Tag Archives: plumber

The Fix

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The Fix

They say it was just happenstance that they ever met—
she a wealthy spinster, he of the lower set.
He liked his women spicy. She was a basket case.
She, aloof and cloistered, considered workmen base.

She had notified the landlord of a problem with her plumbing.
For at least a week, he promised that someone was coming,
so by the time the plumber finally came to fix her pipes,
she was apoplectic—chock full of niggling gripes.

Any other normal man would have been offended
when she hovered and she chattered as he soldered, wrenched and mended,
but he had an even temperament, so he maintained his cool
as she niggled over every move and questioned every tool.

Finally, as she hovered, questioning that and this,
he simply rose and drew her into a passioned kiss
that stifled all her sputterings
and muffled all her mutterings,

until she ceased her protests, surrendered to the fun
and  repaid him all his kisses, returning one for one.
It was a simple wedding with little pomp or strife.
And that is how the lady found someone to fix her life.

 

Prompt words for the day are happenstance, aloof, spicy, notify and basket.

Typical Day

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Click on any photo to enlarge all.

Typical Day

What had I done by seven o’clock?
I’d let in the dog groomer, fastened the lock.
By eight I had fed all the cats and the dog
and turned to my duties: my prompts and my blog.
What had I accomplished by eight or by nine?
I’d published one poem and started a line

of another I worked on for a short while
’til the plumber arrived with a motor and pile
of tools to put in my new garbage disposal.
I talked to the gardener, made a proposal
to plant a new tree, then the housekeeper came.
If my poem went undone, I’d Yolanda to blame.

We talked for awhile, then I bent to my task
A ten minute reprieve was the most I could ask.
At ten, it was Oscar, arrived for his next
lesson in English.  My poem is hexed!
I download five photos that if I am able,
I’ll use with the poem, then spring to the table.

We study the use of “what, when and who”
of “where, why,” and “how,” then the next thing we do
is read a new story about Tio Nacho.
who had an old hat that was not very macho.
He said it in English, I said it in Spanish,
but when we were finished, my poem seemed to vanish.

I finally found it hidden in “notes,”
Found all my photos. Found all my quotes.
I shoo the white kitty off of my purse,
because the plomero I must reimburse.
I publish my poem and close up my Mac.
That’s a typical day for this poetry hack!!!