Stopping By My Living Room

My big project deadline is tomorrow.  So not much posting going on these days.  However, while I was busily creating maps in Photoshop today, my trusty radio was on in the background, and I learned, via The Writer's Almanac, that on this day in 1923, Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" was published.  Click on the link above and read how that poem came to be: it's a lovely and bittersweet story.

To celebrate "Snowy's" anniversary, and to get something up on this blog for the first time in several days, I am reposting my twist on Frost's poem, originally posted in May of 2010.  Given that I have been working nonstop for the past two weeks and paying scant attention to my domestic responsibilities, this poem is scarily apropos of my house at the moment.  Enjoy!

Stopping By My Living Room on a Regular Evening

Whose shoes these are I do not care
Their stink and steam do fill the air;
They’ve been here for a week or more
Kicked beneath the comfy chair.

There are backpacks thrown behind the door
And cheerios stuck right to the floor.
Is that a banana, for the love of God?
This disarray is the stuff of lore.

My three year old must think it odd
To see me hone my staff and rod
When spying books and dishes--UGH!
And towels and clothing stained with sod.

She gives her blankey a tighter hug
To warn siblings of the coming thug.
She sees the quaking in my gait
And tries to hide beneath the rug.

It’s chaos that I truly hate.
But with children, chaos is my fate.
The laundry's always in a heap.
The order always little and late.

The mess is scary, dark and deep.
But I have a house to clear and keep.
And heads will roll before I sleep
And heads will roll before I sleep.

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My inspiration.

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