Whenever both your hands are full
There's always something to scratch?
It could be an eyelid, an ear or your nose,
Or even the top of your thatch.
And have you, like me
Been tormented by
This crazy and maddening desire
To throw off whatever you're doing
And halt this intolerable fire?
Have you noticed
Whenever both your hands are engaged
The telephone rings off the hook,
And again, you're a slave to another cold-call
Before carrying on with your book?
And have you, like me,
Confronted your mind
With the seeming impossible task
Of solving this baffling conundrum?
It's a question I needed to ask.
So, what unnatural law is it, I wonder
That governs this infuriating event,
One that belongs to 'sod' maybe?
I only know that too frequently
It happens, and it's perfectly odd.
No, that never happens to anyone else - just you! You must be doing something wrong. Oh, just kidding, of course. Yes, it is indeed frustrating - another of life's little mysteries. Lot of fun reading this one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed this poem since I have written one with the same title but the topic is so different. Thank you for a great write