John Carter Brown


Ironing - Poem by John Carter Brown

I like the smell of ironing
It makes me think of home,
Of when I was a youngster
Long before I'd writ' a poem.

That sense of real security
Remembered as a dream,
Embedded in mum's ironing-board
And floating in the steam.

The swishing, easy movement
Was always just the same,
It lulled me to the edge of sleep
While whispering my name.

The pile of clothes was endless
It must have been a chore
To have us kids supplying it,
Not one or two, but FOUR.

There is no smell like ironing
The scent is all it's own,
I liked it when I was a child,
I like it now I've grown.

And when the time for ironing
The clothes again does come,
I'll take in that unique perfume
And think again of mum.

Written Feb 1995


Poet's Notes about The Poem

Silly, but it's true.

Comments about Ironing by John Carter Brown

  • Stevie Taite (11/21/2012 12:47:00 PM)


    This is lovely and I know what you mean, Always better when someone else does it though! I have to be in the mood! (Report) Reply

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  • (9/15/2012 9:15:00 AM)


    absolutely true-there's no other fragrance like it. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, August 17, 2012



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