Here´s today´s poem – a Herculean task!


How do I moan about thee? Count the ways:

I moan about the dishes in the sink

The turmeric that sticks around for days

Tainting with jaundice everything I think

About the tide of clutter I complain

It rises to my gorge like global warming

The landfill of our house like endless rain

congeals, then freezes, like an ice-age forming:

Recycle? Yes – but that’s the iceberg’s tip,

It’s that which is below it makes me shiver;

It’s inconcievable to get a grip;

This Herculean task requires a river –

I give it up; I turn to you in bed –

Embrace me; let me moan with thee instead.

This is of course about the Herculean task of clearing the Augean stables (pronounced “Orgy-an”, hence there is an implied pun in the sexual reference at the end. It is also a moan about the endless problem of clutter in our house, which is just about the only real bone of contention between Mark and me. Oh, except for margarine. But that’s another story. Read the full account here (of Hercules, not Mark!) Although…. – 6k –


You might also like to know that the line “About the tide of clutter I complain” is a reference to Andrew Marvell’s poem “To His Coy Mistress” (theme: F**k me now, time’s running out) and to the lines:

Thou by the Indian Ganges side

Should’st rubies find: I by the tide

of Humber should complain

Read it here: