
everyone thought
that Elizabeth planned
to capture Mary.
viii
I'm so excited
I could burst
It's this cracking idea I've had
It's been worrying me away for weeks
It all started,
you see,
When I was showing some of my students
Where Greenland was on a map.
iix
Unbelievably,
the brown square
is identical
to the yellow square
ix
All us friends and relatives
are told to sit at the back
mind coats and bags
knowing our way
in the dark
x
Mum glared at Dad.
How many times
do I have to tell you
that the twins are called
James and Rebecca;
not Cheese and Tomato?
Granny shook
her head.
xi
The hard work
hopefully won't end
and we will stick together
no matter what
xii
Experimental
native style
knows
no boundaries
xiii
The fire detectors
are fitted
at regular intervals
along the tunnel
xiv
As an adult
Tarzan is once again
faced with the question of belonging
when he first meets humans
and discovers creatures
who look like himself.
xv
My heart misses a beat.
The girls have seen me
in my bikini.
They all gather around
looking and laughing at the sight.
How embarrassing!
It is a long way down.
Jan 11, 2012
Jan 11, 2012 at 11:34 AM UTC
The dragon saw me fly
Spread my wings in valour
Zipping across, beyond
Hoovering within and out
The bold red blood pumped
Showered zest and credence
Saw the springboard of the skies
Dreamt inside the beguiling clouds
Slept peacefully in a paradise
Forgot to guard from the fangs
******* in ripples of venoms
Gullible in the darkened scenes
Kidnapped and handcuffed on pillars
Chained in the unmoving conflicts
The chaotic shadowy cave stares
Dares to throw me in the deep pits
Fear is the only paralysis to fare
The pearls so outdated in efficacy
The bark of a feisty fighter diminishes
Love for humanity is the only key
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC
I'm waiting with certain trepidation
Assured my reality
Is in for something big.
The eleventh dimension
Can't assuage my dread.
There's something happening,
As big as Dead.
The cellphone's our new Nativity,
Destroying my old myths;
Where's the white salamander hurrying,
Spirits hoovering, aliens lurking,
Hairy bipeds in the forests,
Yetis in the snow.
Nothing soon forthcoming.
It all looks like Alberta.
I can't snap inside the sun,
Nor freeze-frame a revolution;
Or the moment one feels love;
But truth is self-evident.
And the facts are yet to come.
All the best stories,
My life-changing beliefs,
Need one still, a black and white will do;
Til then,
I'll suspend
Disbelief,
And sustain credence,
Close to the dark room.
Then we'll be the Magi,
Bowing, grovelling,
Awed and surprised.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 9:23 AM UTC
The droplets, becoming whole again,
as they became puddles, and grew closer.
It was silent,
Except
The conversation playing it’s trick on the mind, as text became voices.
Voices unheard like a quiet bubble, floating on a sea of unrest within.
In the silence,
As the unnoticed got heard,
A slight hint of inspiration returned.
Inspiration that was lost,
Just like the droplets on the glass,
Moving in randomness unaware of the outcome.
In the wind and rain,
In the deep darkness of the night,
It wasn't just the road that was drenched,
the mind was too.
Unaware,
Unsure,
Of what to make of all the webs that it fed.
Conversation ensured,
droplets met, puddles formed.
It wasn't just the water that was flowing any more,
This time,
It wasn’t just the rain that fell.
This time as smiles spread across,
It stayed, and spread.
It reached the mind, and enfolded them in its arms,
Hoovering memory,
Whisking them off the tip of their tongue.
In the silence of the night,
The voices of the mind.
The rain made puddles,
The memories…
THEM.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 7:48 AM UTC
Doronit would spit fire
and Baruch knew it
he'd had it before
that time she'd gave him
the hard time because
he'd sat watching
some dame
in a caravan opposite
hanging out washing
on a make shift line
fancy her do you?
Doronit said
why don't you go over
and chat her up
but Baruch told her
he wasn't interested
and that he was just
observing the washing
hanging process
looking at her smalls
I suppose?
she said
no he said he hadn't
but he had been looking
at the fine movement
of the dame's ****
but he never told
Doronit that
yes she'd spit fire
she'd lay the words on him
and that time
she saw this
other dame's name
in his note book
and when he came home
for lunch
she said
who's this then?
you having it off
with her?
Baruch told her
it was some dame
he was watching at work
all about
security and such
and she began
throwing stuff at him
shoes coat hangers knives
forks and spoons
whatever she could lay
her hands on and some
of it came down the stairs
like missiles
and he went up
and pinned her down
on the bed to calm her
and she relaxed
and said
was that all? no affair?
no
he said
no affair
nothing
just security
at work
and she smiled
and kissed him
and that was that
all over
fire spat and done
but this time
the fire
would be for real
and Baruch knew it
and he watched her go
about her work that day
hoovering dusting
cleaning the floor
and he waved goodbye
at the door
and never looked back
all over
no more fire
no more
Doronit had done it
for the last time
and he recalled her
that last moment
she with her cigarette smoking
her hair tied back
her eyes full
of dull fires
burning embers
and that is all
looking back
he remembers.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
it's come again,
just in time for christmas-
bitter weight that makes you want to scream
(you feel strangled by violin chords,
the sun burns but clouds stick in you
throat and choke you- you are
safest in the dark).
*block out the stars, God please don't
let them in- they're acid on your eyelids
and they* hurt
oh- this nameless monster.
they say it doesn't exist but then what
is this within you, all blunt fangs and
hoovering up your insides
(you're a walking vacuum,
about to collapse in on yourself,
and nobody can see).
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
I looked upon my world and i saw the brightness of the day.
A day where all things were crazy busy.
The washing billowed in the breeze.
The cats were milling.
The hallway needed hoovering ... again.
The children laughed with each other...
i know.. unheard of right !! :o)
And although the recycling still needs putting out
and the grass needs mowing .. still..
Contentment was mine.
I had looked upon my world and counted
every single blessing there was to be had.
There were so many that i ran out of both fingers and toes.
And i now know in my heart that i am happy.
I feel it.
Truly happy.
Whether i am destined to be alone for a while longer
or to meet with the one who smiles with me everyday
on the bus...
*We could go out for coffee and feed the ducks maybe..
Haha you never know :o) it could happen..!*
But.. i feel the contentment of my worlds simplicity.
And so, in my madly busy world i realised...
that after all this time of looking for happiness,
it was right here all along.
I had found it hidden in the the reality of the drudge to work.
The reality of mount washmore.
The reality of my tired bones at the end of a busy day.
The reality of my life, that i am truly grateful for.
I love love love the friends that i have been blessed with..
especially the ones who live in my phone <3
I love the kindness i find in the smile of a stranger.
The giving of hearts through desperate times.
The words of wisdom and of poetry
that i am privileged to read.
Pictures of sunshine and of flowers
from the dearest heart. <3
The gift of undeserved kindness..
that i had never felt before. <3
I look for it and i feel the love.. i feel it.
And even when the dog woofs at the postman fifty times.
And he leaves the gate open fifty one.
Even with the constant level of organised chaos
and cat hair..
Even with four hungry mouths
that own eight hollow legs.
Even when there is no coffee...
Yes, even then..
Even then...
I know it is the real life that i live that makes my heart sing
and gives brightness to my day.
And i am so very grateful for it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwUGSYDKUxU
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 10:18 AM UTC
because I was young
and beautiful
I thought I was
something;
boys lusted
girls admired
I had fun until
I grew tired
a wise old lady
with a smirk on her wrinkled face
pulled me aside
and put me in my place
she told me I was nothing without love
so I got out of her grandson's bed
to avoid tears;
I titled my head
when I came up there it was;
hoovering above
I realized, everything is nothing
until it finds love.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
spring is here...it's thick in the air
birds are singing.....bees are stinging
birds are chirping
woodpecker's are working
picking out bugs...there heads are hurting
owls are hooting up a storm....as they hunt for mice
out on the lawn
squirrels are begging like they do
pigeons dropping all there pooh
mosquito's are looking for there target
this means you.....your on the market
flowers will stand...oh so tall
till the deer come
in the fall
hawks are hunting...hoovering low
looking for any movement at all
they will dive down and grab there pray
looking as if...they want to pl;ay..
the brown recluse...is looking hard
for people working in the yard
he wants you bad...to inject you
with a little venom
to infect you....
snakes are out...will skip this verse
for me there is....nothing worse...
oh beautiful spring....wish you caould stay
and keep old man winter far away.....
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 10:18 PM UTC
From my cell window
the cloister garth
could be seen
the clock chiming
each quarter of an hour,
campana sonus
est vox Domini,
Dom Charles instructing
on apple picking
how to do and not to do,
George hoovering
the cloister
we used big brooms once
Hugh said dust
everywhere even using
sawdust and water,
she was naked
and we made love
on her sofa,
Dio parla nel lavoro
the Italian monk said
as I clipped the high hedge
by the church,
sing with silvery voice
the canticle of love
Therese said
(saint that is),
I tolled the big bell
for the Angelus
as shown by Dom James
last time,
Dieu est ici dans
votre cœur
the French monk
told me tapping his chest
as we stood in the cloister
waiting for Vespers,
she knelt down
and said take me wildly
so I did,
the impudence
of the sinner said Bernard(Saint)
displeases God
as much as the modesty
of the penitent
gives him pleasure,
I fingered the feet
of the Crucified
on the wall in my room
disturbing the dust,
hören Gott
the Austrian monk said
den er hört,
true happiness is to enjoy
the present without
anxious dependence
upon the future
said Gareth quoting Seneca
as we sat
in the refectory
before the abbot came in,
I kissed each
part of her
my lips
on her skin.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 2:23 AM UTC
Time flies by in the blink of an eye.
Love goes away before you knew it was even there.
Life goes by and we still don't know why.
A tear falls down my face whenever you walk by.
The hole in my heart rips bigger and bigger when hear the sound of your voice.
Yet, when I look at you with the hoovering darkness I see you frown, a tear go down. Is that a tear for me? or a tear for the yourself? A tear saying i miss you and I truly love you and know it now. Or is that a tear of selfishness, a tear of sadness and regret for yourself.? Are you regretting your decision to date me, to pretend to love me? Tell me now or tell me never.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
When you wake up to snow bleeding blue with slow footsteps crossing crisp in a glade of birdsong,
do you pull the blanket over your head refusing to wrestle your work clothes on?
When morning light clips off your dreams and pours into the dorm room,
do you Cujo snarl for night?
When the 2 a.m. train whistle whips over the foggy dew night and the swing sets jingle for bodies,
do you ache to ride for free?
Somewhere else.
Some place else.
Hoovering on the border of perceptions.
Where no money doesn't ******* matter.
Who gives a **** about what kind of car you drive?
How many tricks you can do with your talking *******
I really don't give a ****
How much **** you have does not impress me.
I want to know what makes you moan when you're alone tossing and turning on a rain dog night as you wonder about the hidden moon in your heart and why it's taking so long to come back out.
I want to listen to the boiling water spill over in your head and watch you evaporate under hidden light.
I need to see you dance on a bluff of your best memory as the sea spray roars up something primal inside you.
I have to hear your questions zip across the tree's like a bluebird who still visits you on your shoulder.
I want to catch your tears before they fall off your chin and bless them.
I want to be stabbed by a million falling stars flashing behind your eyes and be changed by each one.
I want to meet your devil, invite him in for dinner and have a few laughs over some wine and sushi.
One day I woke up and the entire sky looked like a blueberry.
I felt it sneak inside to smear me and I didn't know how to write or talk about it.
In fact, I still don't.
Some times when I read poetry it makes me feel invincible,
as if the truth is stronger than any Government,
and
the light of words
rush down
in a captivating avalanche
of power,
and
instead of burying me
I swear I can touch
every star ever made
as it fills me
with an ocean of light
connecting me back
to the heavenly place
we all ache for.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC
It was a sad day in May when you went away.
Sadder In June when you came home to soon.
July flew by, followed by a Lawyers letter, infidelity, such a cruel word.
August, your sister left, stating it was probably for the best. I had to agree, it was always about you, never me.
September, gave you a call, the phone was answered by some guy called Paul. Hated him from the start, he said hello, so condescending, how did he know.
October, you walked in as the au pair was hoovering in the **** I have to say, your timing is lousy, couldn’t you phone, the au pair has left in despair, not that you would care.
November, nice couple came to view the house, she asked if she could come back later to measure up. She measured up just fine, so, new curtains, new girlfriend.
December, she went back to her man, citing cruelty to dumb blondes. I think women just take me for a ride, I’m to good natured, hard to decide.
January, I’ve made a resolution, going to change my ways, actually feeling quite good, time to give the good lady a call. She’s engaged to Paul. What the hell, have I been asleep, found the letter on the floor with the others marked bore, I could have swore.
Feb I’ve grown a beard, adds a bit of sophistication to a man of endears. Tried you on the phone, I only asked where my blades were, no need to moan.
March It’s your birthday, I send you a card. All my forgiveness, from the heart. You respond in haste, and may I add, in really bad taste., I ******* hate you. well.
April They’ve come to take the house, I see your sister opening the gate, a friendly face. She owns the company, well isn't that great.
May I’ve had a really bad year and then some, pain does that to a man, it’s hard to explain. I suppose the moral of the May when you went away leaving me to play, is the **** month of June, when you came home to soon. So anyway, her and Paul got married, I sort of gave her away, asked her sister if she wanted a date. What a ****** response.
Not if all the months were May.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
While I wait for the kettle to boil and whistle its merry tune
I'll toil away like a sucker
hoovering up dust in my room.
I'd rather be watching Wimbledon
seeing for myself what's going on,
but I never paid the electric bill,
Still,
the room did need some cleaning.
When I get to get to five o-clock and the shadow comes, I knock back a couple of hot spiced rums before I begin to shave.
Generally I save the best 'til last and usually when I run out of
'Elastoplast'
(that's a trade name I wear on such occasions)
blood casts its own shadow and wanders through the water in the sink,
and I watch the shapes that it makes
until my eyes ache.
take a break?
nice if you can,
but I'm a
hard working
harder pressed man
so
i carry on
not watching Wimbledon
and waiting for five
to arrive.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 10:40 AM UTC
Manipulated by a pursasive tongue
Ignorance that crowds a clear mind
Savagely hoovering on your prey
Egotistically having multiple personas
Ruthless to an innocent soul
You
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
After Terce,
I walked the cloister,
sunlight on the garth,
flowers brilliantly alive,
sounds of Latin
still in my ears,
I made my way
to the Novice's room,
and sat with three others
and Dom Joseph,
timetable of the day,
he said,
I saw the browny eyes
of one novice light up,
chestnuts eyes,
bright in the sun's light,
you, Gareth,
the cloister needs
sweeping(hoovering),
she said,
putting her hand
on my pecker,
this is some tool,
and you George,
assist in the library
to help sort
new books just arrived,
Dom Joseph gazed at Hugh,
you may assist in the gardens,
need help with vegetables,
she drew me to her,
warm, the perfume of her
exploding about my ears,
and you Benny,
assist in the kitchen
with Dom Patrick,
prepare soup,
sweep the refectory,
Dom Joseph said,
nodding his head,
his scrumptious lips
breaking into his smile,
now the prayer,
he said,
we closed eyes,
I will **** you dry,
she said laying there,
completely bare,
sunlight blessed
George's head,
ray of light,
touched upon
his thinning hair,
amen,
Dom Joseph said,
and so to tasks
and to work is to pray
don't forget,
he said,
and she lay there
her pale legs
wide spread
on her unmade bed.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
I touched
the wooden choir stall
as I entered
the abbey church
felt the smoothness,
tactus Dei,
Dom Joe walked me
to the sacristy and said
help Dom Charles
he will show you
what he wants doing
and remember
it is God's work
you do,
habitavitque
in domo Dei,
George was hoovering
the cloister getting
into the corners
with a dedicated skill,
always do
the smallest right
and do it for love
Therese said
Faire le plus petit droit
et le faire pour l'amour,
I did it because
I was asked and even
when Dom Charles
was so finicky
I did it,
kiss this she said
he will not do so
so I did,
the abbey bells rang
while I walked back
to the abbey
from the gardens
carrying the apples,
prunelle de mes yeux
the girl in
Paris had said that time
but was I?
le monde est ton
vaisseau et non ton foyer
Therese said so I read
a ship not a home
this world,
Gareth cleaned out
the latrines
on all floors
beginning is the most
important part of work
he said quoting Plato
but he in the Greek,
she knelt on the bed
and said
take me take me
so I did so quite slow,
en silence Dieu
nous parle
the French monk said
as we stood
in the cloister garth
sipping afternoon tea,
I smelt incense
as I waited
for the office of None
to begin and watched
the birds dive
into the cloister garth
for the bread thrown down
by the old monk,
feel Him there
Dom James said
speaking of God's being,
I looked at the moon
and lost Him
for all my seeing.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 4:01 AM UTC
This is the ash
of my life.
It is yours.
Thank you for
your hoovering
You are welcome
to this dust.
This is the ash
this is the ash
of my love.
It is yours
please treat it
gently.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
I wish I hadn't played Bowie that night
In your kitchen - he was yours after all
But Mum, I was only dancing
And at least it wasn't Wonderwall
I know you really loved it -
The incessant guitar and drippy vibes
I kicked a ball about too
And sang Teen Spirit once or twice
The funny thing is, the irony is over
I didn't self-combust or spend empty
Wednesdays digging old boys' graves
Or rent a fleapit from the 1970s
I did, however, sleep too much,
I wasn't as clever as I thought
I wrote doggerel and this 'poem' too
And mostly dreamt while the tough lads fought
Trouble is, you're not here to see
A human girl interested in me,
Or my driving round the old town
I'd pray you could, but I'm not aged three
You no longer have to iron my shirt
Or lend me a lift from school
You needn't change my room around
Or gently persuade me to follow rules
If angels can reach back down to Earth
You might wanna honour one of my wishes
I'm useless at hoovering - a real pet hate,
But I swear I got better at the dishes
© Copyright David Bosworth May 2023
May 17, 2023
May 17, 2023 at 5:15 PM UTC