My Messy Room

“Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.”

-T.S. Eliot


*For the millionth time I requested that Min and K clean the room they share. Given their penchant for the arts, most attempts to organize result in a jam session with K rocking out on guitar/singing and Min writing the lyrics/playing piano. Needless to say it needed a good cleaning and perhaps this time there could have been some strongly worded encouragement in the form of flat out threats of never seeing the light of day and being sold to the monkeys at the zoo. They finally went to work on it promising major improvements before bed. At 10 PM they come in to say that it is not done yet but they would finish in the morning and they had commemorated this occasion with poetry. With their permission, I proudly present to you the work of my oldest two talented ladies totally stalling. I’m starting to think I should request poetry every time they need an extension, loan or just because I love the way their minds work. *

messy 2

My Messy Room

By Min with help from K

I was just sitting down

Then I heard the sentence…

“Marin! Clean your room right this second!”


I walked down my hallway,

Then just stared at the door.

Piles upon piles of trash galore.


Ah man, I’m screwed

I thought to myself.

As I stared at the millions of books on my shelf.


I look at the floor

And glanced at the trash.

Oh, maybe I can sell this pile for cash.


Or maybe I can’t,

 cuz everything’s sticky.

Maybe the buyer won’t be so picky.


What? There’s shoes!

They are stuck to the wall.

There’s my brother’s little red ball.


I found it there,

Just under the shirt.

Over by my bed that is covered in dirt.


What do I do now?

Where’s my closet?

Do I shove it all there? Or do I just toss it?


I’m tired already.

I need a nap.

No Marin! You haven’t done crap!


My sister walks in,

I stare at her bleakly.

“Do all my work. I’m starting to feel sickly.”


Of course she said, “No.”

But I saw it coming.

What is that smell? It isn’t the plumbing.


I stood there blankly,

Right in my room.

There’s a pile of goo right next to the broom.


My calendars’ stained,

It’s from 2010.

I stepped in mystery liquid all over again!


I found my socks,

They are pinned to the ceiling.

The walls are leaking my stuff and they’re already peeling.


The trash is alive.

I think it might eat me.

I start to run but just as I flee.


Something grabs my ankle

I holler and scream!

Then I wake up, it was just a dream.

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    • The Momarchy Ladies on June 14, 2013 at 9:43 am

    Haha very talented!

  1. My kids think that moving stuff from one location in their room to another constitutes cleaning. And they NEVER make up poems about it!

  2. OMG, this is classic!

    My kids are 19, 18, and 16 and I’m STILL fighting them about their room. Now they have a reply, they tell me “Mom it’s my room” and I quickly remind them they are leasing it for a while and tell the 18 and 19 year-olds their lease is up when they turn 21 LOL. 🙂

    Loved the poem, thanks for sharing…it made my day!

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