The Carpet Cleaner
The carpet cleaners came
with brushes and hoses.
The odour of detergent
lingers in our noses.
They scrubbed away and washed
the curry stains and wine.
After hours of work
the carpet looked just fine.
The doors were all left open.
The windows left ajar.
The house smells like a woolly sheep.
I’m sitting in the car.
The water is condensing.
The window’s ringing wet.
The curtain’s in the spinner
and I’m sponging off the pet.
Why did I phone this man?
Why did I book the date?
Why ever did I go for this?
The house is such a state.
Tomorrow will be better.
The sun is booked to shine.
Lets open up a bottle.
Oh! Whoops, I’ve spilt the wine.
Copyright Meg Gurney
Writer’s tale
They say you have good characters when they have a life of their own and do as they please instead of what you want them to do...
To writers’ group we weekly go
We’re told don’t tell but gently show
The characters, the place, the time,
Don’t worry though about the rhyme.
The plot like magic will appear
If character and place are clear.
I picture chap with long dark beard
And floating cape, quite naturally feared.
I put him in a graveyard, gloomy,
With gravestones and a tomb, quite roomy.
I draw on poets, authors, bards,
But all the time he just plays cards!
I bring in fog and rain and mist
But all the time the point he’s missed.
I introduce loud bangs and bumps
But he just calls “3 spades, no trumps1”
I try so hard to make it scary
But out from somewhere comes a fairy
She casts a spell to make it sunny
And they both think its rather funny.
The last laugh I will have, I’m sure
I place the graveyard on a moor
The Baskervilles who live quite near
Still have their vicious dog, I fear.
Too late, too late, we hear them cry
They both of fear will surely die.
But no, the dog just barks and plays
My story lasts for days and days.
Meg Gurney copyright
