Saturday October 14th, 2017

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the last day.

And another chapter comes to an end. I didn't exactly cruise over the finish line, as I hustled around town giving all the washrooms a final clean. I haven't even tried to do all the washrooms in one day since my first four day shift back in April (when I didn't know any better).

Got 'em done though, with enough time left at the end of the day to clean out the truck and organize supplies a little bit.

With it being a bit of a special day, I'm ignoring my own four line limitation. I hope you'll forgive me.

Mine:

My final day began beneath the stars.
There were no bikes on the road,
No vans, no trucks, no cars.

The cold was bitter and fierce
And continually pierced
My shirt, my sweater, my jacket -
I was shivering so hard
My teeth were making a racket.

My hands are blocks of ice,
My fingers can take
No more, so here I am
Texting silly poems to my love
On my coffee break.

The sun never shined,
Clouds permanently lined
The sky from north to south
And east to west.
But at the end of it all
I completed my quest:
The bathrooms, all clean.

Now the job has ended
So it is time
To end scene.

2 comments:

Greg said...

Congratulations on the last day! And... I'm impressed that when you started off trying to do all the bathrooms in one day was a struggle and now you breeze through it like a consummate professional :) When you say "organise supplies a little" do you mean "set up a booby-trap so that whoever tries to replace me ends up in the newspapers"? ;-)
I *guess* you're allowed to ignore your own limits. This once. :-P
I like how you turn your last day into a little epic, and I almost shivered with you in the second verse. The journey from starting the day before the sun's even risen is very nicely presented, and the hidden rhymes work beautifully in pulling the structure of the poem together. There's a certain amount of pathos infused into the words as well, so I guess you're a little sad to put this job behind you too :) Great work!

The last day
I hear the cultists chanting in a nearby room
And I cannot chase the thought away
That while they're bringing uncertain doom,
I'm rather pleased it's my last day.

Marc said...

Greg - thanks! :)

I am willing to admit to no such meaning.

And thank you for your kind comments on my indulgence of a poem.

I quite enjoyed the tale you've managed to fit into four lines of poetry here. Nicely done, sir.