Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com - Read, Rate, Comment on, or Submit Poetry. Browse Poetry Forums, or just enjoy other parts of our poetic community.
One of the largest databases of poetry on the net, now over 198,500+ poems!
Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com    Poems On Site: 198,500+   Comments On Poems: 427,000+   Forum Posts: 105,000+
Custom Search
  Welcome ! Home  ·  FAQ  ·  Topics  ·  Web Links  ·  Your Account  ·  Submit Poetry  ·  Top 30  ·  OldSite Link 21-November 21:42:06 AEST  
  Menu
  Home
· Micks Shop
· Our eBay Store· Error Submit
 Poetry
· Submit Poetry
· Least Read Poems
· Topics
· Members Listing
· Old Site Post 2001
· Old Site Pre 2001
· Poetry Archive
· Public Domain Poetry
 Stories
· Stories (NEW ! )
· Submit Story
· Story Topics
· Stories Archive
· Story Search
  Community
· Our Poetry Forums
· Our Arcade
100's of Games !

  Site Help
· FAQ
· Feedback

  Members Areas
· Your Account
· Members Journals
· Premium Sign-Up
  Premium Section
· Special Section
· Premium Poems
· Premium Submit
· Premium Search
· Premium Top
· Premium Archive
· Premium Topics
 Fun & Games

· Jokes
· Bubble Puzzle
· ConnectN
· Cross Word
· Cross Word Easy
· Drag Puzzle
· Word Hunt
 Reference
· Dictionary
· Dictionary (Rhyming)
· Site Updates
· Content
· Special Content
 Search
· Search
· Web Links
· All Links
 Top
· Top 30
  Help This Site
· Donations
 Others
· Recipes
· Moderators
Our Other Sites
· Embroidery Design Store
· Your Jokes
· Special Urls
· JM Embroideries
· Public Domain Poetry and Stories
· Diamond Dotz
· Cooking Info and Recipes
· Quoof - Australian Story

  Social

Bedok Terrace Gossip (The Feeble Fix-it Guy)

Contributed by CARAAAAA on Saturday, 11th January 2014 @ 12:29:55 AM in AEST
Topic: oops



Steadfast, every single morning

a wry, scrawny man

some 50 odd years of age

visits the slightly derelict house

diagonally across the street

shirtless,

with his tanned, concave chest

exposed to the elements

He tinkers about

with ramrod straight posture

industriously,

sometimes climbing

a precarious looking steel ladder

with a diminutive paint roller

in his wizened hand,

sometimes he is crouched over

at a corner

of a dishevelled looking garden

random clay pots

like tawdry motels

temporarily housing

a motley mess of plants

lives in disarray.

He toils away

at a thin, gravelly looking layer of soil.

Dry, parched

the asphalt driveway looks

so dry

that you wonder

doesn’t he feel thirsty,

labouring away under the hot midday sun?

In between his tasks

he sits in repose

on the pavement outside

facing the rundown palace

but he never looks idle

fixated with a look

of dilligent contemplation,

as he surveys

the greying

mould-marbled facade

of his conscientious work

worn, shabby, and wearily silent

in demeanour

Around 5pm everyday,

as the reassuring evening breeze

dulls the sheen of sweat

coating his skin

the wan man

leaves his supposed palace

its structure still fraying

like his threadbare khaki shorts

Half an hour later,

a non-threatening looking middle-aged lady

walks up to the porch of the house

arm in arm

with an equally gormless looking man.

She unlocks the gates

and enters the living room of the house

introducing elements

like green-tinged fluorescent lighting

and the chatter of a television

to the droll space

not that it makes much of a difference

to the sullen house

dulled with a feeble sadness.

The neighbourhood aunties say

that the wan shirtless man

who comes and goes

like a stubborn, skinny entity

was once married

to the lady

She wrested the haggard old house

from his grip

after their divorce

not quite

She may have moved on

but her quietly determined ex-husband

returns doggedly everyday

like a dutiful handyman

who has no qualms

fixing (or deconstructing)

the debilitated cliche

of a building,

incapable of improvement

structural or aesthetic

Everyday, he resolutely waves

his imaginary wand

over his faded fortress

but it looks as waxen as his face

Some say he’s tireless,

long-suffering.

The neighbourhood aunties say he’s tiresome,

insufferable

deluded and foolish even,

“He looks like a shoddy labourer”

another opines

staking his invisible claim

on a home that

he no longer sleeps in

Perhaps he’s trying to salvage

some semblance of domesticity

once his and hers.

Or perhaps

he’s a sweaty, hopeless romantic

clammy with sadness

translating his unrequited love

to an unresponsive

but non-judgemental structure.

Now and then he pauses

from his strict regimen

relenting,

he gives the neighbourhood children

a sanguine smile.

Recently,

he’s been looking more wan than usual.










Copyright © CARAAAAA ... [ 2014-01-11 00:29:55]
(Date/Time posted on site)





Advertisments:






Previous Posted Poem         | |         Next Posted Poem


 
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title etc.
Re: Bedok Terrace Gossip (The Feeble Fix-it Guy) (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Saturday, 11th January 2014 @ 10:37:42 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
This is very nice as in a story that's been less than written yet true.
You say fifty odd years, and it somehow reminds me of a painter who lived in a tiny house near mine as a kid, his name was Pete. The kids called him Pete the Painter mainly because he wore an all white suit with white painters cap always. Old Pete was the first dead body I ever saw. He was old, I think maybe eighty when he was found. Inside his tiny home, I mean really small, maybe 300 square feet at best, was all his belongings, a tiny old stove, a small bed, and crumpled old white clothes. Nobody really knew where he came from or who he was, or at least nobody ever said.

This is really good writing. I suppose I may have missed it's meaning, so I'll go back and try again.
Thanks!

Peace!


Re: Bedok Terrace Gossip (The Feeble Fix-it Guy) (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Tuesday, 14th January 2014 @ 02:44:01 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Superbly descriptive, and adorably readable.
There is a very thin line between admiration for The king of dogged determination, and scorn for the lord of lost causes.




While every care is taken to ensure the general sites content is family safe, our moderators cannot be in all places; all the time. Please report poetry and or comments that are in breach of our site rules HERE (Please include poem title or url). Parents also please ensure that you supervise your children well when they are on the internet; regardless of what a site says about being, or being considered, child-safe.

Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©

Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster

All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com

All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.

Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com