The Court of a Writer

[Shizara]

Here's another one for you, based on a true experience. Although it is fair to say the property was not exactly up to an acceptable condition I don't think I have laughed so much in ages.

The Court of a Writer

Bouncing over the cobblestones old
A drama of laughter is about to unfold,
The key fits into the tired, worn out door
You turn the handle and walk onto the floor.
Uneven and rough; no shine to be seen
Channels and grooves; about; in between.
An armchair; so grubby; from Steptoe's I'll bet
Was it Harold's or Albert's? What a duet!
Open the oven; prepared to cook tea?
A jackhammer job; of cleaning; greets thee.
Greasy utensils and baked on grime
Cleaning first is going to take time!
Look up to the ceiling; tinged rusty I see
Hope nothing decides to drip down on me.
Ascending the stairs; they move and they creak
Hold the bannister? ; In my hand!; It's ever so weak!
When lo and behold to the bedroom I enter
The bed lines the wall; definitely off centre.
Prepared to get in and sleep for the night
I get in on the side that's not on the right.
Moving across to the side by the wall;
Joined by another who came in from the hall.
Cautioned; Take care as you sit on the bed;
We giggled as clearly the screws lost their thread!
T'was late in the night; the bed crashed to the floor
It left us in stitches; what an uproar!
More laughter erupted as we thought of Frank Spence
The wardrobe tickled our visual sense!
"Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em"; a comedy team
Frank and his Betty; the eye more than does gleam.
On the floor we slept for the next night and two
And when the last day arrived we knew what to do.
With care and patience stand the frame up again;
But Giggles erupt; a much repeated refrain!
Push screws too small into holes too big
Place the mattress and bedding on the unstable rig.
For the last time we descended the ricketty stairs
Wondering if anyone would effect some repairs.
We drove into the sunshine; after the rain things are brighter;
And so ends the tale of the Court of a writer.

[Margaret]

Clever poetry Shizara. I like that one.
Wish we had a 'like' button :)

[cathidaw]

So do I.
I used to write poetry and encouraged my children to write about things that happened,such as when our cat ate our neighbour's guinea pigs and dare not tell him-even looking for them.This one I wrote when telling them about when I was a little girl and lived in a house with a privy at the top of the garden.

A PRIVY REMEMBERED
I remember the privy at the end of the path.
Its roof held together with cobwebs and lath
Twin seated it was, of old splintered wood
Quite why there were two was not understood.
Blistering paint on a handle free door
Crumbling bricks and a bare earthen floor
Damp paper squares on a bent rusty nail
Carefully torn from an old Daily Mail
Wintry days, air pungent and damp.
Heady fumes from the old Tilly lamp
Flaking whitewash sprinkling our hair,
Mysterious creatures hiding there.
We played hide and seek from that little room, chanting loudly in the gloom.
With sunbeams dancing through the gaps, then ran out shouting, ’coming chaps’.
Misty evenings, full of sound,
Walking up the dewy path, odd rustlings abound.
Scary moonlit monsters lurking in the trees,
Heart beating faster, trembling at the knees.
Relief to reach that room at night, old candles in the jars,
Looking upwards to the roof, gazing at the stars.
Time to ponder, time to dream, a haven from outside.
Magic in my memory this place I used to hide.

[cathidaw]

PANCHO We had a cat named Pancho who came in from the rain,
One night it was, she looked around and made it her domain.
For nineteen years she ruled us all including thirteen rabbits.
A gorgeous dainty tortoise shell- with very nasty habits.
A thief she was , so devious, all food we had to hide,
Undaunted she just went next door and sneaked herself inside.
A pack of ham she gobbled up and custards on a plate.
Suddenly she heard a noise, it was the garden gate
Silently she came back home and lay down on her mat.
Neighbour scratched her head surprised, but didn’t blame the cat.
Until the day when she was spied and chased out of the door
A pound of sausage trailing and dropped down on my floor.
Neighbour was not happy , an understatement that
He swore that if it came again he’d shoot the blasted cat.
Peace reigned awhile til Pancho had three kittens in their shed
And some months later had four more , upon same neighbour’s bed.
We then moved house and things were fine, for a while at least.
Then she ate the neighbours guinea pigs, a gory royal feast
On moving day the hiding cat got stuck inside a drain.
The firemen tried to tempt her out but it was all in vain
Slabs were lifted, garden trashed but she went further in.
We stopped for tea. When we came out, she sat there on the bin.
Nineteen years in cat years, one thirty three in ours
Pancho our little character, sleeps safe beneath the flowers

[Shizara]

LOL... cathidaw, they are brilliant!