This is something i wrote several years ago under a different pseudonym and i thought, while i was in a silly mood, i’d reblog it! This is a true ‘story’ or should i say this is genuinely known as The Chamber of Horrors.



The cupboard under the stairs
Or originally, the larder
Otherwise known as
The chamber of horrors

It’s the chuck it in, dig it out
Lost the hammer
Found the dog
Sort of cupboard

It calls, ‘hey, clear me out’
I shout back, ‘another time’
With absolutely no intention
Of facing that nightmare

It houses all and sundry
Three buckets, at least
A kitchen broom; a garden broom
Three dustpan and brushes

One of which is long-handled
Purchased for the likes of us
Disabled folk, like myself here
Never touched; the brush, not me

A kettle with an element burnt out
An iron that’s got gum on the sole
A hammer with no head
An assortment of screws and nails

At least a dozen empty boxes
Of various shapes and sizes
Which’ll come in useful one day
Except one day hasn’t been yet

There’s a stationary box
With assorted paper clips, Bluetack
Stick up pads that have lost their sticky
Blunt pencil sharpeners and erasers

There’s a gardening box
Though I have no garden now
So it is pointless and redundant
Yet overflowing with secateurs and the like

The cupboard is full of cobwebs
Though thankfully no sign of a spider
It’s one of those jobs I always mean to do
Contrary to its contents,

My heart and soul are just not in it!


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