Only A Housewife

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Looking for a job where you’ll be looked down upon, bored, lonely, unappreciated and unpaid? Then look no further…

Submitted: March 12, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 12, 2016




Hello, I’m only a housewife.

I lead a dull and boring life.

I knew not, when I met my spouse,

I’d end up married to a house.


I used to have a good career,

Prospects, promotion every year,

Until ill health came to spoil it,

Then my job went down the toilet.


I had responsibility,

But now I clean, and cook the tea.

Nobody asks me what I think,

I’m shackled to the kitchen sink.


There’s little point in what I do,

I mop the floor, and clean the loo,

I make the place look nice, but then,

The dirt only comes back again.


It’s boring and repetitive,

Not thrilling or competitive,

And people treat me like a jerk

Because I don’t go out to work.


I see the world go rushing by,

While I stay home alone, and sigh.

Sometimes the highlight of my day

Is when they take the trash away.


I resort to conversation

With a talk radio station.

It’s not the company I’d pick,

I think the DJ is a dick.


Is my existence just a sham?

I cook, I clean, therefore, I am.

But it feels sad and demeaning,

Knowing my life has no meaning.


I am a droid, no longer me,

I’ve lost my own identity.

Just someone’s wife, and someone’s mum,

I have no voice, I’ve been struck dumb.


I wonder, “What’s the point of me?”

I muse, “To be or not to be?”

I’m not important, and I fear,

No one would care if I weren’t here.


And when at last, I end up by

That great ironing board in the sky,

They’ll only notice I am dead

Because no one has made the bed.


The world will revolve just the same,

Though no one will recall my name.

The only remnant of my life

On my tombstone, one word, ‘Housewife’.

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