I solemnly received my first toilet auger
As if it were a knight’s well-tempered sword.
It meant I’d passed my ninety-day audition,
And seemed to me a suitable reward.
And so began my tenure working maintenance
In the nasty nitty gritty of a toxic circumstance.
But I’d scored a small apartment, living duty-free,
So, it was time for starting over’s second chance.
A thousand plus apartments needed tending.
When a work ticket printed, I called dibs.
Seventy buildings built of brick and dreams.
I was privy to the skivvy in all those skeevy cribs.
I’ve encountered many silent tribal totems:
Hindu murti, Christian chi rho, Muslim script.
But no matter the religion of the trouble call,
For every useful purpose, I came suitably equipped.
There were feral cats, roaches, and bedbugs
Infesting hoarders’ floorspace wall-to-wall.
I dealt as best I could with the detritus,
But my biggest stress was over-night on-call.
While paying the price of complete independence
I may sometimes have hammered my thumb.
Though I may be a hack in the handyman trade,
I conducted my final campaign as my army of one.
And I came off a winner.
Categories:
skivvy, allegory, work,
Form: Burlesque
I must have been maybe five or six,
When our Dad decided to pull up sticks
He left our house, why? I'll never know,
'Twas said to another life he had to go.
Looking back on my life, I feel so dumb.
All those years I felt no love from Mum.
She was left alone to bring us up,
Five kids and herself, in a 3 down 3 up.
Way back in the fifties it must have been hard,
No money about, the loo down the yard,
Mum had to work hard, wi' 6 mouths to feed.
three lads, two girls and herself, all in need.
When I look back over the years,
I know see what she had done.
I can now see that she worked like a skivvy,
Now that could not have been fun.
As a wee lad of five, my life in a muddle,
All I wanted was a kiss, maybe a cuddle.
It may have all happened, and I just forgot.
I spent all my life thinking that was my lot.
I remember trying so hard to do right,
It was never enough, I cried into the night.
Maybe I was wrong, I just don't know,
Now she is gone, these thoughts will not go.
Never invited to family do's, don't know why,
Left out of the loop all my life.
So now it's just me and our kids,
And Frances, my wonderful wife.
© Dave Timperley 2014
Categories:
skivvy, dad, emotions, family, mom,
Form: Light Verse
My wife says things to me
Assuming my minds orderly
I pretend I don't listen
She can clean her own Nissan
And stop treating me like her skivvy
Categories:
skivvy, wife,
Form: Limerick
A simple French Carmelite monk
Into a most menial role he sunk,
A singular byway of life he trod,
Often alone and on his tod-
Practicing the presence of God.
Tribute to Brother Lawrence.
Categories:
skivvy, devotion, faith, people,
Form: Narrative
A blizzardery blitz. white spotted morning.
A score plus five.
Nay, nay, nay, tis nay that came from his blundering mouth.
A child entering.
Falling in a gust of wind.
An appearance as small as a snowflake.
Taking sides, faltering at each clumsy move,
made without pre thought.
Being a skivvy to his body.
A slave to his brain.
Rejection to such quantity.
Something as beautiful as is ugly.
Justice know.
Understanding, difficult.
While his soul is free, he, struggling to leave the world pure.
Rubbish, tripe, Venus , Jupiter.
His depth of responsibility shows.
Progress of reason may turn the snowflake to hail.
Rejection, damage, death, destruction,
he can no longer control.
Understanding the depth of difficulty.
We will have quantities of snowflakes and each an individual.
Categories:
skivvy, friendship, imagination, life,
Form: I do not know?