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Poetry
Days End
By Robru
11 June 2008
Being retired means that the end of the working day has nothing to do with a clock.



         
              The outside work is now complete,
              At least, enough for today. 
              I'm going to sit down and rest
              That's where,and I hope its true
              My cold beer is ready waiting;
              I'll even share a glass with you.

              I use a bit if time updating
              The list of odd jobs to do.
              There's fencing that I'm hating.
              Those fences are not new,
              Posts rotted with age at the base,
              And some wires are rusted through.

              The garden's in need of weeding
              Fruit trees are ready to prune
              Weeds are already seeding
              That's normal for the month of June.

              The workshop is used so often
              Needs some tidying here and there
              Sawdust and shavings all over the place
              And my tools scattered everywhere.

              Then a smile cracks my craggy face,
              And that's quite a sight to see
              When this damn bottle's empty
              I'll have to open another case.
     
 

© Copyright 2007 Bob - now retired (UN: rbruce


Reviews

Written by Brett (720 comments posted) 11th June 2008
This is a poem that I can identify with very much, Bob.  
As a pedant of form I could gripe here and there, but the fact is the overall sentiment means more to me - I have had notes scribbled for ages regarding a working man's reward, but I think your final stanza really sums it up! 
 
Cheers

Written by mia_ms_kim (951 comments posted) 11th June 2008
There is always something peaceful, calming and sweet about your poems about your work, Bob. It's as if despite your "complaints" about the unfinished work, untidy work space etc, you are really proud of the work of your hands and happy with your life.  
 
There is something very healthy and fulfiling about the manual work we do with our hands, I think. There is a sense of accomplishment, and the physical exertion that's gone into it, is good for the body and not wasted.  
 
I keep harping on about the city life, but we pay money to get gym membership to sweat over threadmills - all that energy going nowhere! In fact we consume energy to run those electric equipements. We will go green faster if we did some honest hard manual work instead of going to the gym all the time. And it will produce something useful at the end! 
 
Let me stop whining. I am reminded, my backyard needs de-jungling! 
 
Mia :p

Written by Robru (199 comments posted) 12th June 2008
I thank you both, Brett for being kind to me about form of the poem and for acknowledging that he can relate to the story. And a special thank you to Mia for recognising that I am indeed proud of the work I do with my hands. My father said to me a long long time ago,when you work with your hands at anything, do a really good job no matter how dirty you get, you can wash dirt away easily. He is right. I have proved it many times over during my lifetime. And I still enjoy doing it ,every day.
Agree Wholeheartedly!
Written by Katanga (1129 comments posted) 12th June 2008
I couldn't agree more with Brett and Mia! And I think your father's advice was very wise. 
 
A splendid poem of quiet celebration! 
 
Thoroughly enjoyed this, Bob! 
 
And the final stanza shows you're a man after my own heart . . . 
 
Cheers! 
 
John

Written by Robru (199 comments posted) 13th June 2008
Thanks John, my father was a man of few words, but a wise man indeed.

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