I is for Ironing. The chore women most hate to do…

ironing clothes angry

I wish I had more time each day,
Just to sit and tap away
Putting down on a clean white sheet
All my thoughts, it’s no mean feat.
Does anybody want to know
Where my everyday thoughts go
I want to write about everything
Instead I do my ironing
And let my daydreams bring me where
I write daily about love affairs
Or murder mysteries on a train
Where a young man has gone insane
To find that his one true love
Thinks that he is unworthy of
All that she has to give,
He realises that he will not outlive
This femme fatale with hair of blazing red
As she fires her pistol until he is dead.

She should have stayed at home like me…

Ironing her smalls
Instead of shooting her lover in the balls.

About trishnugentwriter

A wife and mother of four who writes and acts as much as she can in between the housework and shopping. I have been published in 'Irelands Own' 'Intallaght' and 'Tallaght Echo'. I have won prizes for poetry including 1st place in The Bealtaine Writing comp in 2012.I'm a member of drama group in 'An Cosan' in Tallaght and also 'Platform One' Writers group in Rua Red.
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4 Responses to Ironing blues

  1. Tyrean says:

    This is hilarious! I love this poem! Just visiting from A to Z!

  2. Loved the end. I didn’t really see that coming and then BAM!

  3. Funny stuff! from a natural red-head 🙂

  4. Thank you all for popping by and commenting 🙂

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