I was never happier than when
my house was full of men:
Bulky torsos lurking behind doors;
Legs shooting out from undersink cupboards;
Drilling, banging, masonry dust;
Deletives, swearing -
And male politesse:
Picking up the little girl's hair scrunchee,
and patting her fondly on the head
with their rough and ready palms:
Such softies, really...
The analysts would have a field day,
but I was mortified when,
after six months, they were gone;
I'd sit dismally and count
the empty mugs on the table,
waiting in vain to be filled.
No more games with the hard hats,
up the ladder to the roof;
Nor the Friday afternoon
"Look-busy-for-the-inspecting-Gaffer" ritual.
No one to look after the two-year old
whilst you pop to the post office,
or to zip you into your little black dress
when you're off to an old lady's funeral...
It took months to finally get rid of
all the debris that the builders
left behind:
Your power with the written word brings this poem vividly to life, one the reader sees unfolding before their eyes! A smile comes to the lips, you can almost hear the wistful sighs of rapturous enjoyment when they experience your words! Well done!
Sounds like fond memories and I'm sure you were y=the sweetest little two year old that most men couldn't resist hugging and giving sweets to in a loving gesture. Brings back impressions of Shirly Temple.
Little Black Dress for a funeral. You little tinker. And getting the builder to zip you in - well that is just sadistic. You know what builders are like.
This was a pleasure from beginning to end.
best
Ian
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on January 20, 2005
No more games with the hard hats,
up the ladder to the roof;
Did they sing YMCA, and in the Navy?
You've a great memory. Should the second word be "AM?"
Nice one Kanoodiling Kate
Reviewed by Joshua Miller (Reader)
Reviewed on January 20, 2005
Notwithstanding the lovely thought of a house full of men, this is an exceptional piece of writing Kate. Each time I visit your den I am taken aback by the depth and color of your work. Keep going strong Kate!
Kate, this is delightful and lonely at the end. I had a similar experience toward the end of my first marriage. The men gave me attention. When they look under the sink, do you see what we see in America? Not a pretty sight, I must say.
Maybe if you wreck something, then it needs repair you can get them all back...? Ed
Reviewed by Judy Lloyd (Reader)
Reviewed on January 20, 2005
You know it is funny that when the men that helped put together our house were actually a great bunch of guys. I missed them too after they had finished and gone onto other jobs.
Two years old - and a crush on manly construction workers, hey?! My, you started young, Kate! But they sound like grand memories - I wouldn't call them 'debris.' And consider yourself lucky, I was always watched over - by very old nuns.
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Your power with the written word brings this poem vividly to life, one the reader sees unfolding before their eyes! A smile comes to the lips, you can almost hear the wistful sighs of rapturous enjoyment when they experience your words! Well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :)
TRASK
Nice work,
Felix
This was a pleasure from beginning to end.
best
Ian
up the ladder to the roof;
Did they sing YMCA, and in the Navy?
You've a great memory. Should the second word be "AM?"
Nice one Kanoodiling Kate
Josh