RANDOM POETRY PROMPT
It’s Washing Day
Where the heck did I go wrong?
Five years ago me washer broke
And though I wed a lovely bloke —
Been outa work for all those years,
Now rests on sofa swillin’ beers.
So, on Mund’ys — just once a week,
I traipse along the bubblin’ creek
Singin’ lament — “Dead Washer” song
Lug laundry bag to billabong.
Rubbin’, scrubbin’ dirty undies —
Cripes, it takes a month of Sund’ys!
How many jocks can one slob wear?
It’s ‘nuff to make me rip me hair!
When his are done, I start me own,
And dream of ownin’ mobile phone,
A washer, dryer, jet named Lear,
Shoulda snagged me a millionaire!
When dreams and rinsin’ all is done,
I hang gruds up in blastin’ sun,
Resigned to life that’s livin’ hell,
I get to hang meself as well!
“Gruds” = undies
Carolyn Hastings blames the prompt on Daniella Montage. That’s pretty random!
Read it, loved it — radical randomness, Daniella!
Thalia Dunn turns random nothingness into beautiful somethingness. Wait! Is that even a word?
