Ronnie McGinn's Poetry Page
| If you have a poem you'd like to see published in The Irish Examiner then send it to:
The Poetry Corner
The Irish Examiner USA
1040 Jackson Avenue, Third Floor
Long Island City
NY 11101
or, preferably, you can email it direct to
ronniemcginn@eircom.net.
If possible keep your poem to 20 lines. You may choose any subject you like, in any form you like as long as it's original. We look forward to hearing from you. |
Our poem this week is from Ann Leo O'Connor of the Bishopstown Writers Group in Cork. If I were a male chauvinist I'd probably say this one's for the Ladies but really it's for everybody, as we can all relate to it.
The rhythm is nice and strong yet perfectly natural; the ordinary movement of each line is not forced or falsified. The language is vigorous and economical. The stark cheerfulness of the scene is conveyed, not by the use of atmospheric, adjectives, but by the selection of suitable details.
The poem has its own air of exasperated humour that gives a high entertainment value. Nice one Ann!
Washday Blues...
The old people say how lucky you are,
With your washing machines and a motor car,
I wish they knew the times I've had,
When the same machine nearly drove me mad.
I put in the wash and close up the door,
Look up at the Sacred Heart and start to implore,
Oh please, let them come out nice and clean
And none the worst, for where they've been.
Himself said he'd cope with the vests turning red,
Sur, maybe he could wear them, tucked up in bed,
But as for the briefs, he drew the line,
When they came out pink the same as mine.
It's just like a game of Russian Roulette,
With the press of a button, they're off like a jet,
How they'll end up, nobody knows,
Just take a chance, that's how it goes.
The machine is fine when it works well,
But other times it's a living hell,
That's when it leaks all over the floor
And the lovely suds flow out the door.
The other day I grew tired of the trouble and fret,
Sat down by the fire and turned on the set,
After a while, I started to doze,
Had a wonderful dream, disposable clothes.
So folks who say, how lucky you've been,
With all the great changes your lifetime has seen,
So much for progress, when all's said and done,
Washday is still, no blinking fun.
© Ann Leo O'Connor
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