Friday, April 11, 2008

Human Doing

I try to do it all at once
And nothing gets done
I try to do it in order of importance
And nothing gets done
I do it starting with where I am
And move outward from that
And everything that needs to be done, is done
But is it ever really done?
Or does it just need doing again and again?

At the end of the day would I be happier if
I spent the day with dust motes or dogs?

I know the answer
Still, every mote must have its day.

5 comments:

BBC said...

I gave up trying to get it all done. Don't do much planning anymore, just get up and see where the universe takes me each day.

This morning I worked on the camper some, now I'm going to take Helen to the hair dresser, then we will stop at the health food buffet so she can show off her new doo a bit.

Mim said...

Woman's work is never done....

human being said...

But is it ever really done?

perfectionists would answer no!
;)
lovely poem. and so true..

Debra, I loved your line in the chain poem very much... it was so thought-provking.
Love.

Forever Young said...

this is a great poem.
i seem to hurry to get things done before i can do other things, then i have to do those other things before i can get some nice things done, then i have to rush through those things cos other things have come up...
just writing about it makes me tired.
keep up this poetry, it's your thing!

Debra Kay said...

So, I'm thinking about the is it done thing-before my morning coffee so be patient.

If we say "Oh, I wish I didn't have to mow the lawn ever again!" do we really mean that? What if that meant never walking again?

I wonder what makes us wish for the end of some things and not others. For instance, some naughty dog (Oliver) didn't go outside this morning, took a detour in the living room and peed on some papers I was filing. (Ok, they were on the floor, my bad) It never occured to me, till now, to wish I didn't have to pick up dog pee again because I'm sure that I will as long as I have dogs, especially young ones and old ones.

So, getting flustered at paying the bills or washing the clothes is kind of like getting mad for a puppy who piddles in the wrong place because he got distracted.

Maybe I need to learn to love paying the bills as much as I love picking up dog piddle.