Impromptu Housewife Haiku
Saturday Morning
Dust in a sunbeam;
Jane makes Lego blackberries
She works quietly.
I step on Lego;
Wincing, mutt’ring, hobbling, I
nearly say bad words.
Why, oh why, oh why
Do my girls not tidy up?
Being 3’s no excuse!
Kate, Jane and Mummy
Sing, fling Lego in boxes;
Happy, having fun
Vacuum clattering,
Sounds bad and needs inspection;
Lego slays vacuum.
My tea’s gone cold now;
Must clean the fridge but, really,
I’d rather colour.
***********
I know I said I’d refrain from poetry in this blog but felt sorta minimal this morning and still wanted to write something. Aha, a haiku! I thought. Or several! Thus, mooting and diluting the whole spare, brief, crystalization-of-a-thought concept of haiku.
I’m sorry! Won’t do it again. Promise.
February 26th, 2006 at 11:19 pm
Great piece..
February 27th, 2006 at 11:45 am
I agree – please do it again!!
February 28th, 2006 at 2:40 am
Good poetry is always good. No apologies. Besides, spelling it “colour” makes you sound fancy!
February 28th, 2006 at 3:14 am
All the fanciest people come from the Outer Hebrides of Scotland. It’s the refinement that comes from being breast fed on whiskey with tea chasers. Our natural good posture comes from having to stand like this / in the brisk prevailing wind, so when we leave the islands for less windy climes, we automatically spring upright with no slouching.
Thanks for stopping by everyone! I get a wee thrill every time I see someone’s left a comment. It’s really addictive. Mom 101, I have you bookmarked, baby! You rock! Humanity Critic, I’ve snooped about your site a little and it looks really interesting. I’ll be back for another looksee. Grandpa Bear, you are my lovely, loyal commenter. I’m looking forward to meeting you at Decay’s nuptials, later in the year.
February 28th, 2006 at 8:35 am
Aha! I knew it. I knew you weren’t a proper American. Not that being one is a bad thing. Or that not being one is a bad thing… ah, fuckit. I was right. That’s all that matters.
Do you have an Outer Hebridean connection with Anna, other than that you both once lived there?
I opened this comment box to say something else. Have forgotten what now. Um…
Oh yes. Twins. I kind of wanted my first child to be twins, and then I wouldn’t have to have any more. Ready-made family, all in one go. Nice and neat. Bit of a nightmare for the first couiple of years, but after that, they’ll just look after each other! Short-cut parenting, just the way I like it.
Of course having twins second time around would just be careless and silly. So my qu is: do you want any more kids, or are you happy with the ready-made family?
February 28th, 2006 at 7:25 pm
Clare! Welcome! Thank-you for visiting and for leaving such lovely comments. I’ve noticed you have a site, so will be off to scout it in a wee bit.
Our twins were hard won; nothing about conceiving them (IVF), carrying them (7 week bed-rest for pre-term labour) and having them (born 10 weeks too early) was easy or as it’s meant to be. Add to that a hefty dose of PPD, stir, and the result is that throwing ourselves back into that terrifying, uncertain abyss (at one point we were told at least one baby would die and the other have a short, painful life so to go away) doesn’t seem like a good idea.
But I’m not being entirely truthful. I would. My beloved, however, would most certainly NOT NONONONO! Time has done that amazing thing it does by making me forget how bad it was at the time and I’m willing to plunge back into it all. Reason, however (who often sounds a lot like Dave), tells me that we’d be pushing our luck, we beat the odds first time round and have 2 happy, healthy wee girls. Don’t mess with that.
I guess the answer is: The ready-made family works for us, we’re not going to mess with a good thing.
No Outer Hebridonian connecton with Anna. I spent my first 18 years on the Isle of Lewis, went to uni. went to America, got married, got kids. An unextrordinary life all in all. I’m a bit of a wastrel and haven’t really done very much with my life except having two lovely wee girls and making some beautiful friendships along the way.
Thanks again Clare! It’s great to have you here, and I hope you’ll visit again. Will be visiting you in a bit, after I’ve fed the marauding hordes.
February 28th, 2006 at 7:56 pm
“fed the marauding hordes”
Ugh, tell me about it. I’ve just been ejected out the other end of a hideous dinnertime involving children refusing to eat carefully-prepared and looked-forward-to pancakes, children faking severe and worrying stomach-ache, partners working late and failing to appear or inform me of pending lateness, and all under the watchful eye of somebody else’s 3-yr-old who came for tea and, yes, refused to eat pancakes. Meanwhile I’m bloody dying to eat a bloody pancake but haven’t yet had a bloody opportunity. Grrrr. And… breathe. Sorry.
I know exactly what you mean about being reluctant to re-enter the parenthood fray. I was terribly ill and bedridden for weeks with first pregnancy, nearly died… and yet somehow the memories fade to nothing and I want to do it all again! Even though there’s a 60% chance of a repeat performance. My partner, of course, is slightly less enthusiastic. Bloody hormones, eh? This is why twins would, supposedly, have been a good thing. Only one pregnancy, you see.
Are they identical? Do they have their own secret language? Aw, I love twins.
March 1st, 2006 at 11:53 am
Hi Sami, the haikus were great, I think this should be a regular feature! I’ve got a book by the Guardian’s tv critic, in one section he does the tv listings in haiku format – here are a couple:
The National Lottery:
Applause detonates
as bubblegum balls fall in line
you have won fuck-all.
Neighbours:
To impress a girl
Toadie catapults himself
through a French window.
and a couple inspired by my journey into work this morning:
Traffic lights turn red
Bus driver’s fury suggests
he’s in the wrong job.
Lurid shell-suits swoop
female neds beseech me but
I have no ciggies.
March 1st, 2006 at 8:41 pm
Ian, you have done me a mischief. I read this in the wee small hours of the morning whilst unable to sleep despite having been overserved again at Tuesday Trivia. More important than any of that though was the hot tea, I choked on and spilled everywhere when I read your haikus. Genius!
Can’t remember which one actually caused the spillage but when I read them again just now, I think my favourite is ‘Bus Driver’s Fury’, which is as perfect a haiku as there can be. Humour, rage and despair in the gritty cityscape. But it’s a close call because of the image I have now in my mind of the ‘lurid shell-suits swoop(ing)’ on you like some monstrous fuschia’n’sea-foam vultures. Pure, perfect genius! They were worth the scalded hand and the soggy cheese sandwich: the haikus and the damage done.
March 3rd, 2006 at 1:12 pm
Here is a comment:
Eine Kleine Nichtmusik
Has left the building.