Wednesday 27 January 2021

Poem 27


 


Hot water and suds

Glasses, plates, mugs, crockery

Dishes never end

8 comments:

  1. Such is life - in seventeen syllables. You've also picked up on the idea that has surfaced on blogger recently about repetition. Dishes and repetition go hand in hand in my opinion..
    Alphie

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    Replies
    1. Repetition has surfaced? I must read the wrong blogs.
      Dishes are the repetitious bane of my life....and there, I've told you the emotion rather than let you feel it 😂

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    2. No Kylie, you do not read the wrong blogs, just different ones. :-)
      I certainly read the emotion, it's exactly how I feel about dishes! There'll be a big gap at the end of this comment. I'm using my phone. It's a right royal pain.
      Alphie

      Delete
  2. Replies
    1. Yes. I find dishes so much more onerous though

      Delete
  3. Seventeen syllables
    Kylie's suds are words

    Make it new
    Ezra Pound

    (Online: The Making of Make It New. Michael North. Guernica.)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I muddled through that one.
      And yes. A lot of years ago I did a Thanksgiving series. Thinking about one thing I was thankful for, every day for a month, was a very different exercise to rattling off a list in an hour or so

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  4. We are thankful for your Seventeen Syllables no need to say more.
    (17?)

    P.S. I am counting Seventeen as three syllables.

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