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The Poetry Pages

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The Wife

Wipe your feet, your dinner's cold,
Have you any money,
My shoes are worn, my coat is old,
Your jokes are never funny,
Will you make a cup of tea,
Turn the telly down,
No-one ever thinks of me,
They treat me like a clown,
The bathroom's nothing but a shambles,
A thousand bills we're owing,
The garden grows just weeds and brambles,
The knee-high grass needs mowing,
Our kids never eat their food,
They show me no respect,
Modern children all seem rude,
Their mother all neglect,
An average day, an average wife,
They moan at any cost,
We take their love, we take their strife,
Without each we'd be lost.

Poem by Charlie Barker

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Copyright The Bentilean 1999

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