The washing monster
How it grows
It's fed well
On our dirty clothes
Relentlessly
We do attack
But by the next day
It's grown back
He has a friend
That's equally vile
It calls itself
The ironing pile
Nice one Stevie, though my thoughts on ironing are completely different: See my poem 'Ironing'
You do well with poems dealing with things related to our life. Very Good Stevie
Oh can't we all just identify with this! ! It never ends does it. Very good Stevie.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hahah, , , , your poems are different and i love them, , , ,