Saturdays Poems - Poems about Saturdays

breakfast pizzas!

There’s a farmers market near campus.
A young couple has a pizza oven on a trailer.
They make a breakfast pizza - bacon, mozzarella
some egg and green peppers. It’s SO crispy and delicious.
ALL I had to do this morning was say “breakfast pizza!”
and six of us were ready to head out fifteen minutes later.

Let’s wax poetic, shall

Ride'em Cowboys

old spaghetti westerns
and john wayne flics
what better way to spend
saturday afternoons

weekly shoot 'em ups
where at the end
cowboys and their horses
ride toward a dusty sunset


AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025

Banned Book Club

Her childhood stories bring tears to the eye
They’re of her overcoming difficulties
In an abusive family life
The subjects in racist societies
Molestation and racism are two reasons why
Traumatization had caused her to be  MUTE
They ban books for the harsh reality they deny              

Two Saturdays

Last Saturday we were in France;
To go abroad, we took a chance.
We got to sightsee, dine and dance
And stroll through charming streets.

We had some laughs and made some friends,
Which oft are travel’s dividends
As from real life, a trip transcends
With unexpected treats.

This Saturday I’m stuck at home
With Covid, not about to roam
But able, still, to write

Saturn Saturdays

I’m bloom to consume more than a few words on this paper to presume/
I pick to pitter patter playing on a plum/
Planning a ploy on a punk as I’m plotting a plan for the plot/
In a tight spot or not my light will burn hot/
I spite a slight stop as I o jot and stay

Saturdays In the Park

I remember those Saturdays in the park
We picnicked and played the live-long day,
As I recall, nothing seemed ominous or stark
I remember those Saturdays in the park,
Softball, horseshoes, badminton ‘til dark
Seems life was filled up with fun and play
I remember those Saturdays in the park,
We picnicked and played the live-long day.   

Written April 2,

Saturdays Rest

                      Just relaxing, 
                      safe and sound.
      

Summer Saturdays

On a Michigan farmer Saturday
in August,
anticipating tomorrow's evangelical Sabbath,

When late summer vacations
invoked sanctified house cleanings
more unusually light,

Heading outside after lunch
into this spectacularly breezy
blue billowing
discontinuously cumulus cloudy
in-between radiant sky blue
infinite wonder

Into this awesomely long leisurely afternoon
becoming one of those special kids
sent out to rediscover solitary play
while Mom clears HER kitchen
to fill grateful mouths and noses
with impossible

Remembering Those Saturdays

In the morning we were fresh and alert.
Taking an art class every Saturday
So we could go up on the teacher’s pay scale.
There were three of us. Marty, Katy and me.

We found a restaurant that we adored – the Pier.
Their food was amazing, and they would bring a pitcher of margaritas.
The pitcher was only eight dollars,

Saturdays

saturdays
hockey night in canada
~ phone best stay silent

Funerals On Saturdays

Funerals on Saturdays

In a hall or a tent
a priest or pastor is sent
to lead
and the sacred book to read
for a homily
to comfort a greiving family
for its beloved is late
friends to this may relate
carried are heavy coffins
as we eat muffins
whilst runs a sad-tear
because of fear
as we mourn
the death of a one once born
listen to the crowd
singing

Death On Saturdays

Saturdays Smell Funerals

Weddings are scarce
Funeral are all over 
Coffins are famous
Countless deaths
Our friends die
Our loved ones depart
One by one like flies
On Saturdays are buried
We remain lonely
Tears have become friendly
Smiling is rare
Only mourning
Lamenting experience
Happiness is drought
Our hearts have become a desert
Because of funerals
Saturdays' sad occassions.

Drencho POET Loads

Star Clipper Saturdays

I think in curls that bounce in the near-Spring sunlight
and brown eyes that burn with a wisdom expanding years unknown to me.
Brave face.
Shrug it off.
This flush of red sells me out
When lips meet flesh and soft words meet eardrums.
My knees no longer exist.
My mind no longer exists.
I'll hold on to this obsession til the sun

No Mail On Saturdays

There won’t be mail on Saturdays;
The P.O.’s cutting back.
Surprisingly, the news was met
With very little flack.

For fewer things come in the mail;
Most pay their bills online,
Although the mailmen still deliver
Whether rain or shine.

A very distant memory
Within my mind holds sway,
Of postal workers showing up
Two times in just one day.

Perhaps I just imagined that
But it’s not

Heavenly Saturdays

On Saturday
they say
heaven feels closer
penetrating cigarette
smoke
a poser forgets that the
choke
is universal
mercurial
and shivering
as the buzzard circles
a carcass deserted
but tolerated by 
those determined
and quivering
but the faithless
push past the putrid
and dwell on what’s heartless
they transform the scene
and taint the evidence
in between
they chum up the killers
fisher’s of recompense
and kings of the wondering
as souls puncture the
cigarette smoke
to attack the clanging

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