Our Demesne

 

Doesn’t pay to make plans as they haven’t
a chance in this diocese; not that I’m in the
least clerical, it is a term I use with a sense
of awe – the little I know about such things
is a confessional too much. Not that I’m an
aficionado – or an adept, but there’s a fine
line of irony in viewing the ecclesiastical as
a mess of good expectations gone awry

Bit like my cleaning the washing machine –
excuse me you’ll say, that’s bizarre, maybe
it is but washers don’t ‘agitator self-clean’ –
takes intervention, dissembly, wasting pre-
allocated time to achieve, delaying the next
load of washing and hanging out to dry

So why bother? Hard to say, maybe sotto
voce propositions activated a guilt-sense
with results justifying the intervention; if
it was meant to be, so be it – who knows
if or what is rationale, or for that matter,
honestly whispered common sense

But somewhere along the track is a logical,
no-nonsense belief you’re not even close –
so the morning rolls on until we’ve a time
niche, an occasion to scan the next event
before a morning shopping trip like we’re
actually in charge, as we’d planned

Sequentially we’ve corned beef cooking,
bread to bake, banking to write up, plus
reminder lists of grocery shopping items,
easy-peasy if you like while my morning’s
poetic creation’s in being & underway but
less an uncomplicated conception

Sad to say it’s the third time I tried to end
this epistle – something’s amiss in my PC,
some assorted s**t hits the fan freezing it;
after two restorations failed cleaning it any
guarantee of defeating those demons who
purportedly lurk within seems –

The unmitigated choice of our demesne!
© 22 April 2013, I. D. Carswell