Tag Archives: Weekends

Zero Weddings, A Funeral, And A Reasonable Question

This evening we sit

In memory of

A weekend that

We came to love.

‘Twas two days long,

Five days too short.

Why’s there no satisfying

Single player sport?

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Logic, American Dream Style

Monday through Friday

My heart’s only dread

Is that midmorning song

That says “get out of bed.”

Yet come days of Satur

And as well days of Sun

My heart sings in the morning

‘Til the day is all done.

For when clocks of alarm

Cracks serenity’s hold

And says “put on your clothes

“And go do what you’re told”

My vigor and pep

Aren’t what they used to be

Like when I was a child

And still blissfully free.

When instead of alarms

To the sun I awaken

And instead of my job

I get pancakes and bacon

My bliss flows more freely

And I feel stronger.

From now on I’ll work weekends

And be miserable longer.

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One Quiet Night

Some days you don’t have the blues.

Some days you don’t watch the news.

On days like these, at least for me,

It’s tough to write a travesty.

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#Weekends

#ThatMomentYouMustWritePoems

#ButWriteHashtagsInstead

#CauseItsThreeOClockOnSaturday

#AndYou’reStillHappilyInBed

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Holiday

I’m riding my bike on the beach

Eating the pit of a peach

As dolphins teach my dog

To critique pricey perfumes.

My face is bright with joy

And the salt wind in my hair

Makes me wonder as I pedal

“What was in those mushrooms?”

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What Is A Sunday?

if Monday was productive

It would be Tuesday instead.

If Tuesday were called “Hump day”

Maybe we’d want to get out of bed.
If the end was in sight on Wednesday

We would enjoy it more.

If after Thursday was a weekend

It would not be such a snore.
Saturday’s a Friday

During which we needn’t work,

But Sunday is what Saturday

Would be if it were a jerk.
On Sunday we do nothing

Just like on Saturday,

Except our nothing is interrupted

By our freedom sneaking away.
We’re filled to our proverbial brim

With end-of-weekend anxiety.

That is what a Sunday is,

Or maybe that’s just me.

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