Tag Archives: Weekend

Dearest Saturday

I worked all week,

I sweated and toiled,

I broke my back,

My plans were foiled,

My heart was shattered,

My brain turned to goo

So that, Dearest Saturday,

I could make it to you.

I slaved and I slobbered.

My displeasures grew

As I sat through lectures

I already knew,

I held off angry clients,

Protected my pen

So that we, Dearest Saturday,

Could be one once again.

Metaphorical dragons

Have fallen before me,

Slain so I could assure

That you would not deplore me,

And although I am thankful

To not be deplored

Why is it, Dearest Saturday,

That I’m this freakin’ bored?

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Saturday, March the Whateverth

You ever have

Those lazy days

Where you do nothing

In all sorts of ways?

You listen to comedy,

Read some books,

Watch youtube clips

Of stupid crooks,

Eat canned meat

And drink whole milk

And critique the jazz

Of Acker Bilk?

‘Til 5:00 PM

You stay in bed?

Me neither. What an imagination

In my head. 🙂

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Daylight “Savings”

We lost one hour

When we got out of bed.

Next year let’s do it

On a Monday instead.

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Apathy and all that

It’s a long weekend:

Yee hah and woo hoo!

You didn’t want a long poem,

Did you?

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Three Day Weekend

I’m busy as an ugly hooker,

Yet I have no free time

To clean the house or exercise

Or come up with a requisite rhyme.

The lazy Sunday model

Is how every day should be.

I’m doing the same this Monday.

Let’s hear it: Who’s with me?

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Daylight Savings

Weekends go too fast.

This one has one hour less.

Karma, I suppose.

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My Life Today

Sometimes one is inspired,
When in the morning he wakes,
To do and love and move and grow
And see the change he makes.

Other times that fellow
Awakens in the afternoon instead
And he writes a silly poem
Before going back to bed.

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Too Many Good Things

I can think of many reasons
That Friday is the king of days.
It comes before the weekend,
Which are the only better days.

But if every day were Friday,
Then weekends would never come,
And if every day were Saturday
We’d only work weekends, which is dumb.

If every day were Friday
We’d just have to call it “day.”
Perhaps the week is fine
In its own obnoxious way.

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