Short Saturdays Poems

Sorry State

Self-flagellated sinuses
Sandpaper swallowing
Sinuous snot surmounted sneezes
Strange sultry speech sounds sexy
Stupid sickness
Saturdays should be savored.

Easter Saturday

Everytime you cry from pain
Allow my love to rain down.
Saturdays were made in honor of you;
Tailoring your wonder-filled plans,
Eyeing down the monsters then
Running like mad into my arms.

Tom and Jerry

Saturdays, Tom and Jerry ruled the roost
Their antics gave my young life a real big boost
Laughing was the rule
Hallelujah, no school
They were hilarious, many chuckles they induced

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

Everyday

Saturdays child learns
to tie his shoe laces
one fugit of time cascades
Butchers tales lasting longer
the sound of trees to a blind man
out of fashions glare
I do declare,
Uptight seasons with a ransom to care
Merriments timing celebrating
second gear

Weekend

Moments drip together like a warm ice cream; on this sticky, putrid night...
August can go straight to hell; it's October that's in my sights...
Fall away these redundant times, as I drown in Thursdays...
Mimic happiness thrown like a life saver, longing for Saturdays...

1980s childhood

1980s childhood Haikus

Tech-free

Nature's performing
Batteries not included
childhood playground 


My bike

Pink banana seat
A basket full of daisies
Warm wind on my face


Saturdays

Cartoons and breakfast
The sky our only roof top
Street lights call us home

Weekend Blowout

Friday has come 
And here I go
Ready to take up the weekend
Ready to blow the Saturdays with laziness
Ready to greet Sundays in Sabbath
Ready to start the Mondays in guile And climb over the hump-day
Back to Thursday, it's getting a lil' bit more easier now to deal wtih the days 
That may pass us by seven at a time

Impromptu

i work
Saturdays
i work
Sundays
seems that
i work
everyday

still it pays
the bills and
saves
me mentally
my mentality
is casually
getting
caustic
lately

toxic words
dripping
drooling
from my mouth
lips covered
with froth
rapidly
rabidly

causing me
to run
rampantly
stop
standing up
put me
down

Words In My Mouth

words in my mouth

Democracy 
is like poetry 
only nice 
when it flatters us  


French culture 
is about the female believing
she is beautiful 


Perfume
even the expensive one 
is not about cleanliness 

the Louvre 
had everything 
except a proper loo

Small hotel in Paris
hot water for shower
only on Saturdays

Sarah and Sally

Sarah and Sally were two neigh-
bors that used to be best friends.

But one Autumn day their friend-
ship came to an end.

They became instant enemies,
They weren't even frenemies.

So,Sarah Sue sued Sally Smith
several Saturdays and Sundays
each Spring.

Inspired by the tongue twister 
time contest 


11-24-16
Alexis Y

October Suns

October Suns

October suns are a fire
that set the orange leaves
aglow
sprinkling embers in Maple leaves
to make them blood red.
October Saturdays always have sunshine.
There are colors-plenty,
yellow, green, black
opal and tourmaline
with blue atomic skies

10/3/19

40 Words
45 or Less Words
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger

The Hours

It's time
 seconds slipping by
 minutes in the hurry fly
 hours in hesitation's wait
 days lost of work and play gait
 weeks gathered in forty hours
 ends on Saturdays and Sundays showers
 months strecthed into seasonal displays
 years aging graying in the fray
 decades passed quick away
 time compresses all life's flowers
 down to the present now in hours.

Growth

Wet, cool, soothing to my soul,
Earth between my toes,
Mud pies on fall Saturdays,
Brisk fresh air, ah contentment.

Molding clay between my fingers,
Creating works of art 
From my inner depths,
Human spirit, gift from God.

Who are we to question why?
God is molding clay
To be fired with the trials of a lifetime,
Contentment and acceptance are most desired.

a tiny girl
unexpected
unwanted
mother turned her back
father unprepared
did his best
mostly wanted his wife back
ran in that direction
so I came
Saturdays
washed her face
fixed her braids
took her out into the sun
to the zoo
swimming too
we ate popcorn 
made christmas cookies
her smile came back
her face shone to see me
and I loved her loved her
most of all.

My Best of Friend

Finally found my best of friends for life,
Been such a long time since speech was done,
Wondering where they've been, Probably having fun.
But since they've been in my life,
Now smiles appear more,
Laughs are shared,
And happiness is aware.
Now hugs are paired,
Kisses bared.
Saturdays spending fun,
Till' the end of the day, where there's no sun.
I found my best of friend for life!

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, 2022

Progress

PROGRESS

What happened to that coffee bar
With the pinball  machine
That focused our attention and verve
On Saturdays when I was sixteen?

Where did all those girls go
That wore flared skirts and white socks
As we listened to American rock ‘n’ roll
On the juke box?

They’re still around,  but changed
With time’s passage there;
And the phenomenon called progress,
Diluting the verve, damping the flare.

Friendship and Coffee

Saturdays, together, drinking coffee
stoking caffeine, we held life in our hand.
Looking back now, our dreams were too lofty.
With rich-bodied coffee, we saw life's plan
as one of beauty in a magic land.

Koffee klatches we lost somewhere in tiime.
But in rich aroma dwell memories
of friendship and coffee--moments sublime
when life held such promise and energies
and a cup of coffee held reveries

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 my poem,
With which this line completes.

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

From Now On

From now on
I am not going to watch any
 TV show I do not choose

From now on
I am not going to say yes
When I really want to say no

From now on I am going to
Only turn the phone on
When I want to call
Someone.

From now on
It is all about me.
I am going to be 
Super selfish about this.

From now on
I am going to spend
My Saturdays doing
Only what I want
To do.

I guess I will be alone.
From now on.

Farmers Market

Farmer’s Market was ablaze with colors, textures, sound and produce.
Not a lot of negotiating like the old days. People pay the price asked.
The farmers who have sold everything begin loading up empty trays.
Heading home for a little nap, since they have been awake since four a.m.
Regular buyers, regular sellers, greeting each other, sharing stories.
It is a bustle and rustle of activity. The happening place on Saturdays.

Partition

Oh, please just don’t fight!
I know you don’t love each other;
It’s me, who to decide
With whom I’ll be with; or 
Where to go for seven days;
Three days for you, daddy!
Three days for you, mommy!
Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays or TThS;
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays or MWF; 
Which one of this two you prefer, you decide? 
I have a God and Sunday is for him;
Thou, it’s just one day, yet 
I feel much of his love.

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 rises
(or until he speaks my name again).
My logic has failed me once more,
and my heart remains the victor.