Monday starts the week,
Other days follow Monday,
Nine days in total—
Definitely ‘nine’ I say,
And you only have to count—
Yesterday, and then Today.
Monday starts the week,
Other days follow Monday,
Nine days in total—
Definitely ‘nine’ I say,
And you only have to count—
Yesterday, and then Today.
Monday starts the week,
Other days follow Monday,
Nine days in total—
Definitely ‘nine’ I say,
And you only have to count—
Monday starts the week,
Other days follow Monday,
Nine days in total—
“It’s Mañanaday!”
It’s a Monday.
Did you know, that of all the poems written on a Monday…
…this is one of them?
Not, that this does seem to be a poem… yet!
I bet you can’t see one single rhyme in this that makes it feel anything like a poem… give it time.
It could just be prose.
Who knows the difference?
I don’t – which is not to say that you won’t either.
Neither has distinguishing features; and, poets, being such fussy creatures, usually write in short lines and blocks of lines that they call ‘stanzas’.
“Bananas!” I say
To that.
I’m not the sort
Who writes of a cat
Sat upon a mat –
No, I talk like a toff in a cummerbund and cravat
Nothing else
What do you think of that?
My story is sad
My story is long
My storey is three buildings high
(I don’t know why)
And that just seems wrong.
Anyway, don’t let Monday get you down, and cause you to wear a frown.
Tuesday will be along soon
And we all know what that means.
I’ve got my Monday socks on,
on a Friday:
I’m a rebel,
I’m a rebel.
I told you it was Friday,
when it’s really Saturday:
I’m a rebel,
I’m a rebel.
In actual fact
it’s a Monday
I’m a rebel,
I’m a rebel.
and I’m not wearing any socks –
I’m a rebel,
I’m a rebel,
I’m a fib-telling,
non-sock-wearing,
little rebel.
PS in case you are confused, it ‘is’ Monday, and I ‘am’ wearing socks – so, not too much of a rebel.
G:)
Monday comes at no request
I tried to stop it
I did my best
I tried to keep the weekend going
for one more day;
but nothing I could do
nothing I could say
would keep that day at bay…
would keep that day away.
If every day
was a Saturday
or a Sunday,
and there was no imminent Monday –
how would that work?
.
Would we Groundhog Day
the weekend?
Rewind and repeat
until the very end of time?
.
How would ‘that’ work?
.
Would we learn the piano,
foreign languages,
how to ski,
actually be?
.
Would we make a difference?
To only have it reset,
before a Monday morning’s wet dawning
ever dampened our dreams?
.
Groundhog Weekend?
06:00 comes yet again;
reality numbs
(and though there is rain),
“At least we’ve still got the weekend, Babe.”
.
©️graemesandford.com
Tuesday is here,
until it’s gone
(see Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Tuesday’s Gone’ for more on that last part),
and it followed closely on the heels of Monday
(see Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’ for more on that),
precursoring Wednesday
(precursoring is a made-up word)
and claiming to be ‘Hump Day’
(see a camel for details about ‘humps’).
So, should we worry about what the day is called,
or where it lays in the ‘seven’?
(or ‘eight’ – see The Beatles about ‘eight’).
Well, I may have a lot of questions;
but, answers?
What do you think?
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Humpday, #Monday, #poetry. #poem, #silly, #Tuesday, #Wednesday, @Days, words
I’m getting lazy
as the day is wearing on,
and my syllables suck.
A Monday after-
noon Haiku just doesn’t fit
the format neatly.