I’d like to thank my wife

who fried the morning
egg so right and just—
who read my warning
glance, buttered my crust—
who washed my dirty
duds as if she must—
who silently let wordy
me not sweep, not dust
(me and my pipe)—
who satisfied my lust
and then sat down to type—

but I don’t have one.

20 responses »

    • Please don’t be sorry! I may be politically incorrect, but I didn’t intend this to be sad….it’s kind of interesting to me that it could work that way for some readers. It really is a throwback to an earlier time of “stand by your man” and all that. I myself still chuckle when I read it…..but then I do have an idiosyncratic sense of humor at times……dry them tears, your initial reaction was the intended one. πŸ™‚

  1. Cynthia this one is delightfully ironic with a touch of sadness, although that wife might have a difficult role – one which might be hard to maintain. I like the “ust” rhythm in the even lines.

    • You’re right about the wife here, poor woman, but of course she’s an exaggeration for the sake of effect. I am old enough to recall all those books (made from trees) wherein the front matter invariably included acknowledgement of a long-suffering wifey who also typed the manuscript–not so likely an occurrence among the young’uns now. Thank you for your nice comment!

  2. Hi Cyn, I’m still having problems with I loved your poem. It tickled my funny bone. I just loved the “ust” of it. I hope you get this comment. I lost my original comment. Oh well, a full moon! Bravo, Eileen

    • I wonder what on earth—or on the moon—could be happening between you and wordpress…..wish I could solve the hassle for you but I can’t imagine what the problem is. Anyway, you did get through, finally, and it’s a pleasure to hear from you. And thanks for appreciating the poem; would you believe it still tickles my funny bone too!

  3. Pingback: Our beautiful brains | Green Writing Room

    • So very sad. Im sure we will all miss Cynthia greatly. I know I will. She was a huge encouragement to my meagre poetry offerings,always urging me to keep writing. She had great talent in many directions, not the least, poetry

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