Saturday Poems

Paint Night on Saturdays

brushstrokes across canvas of mine
flow smoother and mellower with wine



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

Sunday

Mondays are always blue
Tuesdays proved to be so too
never can find a way
to make it safely through
Wednesdays they came and went
now all the money's spent
yet wouldn't you know
it never even made a dent
Thursdays became a bust
and Fridays I just can't trust
they always let me down
leave me in the dust
Saturdays are shadow play
what more can I

Saturday Surprise

Poll Parrot belonged to little Addie, and he always lingered by her side.
People admired the well spoken companion, like the dusky skies, dyed.

Poll Parrot could talk a blue streak, and seemed like one of the family.
He greatly loved Addie's tea parties, when he ate toast and tea, gladly!

He loved flying around his garrett room, with

Saturday musings

Saturday musings~~


The
dance of seeming
opponents
which separation
makes apparent~
may suggest the
end of the gold
sought in separation~


Blood
flows apparently
and does not~
without not
the flow is lost~


Nothing
cannot be named
but the naming
of something
may seem
good enough~


Everything
is incalculable 
even something~
consequently
not knowing is
free to know
and not know~


Doing
is the suggestion
for progress~
working on a path
to the better~
it appears that way~


Faulty
are all words
in expressing
the inexpressible~
the prison bars
of confinement
and freedom~


Clockwork
seems

Saturday morning Routines

Saturday Morning Routines**

The familiar smell of wood smoke slowly filled my bedroom, wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. Through my window, I caught sight of the warm, flickering lights from the flambeau, casting dancing shadows on the walls. It was in that moment that I knew it was time to leave the warmth of

Sun-Shiny Saturday

Somewhat seem Spellbound, 
by the subtle and soft...
surrounding sounds, 
and the sensational surreal, 
spectacular scenery, 
somewhere on the south side...
of- "San Salvador" 
Sunbathing in silence... 
on the sandy seashore's shoreline, 
and sulking up the sunrays, 
in the scorching yet soothing
and self-satisfying, 
sublime...
sun!

Lawn Care

The sun is high in the summer sky
And no clouds to be seen
The grass is high neath the summer sky
And growing tall and green
The mower starts with growling roar
And cuts through swaths of fescue
This mowing proves a sweaty chore
And soon I beg for rescue
My lawn’s expanse appears to grow
The longer that I labor
Seems to expand

Saturday, We Hid

We watched him die, 
He was nailed up high, 
Alive for hours, 
Before the sky turned black; 
Thunder rolled, 
Lightning flashed, 
It is finished, was the cry 
That came final from his lips; 
He died, we cried, we ran and hid; 

He was taken and laid in a tomb, 
Borrowed from a friend, 
Laid there,

Saturday With Frank O'Hara

Mid Autumn, Saturday 6.30am
and daybreak is slowly climbing
over the back fence. 
Frank O'Hara's poetry is still
echoing in my head from reading
it last night as I cook breakfast
of bacon and eggs.
Later I walk up the street
to the chemist to get 
my blood pressure pills
and as I walk, compile arguments 
against Postmodernism 
and recognise that the notion

A Saturday like no other

i'm in a muppet mood today ~
suffering from a persisting hangover
i woke up silly stuffed and wabbly
goofy looney and scatterbrained
with bulging eyes and a bad hairday
even my voice sounded bizarre



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

Saturday

Saturday
A sad rain teases the windows
Spring worms wriggle gleefully
Robins do a wing shake flash dance
Wet squirrels shake their tails
The cat paws at the litter box
Dogs in tiny raincoats hide their faces
The garden Buddha stoically drips
I ponder the rings of my coffee cup
Saturday

Saturday Musing

Route 66

The death of the road
— the birth of a dream

(The New Room: April, 2025) 


Live More

If you’re light
on experience
your writing will suffer

Like clay
to the sculptor
— or drummer to the band

(Dreamsleep: April, 2025) 

The Ides of March

‘Beware the Ides of March.‘
(Julius Caesar, Act 1, Scene 2)


a week from Saturday is the Ides of March
perhaps I will stay home by myself
better keep an eye on the dogs though
they might have heard of Julius
and get some strange ideas

Saturn on Saturday Night

This rink ranks right up there.
My power skates, slice each ring,
the scent of ice assails my nose.
Funny in the absence of air, I breathe.
It must be a dream. I don’t care.
The wind of Saturn blows through my hair.
No wind, you say, but I will believe
what this dream gifts to me. Can’t believe
I’ve made it this

Lucky Day

Lucky Day

As luck would have it I:
put on the last pair of clean pants
spilled cereal on them
realized I was late for a meeting
ran through a stop sign
did not see the state trooper sitting there
got a hefty fine
rolled into an empty parking lot
fell into a pile of mulch
ran into the office
found out that it was Saturday
in

• Short Saturday Poems
• Famous Saturday Poems
• Best Saturday Poems
• Read Saturday Poems
• Long Saturday Poems
• Saturday Quotes