Aug. 21, 2022
Eyelid hinges squeak tiredness on opening,
a child cries early morning hunger pangs,
a dad groans as he looks to allay those tears.
Young boys stretch long, engrossed in their tablets.
Touch needs are enlivened by sensual
caress, as bed creaks to rising body.
A sink outlet gurgles in response,
house symphonics swell with heating pipes.
The trek downstairs is slow, noised by crockery
and cutlery, the spilling
out of cereal and milk and tea:
humans crawling from their inertia.
So begins another Sunday morning
that elders look upon with smiling gratitude.
Peter Clarke
Caroline Martin
21.08.2022 18:09
This is beautiful Peter. Such familiarity and gentleness. Thank you!
Latest comments
25.11 | 22:15
Grief is experience through the mundane. Simple but powerful. The accompanying image really compliments the poem.
07.11 | 11:14
Hi Peter,
A great observation! Social media can be a scary place... I also need to reduce my time there
Hugs,
John.x
06.11 | 16:24
A great one, Peter, in the context you describe. I don't read social media myself, I doubt my equilibrium could stand it. 'The balance of his mind disturbed' yes, I think it would be.
06.11 | 15:59
Yes, gossip is a weapon of mass destruction.
In my business as well as personal life I have zero tolerance.