Jerry Behr Number 2

Rookie - 0 Points (3/2/1951 / Netherlands)

Moving To Cartwright - Poem by Jerry Behr Number 2

I moved to my new address in May everything is in boxes which has to be unpacked later, along with everything electrical which has to be untangled.
I’m a poet I like rummaging for words not managing this chaos yet I have to
manage this chaos in order to get to the words; which momentarily I’ve lost.
My wife and I threw out a lot we didn’t need; I hope the words weren’t tossed.

When we arrived the landline didn’t work, and the post didn’t work
properly, the letters went to the next door neighbour’s house. For the time being I needn’t bother about looking for words, nothing can be found.
We guided the furniture removalist and the furniture they were throwing.
My first priority amongst this chaos was to get the T.V. going.

After a couple of hours the dust had settled and the furniture removalist
left. My wife and I sat down and had a cup of coffee amongst the boxes and the chaos surveying what had to be done next. In my mind’s eye I was looking for words but I knew I’ll have to forego my words and help my wife.
I knew if I didn’t help untangle everything electrical I would be in strife.

Janet did the unpacking of the boxes; I installed the computers and the printer and sound systems. While I was reconnecting the internet I hoped the words would pop out, but alas I had no time for that. We had arguments about which were higher priorities where things should go and what to do.
She seemed a bit bossy; I wanted my words back I wanted to hide in the loo.

All my power tools were in make shift storage in her pantry outside along the back wall of the house; the shed had not yet arrived. Janet got a new pantry from the housing commission but no cupboards. “Bugger! ” My computer crashed, I’ll never get to my words now. “I’m not telling a lie
honey I have to go see my computer geek” Janet looked at me with a sigh.

It took four weeks to unpack and untangle and straighten our house out and still there are things to be put in their proper places. The missus seems now house proud always telling me to wipe my feet and I’m not allowed to make a mess. I got my computer back from the geek and asked what was wrong
with it? The geek shrugged his shoulders said the computer still ran strong.

Guess that’s the reason why he’s called a computer geek (the guy who understands computer viruses, log ons, etc. etc. etc.) I only make words, which is something I can do right now. “Bugger! ” Now I receive the news that the FAW is nearly going to the wall for lack of a managerial team.
I believe that such an organisation would find someone it would seem.©

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 12, 2011

Poem Edited: Friday, May 13, 2011

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