Friday Poem #131: A Day in The Life
Hello, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.
Up until 24 hours ago, I had no idea about what this week’s poem would be about. Regular readers of my poems will recognise this as a regular occurence, and although I have yet again come up with the “goods” (or the “rubbish’s” depending on your opinion of my poetry), there was definitely a good period of time when I had nothing. I had no finished poems in any notebooks, and no drafts that I felt I could finish. For the first time in a while I was genuinely scared that I might not be able to write a poem this week.
Thankfully, I remembered what variety there is in this existence, and simply drew on my experiences on today, Thursday 11th July,
I’m home alone this weekend – but I shall not be spending all weekend sat in my boxer shorts scratching myself. I didn’t go swimming on Tuesday night, as I was at my regular spoken work open mic night – Apothecary – reading last week’s Friday poem. If you want to see a video of my doing my stuff click this link
So on Saturday, with more time to go swimming (as I don’t have to rush back to run the children somewhere) I shall be having a go at swimming a mile in the pool. A mile is approximately 64.5 lengths of the 25 metre pool, but I will do 66 as I have swimming an odd number of lengths.
After swimming, I’ve got a raft of jobs to do in the home and garden, all of which will keep me active and help burn off some of the carbs that I slipped on for the first 3 days of this week.
I will also be scratching myself wearing only my boxers. I’ll post a video of that, next week.
But for now, here’s this week’s Friday poem. I hope you like it.
A Day in The Life
But also possibly dead.
I drove on – semi-concerned.
Almost stopped to buy a bottle of water
To take back to him.
Not because I thought it would bring him back to life
But in the hope that he was just resting from the heat of the day.
I almost stopped.
I assured myself that another driver on his side of the road would stop and check on him.
Been waiting all day.
Waiting for an answer that hasn’t come.
I filled the time with answers of my own:
Lots of applicants…….
High standard of interviewees….
Unsuccessful on this occasion.
They said the end of the week at the latest
But possibly tomorrow.
That was yesterday.
I’ll know by Friday
Although I suspect I know already.
I hate corned beef.
Not the taste,
The stupid tin it comes in.
With the stupid key that never works.
Cut myself twice mangling the bloody thing open.
The whole thing was a complete shambles.
A last minute, spur of the moment, blood-letting shambles.
Tasted nice though.
(Not the blood)
Before the Corned Beef lacerations.
Breaking in new shoes is crippling me.
Blisters make me limp.
One on each foot, so you think I would limp evenly.
But that would be too simple.
Equal numbers of feet and blisters means I limp unevenly.
I might as well be dragging one foot.
All while I’m parking a mile away from work
To supplement my fitness regime.
I’m the fittest shuffler you’ll ever see.
On taxi duty.
School Disco pick up.
Hoardes of sweaty school kids
Swarming out into the darkness
Fuelled by packaged and liquid sugar.
The sweet smell of hundreds of sweating children
Fills the air like smoke from a bonfire.
Red faced, and hyper
They burst from the light into the darkness
Where silhouetted parents stand in bored silence
Like extras from a Zombie film.
As one we shuffle from foot to foot
As if we all have blisters.
Most of the time
We only see the thread that we are following
But if you occasionally look back at the various threads you’ve held
You’ll see what a rich tapestry life is.