12 November 2019

Nothing New




The same news, day in day out. We listen for slight variations as nationalists take over one country after another.  Dirty dishes balance high in piles before we tackle them, gingerly and firmly with liquid lemon soap on a sponge.  Always the glasses sparkle before the cups, saucers, spoons, forks, plates and pots.  Always I sponge and you towel, slowly.  Deliberately.  While the news hour drones on around us.
 
Cement grey sky gives
no hint of the light snow that
suddenly blossoms.








My blog poems are rough drafts.
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© 2019 Susan L. Chast
 
 

3 comments:

Thotpurge said...

Oh how easily the horrors become the new normal.. love how you bring it into your poem with the mundane chores of the day. Thanks so much, Susan.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Love this! The listening to the news over the dishes was reminiscent of my childhood. The closing haiku suddenly changes the perspective – a welcome reminder.

Kim M. Russell said...

You’ve captured the dreariness of being constantly surrounded by the same news, Susan, of history constantly repeating itself, with no lessons learned. I love the detailed description of washing the dishes, the sparkle a contrast to the news and the ‘cement grey sky’ – and then a hint of hope in the snow that suddenly blossoms.