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Array
(
[sid] => 165123
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => just painting the decking
[time] => 2011-03-06 13:35:28
[hometext] => The pleasure of monotonous graft.
[bodytext] => Just painting the decking an arduous task the sun it is shining and in it I bask. The angles don't suit me. I fear for my tan. The top of my arse cheeks, neck, elbows and hands. Just painting the decking. Why did I start? Crawling round a wooden floor. Horse with no cart. The brush, it is thirsty the wood, it is too I shout for a drink. Door closed. Ignored. I'm blue! Just painting the decking. My back is now wrecking Splinters attack. zing! my hands I am checking. I count the planks off as I'm using the brush. Twelve down in a half hour there's no need to rush just thirty-two more to go, then one more coat. The boredom a pleasure. no need for a thought. I look up at the roof at the ridge tiles, remember last year three fell off was a windy November. Conservatory roof smashed what I didn't need . Cost a bucket of cash and in my head grew a seed. From that day on, worry! The wind, when it blew put me on edge, an illogical stew. Just painting the decking. I shake at the tin, alarmingly empty light rattle within. I look at the coverage printed on the side. 30 square metres! of the mark, that is wide! I hear water flowing as if from a pipe turn round to the house roof realise in a swipe wood pigeons are flapping their wings, I am tricked! The stress of belongings gets right on my wick. Forty four times two. Eighty-eight planks of work. I get in a rhythm, no longer berserk. My hand it flows quickly, I'm far more precise. if these were all years then I'd have completed a life. The first few were messy but by twenty-two I thought that by then I knew just what to do. By forty, I was wondering when It would be complete? due to pain in my back and cramp in my feet. For all of the work and the splash and the checking, got confused as to why I was painting the decking. for the colour and texture of wood, does it matter? Lot's of energy used at least I'm no fatter. In remembering I recall that halfway to end passed really quickly just like most things tend. just painting the decking, wish that was my life just painting the decking no room left for strife. Although there is one thing I just cant pretend life's different than decking for my thought on the end contrasts quite clearly for at both I'll be tired yes, at both I 'll be weary, unless early, I'm fired! Just painting the decking the contrast is this unlike life, at the finish the end will be bliss! [comments] => 2 [counter] => 99 [topic] => 21 [informant] => poeticjestix [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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