A “Poem of the Day” is a short, freely written piece that is a good way to warm up for a writing session. Poems of the Day are not meant to be great poetry but rather a way of checking in to see what’s on your mind or to capture an odd thought. Here’s one of mine. I’d love to see one of yours posted as a Reply. Try it!
Basics
Watermelon tastes fantastic on a hot day.
Spiders are creepy.
Clean laundry smells good.
Yellow tablets mean work.
Don’t try to trick me. I don’t like to be tricked.
Stories make better messages than rules.
10 Responses
I’m melting, will summer ever leave town?’
Does my epidermis offend you?
I love the smell of tires burning rubber in the morning.
Is sports the new religion?
Why does TV waste so much time watching me waste time watching TV?
Well that brought a chuckle. I got a whiff of “Apocalypse Now” with the smell of tires burning rubber in the morning. But you save the best for the last line. And no, your epidermis is just fine. Walk on, Walk!
Dog bodies keeping barefeet warm
Mind is waffling, decision torn
Things to do list feeds the guilt
That screams at me I must, I should.
But who is it that makes the list?
That says my days should all consist
Of chores that never leave the queue
But cycle first to last anew
Then I realize it’s me
That’s been ingrained to be a bee
Always busy get it done
Chores come first before the fun
So, I let the warmth creep into mind
And sit as time is undefined
A cheshire smile blooms on my face
I kind of like this newfound pace
I put this on the 2012 poem of the day so I transferred it here
Dog bodies keeping barefeet warm
Mind is waffling, decision torn
Things to do list feeds the guilt
That screams at me I must, I should.
But who is it that makes the list?
That says my days should all consist
Of chores that never leave the queue
But cycle first to last anew
Then I realize it’s me
That’s been ingrained to be a bee
Always busy get it done
Chores come first before the fun
So, I let the warmth creep into mind
And sit as time is undefined
A cheshire smile blooms on my face
I kind of like this newfound pace
What a great contemplation on the fight to balance the urge to be productive with the need to slow down and “let the warmth creep into mind.” I, for one, am right there with you. Plus, there is guilt involved, as you say. To rest is vaguely sinful; we’re no longer doing good but wasting our time. Great topic. I could go on and on!
Sounds like you’ve been keeping up your writing!
All the very best,
Ann
I’m in.
I mean
I min-
imally mean
to come back here again
again and again.
LAK
Lawrence,
I’m glad you are intending to come back. I’m still learning to use this site, so forgive my late response. I am here! And will try to be more on time.
I shall interpret “min-imally mean to come back here again” as good news. Meanwhile, I shall attempt to capture your attention with unsuspected words. How we all love surprises.
Onward!
Ann
🙂
Looking for Michael
Where has he gone?
Swallowed up by the earth
On a frosty morn
Never see him
Don’t hear his voice
I sure do miss him
But he’s made the choice
Barb,
That’s quite a mysterious poem! It makes sense to me until the last line when I have to wonder if Michael was a suicide. In that case, this is quite dark. It makes us think at the end. Poem of the Day–it’s a keeper!
Ann