Tag Archives: #Friday


Friday comes but once a week

for that we must be grateful;

to have it any less at all

it really would be hateful;

two Mondays, or an extra day of Tues,

would give us the most horrible,

start-of-week blues;

and Wednesday twice

would be a double hump day,

upon which occasion

what on Earth would people say?

“Hump Day, then Hump Day… again!”

It would be most inconvenient,

and really quite a pain.

Hump Day should be Dromedarian,

and not Bactrian, as any fool must know,

so keep the days just as they are;

do you wish for change? –

I say it’s best vote “No!”

A Wintry Friday ‘Blast from the Past!’

A poem for a cold and frosty (Friday) morning.

My fingers type

the words;

no hype,

just honest

to goodness



in my fingers,

where I have none.


My brain



to keep the warmth

of creative thought alive;

but, there is a glimmer

from an unquenchable ember

that I have

deep in the heart of my being.

Friday, early, dark.

Before six a.m.

the Darkness believe in love,

Friday’s on my mind.


You can tell its pulse,

just by taking Friday’s wrist

and feeling the blips.


So, it’s still kicking,

raring to go, and…

let’s see what it brings.

Friday Frieze

Cold as it is,

It could be colder still,

and even colder than that;

Friday stands betwixt

Thursday and Saturday

like a colossus

(or a coldossus)

from architecture.

And, remember the old adage,

that buses always come in frieze.

On a Friday (extended)

On a Friday

What would you say

could be more wonderful

than writing poetry on a Friday?

Answers on a very large postcard.


No, seriously,

what could ever be better

than putting words together?


Obviously you have to be selective

with your word placements,

otherwise, dishclockpotatoes,

or cloth gaze mute paragraphs

might occur,


Thursday Afternoon

With five syllables

and only two longer words:

Thursday Afternoon.


Monday and Tuesday,

Friday, Sunday, and today,

also fit the form.


But not Wed-nes-day,

and defo not Saturday,

or yesterday day.

On a Friday

What would you say

could be more wonderful

than writing poetry on a Friday?

Answers on a very large postcard.

I woke up (and it wasn’t Friday)

I woke up with that Friday Feeling,

and was then informed

that if wasn’t.

What? I replied.

But, it must be! I continued.

Saturday? I queried.

Where did Friday go?

I asked.

I missed Friday? I questioned my sanity.

Nooooooo! I exclaimed.

I wanted it to be Friday.

But, it isn’t!

I cried

Friday Fail

It’s Friday

and I have nothing to say,

write, or put up for sale –

Friday fail.

“It’s Friday!” – Revisited!

Named after Freya,

a Norse goddess of fame,

who partied hard at the weekends,

to give Friday its name,

Friday, gets off lightly,

compared to the other week days –

it fares only slightly worse

than Saturday or Sunday –

and Friday night is often held

up high

as part of the weekend,

and a fine time to fly.