Tags
Chores, Dreams, Hamlet, Humor, humour, Ironing, Life, poetry, satire, Shakespeare, Sleep, Washing, Writing
To sleep, or not to sleep?
That is the question:
Whether it is nobler in the mind
To kick-back and recline or
Do battle with a sea of washing and ironing
To iron or to sleep;
And by sleep to say we must end the rants:
The thousand toxic socks, and pants
To wash, to sweep, or to sleep;
To dream perchance.
For in that sleep what dreams may come
When barely any washing's done
Must give us pause;
If we forgo our daily chores.
For who would bear
The whips and scorns of time
Without bedsheets billowing on the line,
The pangs of Summer Breeze:
Bloomers flapping in the trees.
Who would grunt and sweat
Under a weary life,
That the dread of long Johns and nighties
Puzzles the psyche,
And make us wish to scream louder
And dispose of our washing powder.
The conscience does make cowards of us all:
Make hands tender; wringing out our smalls.
The fair Ophelia, Tina, John, Brian, Sheila;
Removeth your pillow-cases, covers,
Budgie-smugglers from display,
Thy housework need not be done today!
Ezekiel Fish 