I do the washing
i don't say anything
I half to cook
& I wont talk back
The mom
mame'
the wife
Ms. Sheila
I do it all
every night
everyday
it never gets old
when I'm nervous
I take pills
he hits the wall
It never fails
He's dad
He's mad as hell
He wont stop
he is a husband
I carry the rings
I needle alone
Where are the kids
in the rom?
We must accomplish more
We are never separated
when will it stop
when he is gone'
That's when ill be gone
gone home with my mamma'
Like a programmed robot
I move through each day
Smiling and nodding
In just the right way.
Pretending I'm happy
And life is just great
When the truth of the matter is
There's just too much on my plate.
I feel like I got cheated
Out of living a good life
I'm poor and alone
And I'll never be anyone's wife.
I'm like that lone shoe
You see lying on the road
Alone and discarded
Like an unwanted load.
People pass by me
Staring with pity
Torn and tattered
Not an ounce of pretty.
The shadows in my eyes
Portray a battle lost
Nightmares and insomnia
Show surrender’s cost.
The physical scars
Have healed without a trace
But the mental emotions
Are still written in my face.
I'm a programmed robot
Struggling each day
Trying to hold my head up
And wishing I could fade away.
sad children spyin'
a storm of conflict brewin' ~
mom and dad trade barbs
Loving newly weds,
Power games husband playing,
Soon to be annulled.
Twilights in my kitchen without me even wishing.
Dusk dances thru the house, twirls and swirls about.
Soft as any pillow, colors filter in.
They grace every window, smiling now and then.
It gives me pause to say exactly why
my home feels the cause of both earth and sky.
It is never easy to explain jubilant bliss,
but my own attempt would read like this:
It is the color of harmony from loving my life,
from joy in all I see, that brings this mood to me.
Like a soft breeze teasing your skin, it is the
freedom from not missing what has already been.
It is comfort without reaching, security before needing.
It is people hugging and holding, hearts tugging and molding.
It is the presence of family even when in different rooms,
and knowing your loved ones are both your sun and moon.
I long for your arms
and await your charm
you are comfier than the couch,
that's always a pain in my ouch
you sweep me off my feet,
oh you little charmer i tweet
slowly you swoon me to sleep
my recliner i shall keep
Two old souls, a long time wed
Sit indoors, just been fed
Cat deciding who to sit on
Curling round, tries to fit on
Closes eyes and stretches out
Now owns the chair, there is no doubt
The other occupant sits tight
Not giving up without a fight
Bends and twists to make more space
Whiskers twitch, an “innocent” face
Purring like a furry train
Knowing there is all to gain
A truce is called, just space for two
Just don’t try to make a brew
Until our overlord awakes
Time for food, quick, quick, two shakes
Domestic bliss, oh what a laugh
Dogs have owners but cats have staff
Generally domestic bliss : Primary need .
Indispensable for a life : Indeed.
Your day to day living must be easy,
always staying strong dynamic, busy.
Each being may not wish for domestic bliss:
Somebody doesn't bother if they can miss.
Demand of life, not same for each person.
It tends to follow separate version.
Domestic bliss may be one's earnest desire
Other prefers 'power' through life entire.
Or, approaching every step on journey,
to gain own goal or after money.
Domestic bliss not always priority -
Happiness lies in other activities.
Yet for domestic bliss hanker most guys :
It's universal truth ! None can deny .
Dandelion dreams drip from ebony eyes
Onyx screams of love birds in blue sky
Morning smells of maple syrup so sweet
Eager to rise from the deep denim sleep
Sacred psalms of a dream catcher’s art
Turquoise stone shining like hope in heart
Indigo images shadow dance in sunlight
Cat fat and black racing squirrel outside
Blue moods like jazz play with my mind
Like the clock tic tick teal in perfect time
I people watch as wild animals watch me
Strolling barefoot enjoying life’s silver scene
Starry night melts into cloudy day dream
Written: May 29, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Margarita Lillico
1st place contest winner
********************
O hallowed recliner, throne of my repose,
you cradle my chaos, you cushion my woes.
With cup-holder majesty, armrest divine,
you whisper: *“Forget the world, the remote is mine.”*
The computer hums like a loyal old pet,
its screen a sanctuary of Wi-Fi regret.
Emails parade like clowns in a ring,
while Netflix insists I watch *one more thing.*
Domestic bliss? Oh, surely it’s this—
a kingdom of crumbs, a fortress of fizz.
The recliner reclines, the keyboard complains,
yet comfort and clutter run through my veins.
So crown me with cables, baptize me in light,
let spreadsheets and sitcoms both bless my night.
For bliss is not roses, nor candlelit cheer—
It’s Wi-Fi that works, and a fridge full of beer.
Last Christmas the dishwasher broke down
The flooded out kitchen sure made me frown
Oh how I cussed, my mouth I couldn’t zip
That old machine got dumped on the tip!
We didn’t replace the broken machine
But need crockery to be sparkling clean
Now my dishwasher is busy at work
It’s relentless, this chore it won’t shirk
A tidy kitchen is just one of my wishes
So my husband hand washes the dishes
I’m just delighted by this Domestic bliss
The dishes are done I give hubby a kiss!
To live alone and be content
No one to tell you what to do
Your life you feel has been well spent
All of your desires have now come true
A place where you can sit and share
To live alone and be content
You make the rules decide what's fair
No debts to pay and none are lent
I owe to others not one cent
Because in life I have been blessed
To live alone and be content
To share to help then to invest
In those who seek to be much more
Then critic's say that life has sent
To find someone that you adore
To live alone and be content
I am a captive of these chores,
Clean dirt from windows, walls and floors.
Clothes washed to remove all the dirt,
Even the lipstick on his shirt.
There's no time to check if its mine.
Washing is done, dirt came out fine.
Such bliss to have it all done, and when I die.
They'll throw dirt on me, where I lie.
Looking out my bay-window,
I am feeling the new day and seeing colors of indigo.
The pretty indigo sky with big white fluffy clouds,
turning ominous and into dark thunderclouds.
My neighbors pretty garden of indigo flowers,
are getting a drink and much needed showers.
Domestic Bliss Is Feeling,
the love from living out doors is healing.
Domestic Bliss Is Seeing,
out my bay-window because it is freeing.
I heard cries
saw swarms of fist
crack heavens walls
I knew at a ripped age, how
and how not to be.
Nights, I held these ears closed
in hopes to drown this house
that shook like an earthquake.
I learned to pick up clouds of
body parts that lingered from
stormy rains
I wiped mirrors clean with bleeding
hearts, stuck in sunken repeat.
Thorns pricked these tiny fingers
as I placed mishaps of I Love Yous
in glass jars.
I saw my mothers pinched face in a
constant contortion of why's, masked
by pleasing smiles to ease the thunderstorm
I was nine picking up shattered formalities
calling dysfunction normal
I remained quiet, hid in cupboards that
were dollhouses
But, the floods that consumed her washed ashore
and these ears were now home to roars that once
echoed in her room
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