My house jobs list grows day by day
and the mess is unforgiving.
Scrape the walls, plaster falls away,
creates a sense of misgiving.
The walls are crumbling, paper peels,
old bathroom tiles need regrouting.
Kitchen chair spins on broken wheels
and the outside drain is spouting.
Houseplant droops with yellowing leaf,
beds need changing, rug reproaches.
Washing is endless. No relief.
Writing squeezed; housework encroaches.
Endless job list grows day by day.
What happened to simply living?

9/1/2026
Some nice alliterative phrases in your poem and i like the last two lines as almost a reprise of the opening two. It adds a nice symmetry to the poem. I like the rhyming of grouting and spouting and there is a definite feel of despair in the writing at the never endingnesz of household chores. In fact I am pretty sure more lines could be added.