Tag Archives: poem about clutter

Stuffed

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Stuffed

I lose my glasses, cuss and mutter,
but my worst quality is clutter!
I have a drawer just filled with socks
I never wear.  And pans and woks,
old dishes, fondue pots  and skewers,
a fourteen-year-old bottle of Dewars
not one friend drinks, much less myself,
sitting there upon my shelf.
Everything I buy just clings.
I  can’t seem to part with things!

In boxes on my garage shelves
are all my former castoff selves.
The slides from art shows long ago?
I dread sorting them and so
they remain in plastic crates,
labeled with their types and dates.
Old letters, class notes, tax returns?
I’ve heard that paper easily burns
as well as shreds, yet still I wait.
Years pass as I equivocate.
They might be needed someday so,
get rid of them? I just say no!

My studio is filled with things.
My jewelry drawers with bracelets, rings.
My closets stuffed with different sizes,
shelves stacked with future gifts and prizes.
Snow boots although it never snows
anywhere this woman goes.
A safari hat with veil
hangs upon a closet nail
along with wet suit, snorkel, fins,
and other useless hoarding sins.

My kitchen is a spice museum.
So many spices, I can’t see um.
Fenugreek and capsicum
that I was given by my mum
so long ago they have no taste,
green olives and tomato paste
well past the date they should be used.
Yes, my house should be perused
and sorted out, I must admit,
instead, I sit and write of it!
I know some folks clear out their closets,
but me? I only make deposits!

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The Prompt:  Flawed––What is your worst quality? https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/flawed/

Homely Studio

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Homely Studio

My studio is my refuge––a place I’m never hounded.
Safe within my compound walls, its door is never pounded.
There is no telephone at all, no internet or texting.
No sense of what I should have done, no hurrying or “nexting.”

Its drawers are full of little things; its shelves are full of paint.
For when it comes to art supplies, I have little restraint.
Some might call it cluttered and I cannot deny it;
for if it’s miniature and cheap, I cannot help but buy it.

Here I paint, arrange and glue––what some would label “playing,”
and if objects perchance might fall, they stay where they are laying.
Yet I’m at home within it, for I know where each thing goes.
Never quite so happy as when making retablos.

Within my many drawers of flowers and charms and old watch parts,
of animals  and tiny fruits, there is a drawer of hearts.
So if “home is where the heart is,” my studio is my home––
the place that I come back to, wherever else I roam.

Often it’s disorganized–things piled and under feet.
Cruel folks say its cluttered, but the tactful say “replete.”
But, the truth is when I’m busy, the mess soon grows absurd.
and it’s true my studio’s homely in both meanings of the word!

Repleted: 1. filled or well-supplied with something.  synonyms: filled, full, well stocked, well supplied, crammed, packed, jammed, teeming, overflowing, bursting, jam-packed, chockablock, chock-full

Homely: 1. unattractive in appearance. unattractive, plain, unprepossessing, unlovely, ill-favored, 2. (of a place or surroundings) simple but cozy and comfortable, as in one’s own home “a modern hotel with a homely atmosphere”

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The topic “Homely Studio” was generated for me by Jennifer’s Topic Generator.  You can find it here: https://topicgenerator.wordpress.com/submit/

Delayed Agenda

My first week after camp was out, I had so much to do,
but how I’d really spend it, I didn’t have a clue.
Sunday I was resting–staying close to home–
eschewing rituals of makeup, jewelry or comb.
Catching up on sleep and alone time and my blog.
Straightening camp clutter and shampooing my dog.

By Monday I was taking samples to the lab
for a friend who wasn’t feeling very fab.
Taking her electrolytes and medicine to do
what was necessary to execute a coup
on all the small amoebas who’d colonized her bod
and made of her their temple, their dwelling place, their god.

Version 2

On Monday night there was a birthday party for a friend,
but Tuesday brought my social life abruptly to an end
as I commenced a sort of party of my own,
communicating my own pleas upon the phone
for a friend to help me, for I was feeling fragile
and had an urgent need for electrolytes and Flagyl!

Two days at home just running between my bed and loo
left me with no time left for other things to do.
But when at last the meds kicked in, I found that I could go
to execute my errands, to meetings and a show
of kids on ukuleles that I’d committed to–
in three weeks, the third showing of kids for us to view.

So now it is a Sunday. I’ve fed the dogs a bite
and I have come back into bed to finish out the rite
of publishing this blog post and tweaking a few pictures
that I hope you’ll approve of with a minimum of strictures.
I’ll have a swim and then I’ll tackle that job I’ve been dreading
of cleaning all the piles off my desktop and my bedding!

Computers, files, folders, forms, boxes, books and cards.
Bits and pieces, piles and scraps, strips and orts and shards.
For months I’ve just kept piling things that I have just done,
unpacked or started packing–while I am on the run.
Now it’s time to organize, to put away and hide
all this mess I’ve found it necessary to abide.

I wish my life were simpler, my habitat more sparse,
but that would mean a schedule that gets me off my arse
earlier each morning, which would cut into my blog time–
my swimming and my photographing, dreaming and my dog time.
With only so much time each day, I must choose how to spend it;
for time is just not flexible. There is no way to bend it.

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Desk # 1 Cleared off. Check!

So for two months I have chosen to write and teach and play–
to exercise and see my friends and post my blog each day.
And once a week to clear some space–my desk that’s in the sala.
Then I did a week of camp and the final gala.
Then I cleared the dining table of mat cutter and books,
papers, art supplies and pens. ratchets, screws and hooks.

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Desk #2. Cleared of clutter. Check!

Then off again to one more week of art and words and kids
and those mean amoebas that put me in the skids.
But now I’m almost finished with this tedious little rhyme
which means that I have finally nearly reached the time
when I’ll do the final sorting task that I have to do–
of sorting of more desk rubble–the whole motley crew!

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Desk #3. Today’s agenda.

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Desk #4. Today’s further agenda.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Obstacle Course.” Think about what you wanted to accomplish last week. Did you? What are the things that hold you back from doing everything you’d like to do?