Short Tuesdays Poems
Short Tuesdays Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Tuesdays by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Tuesdays by length and keyword.
Weekdays
I like Mondays
it starts hopefully
Tuesdays
are a setback
then it goes
downhill
all the way
to bloody Sunday
Many ladders
prayers
silences
tears
overjoyed
at movement
silences
Tuesdays
battered...
joyful
Tuesday
A Tuesday with tacos is swell,
But Wednesdays can sometimes be hell;
For south of the border
To remain in order,
You’d best stay away from the Bell!
I sometimes forget advancing years
Then a reminder blindsides me
Senior discounts, free Tuesdays
Sad eyes in my mirror
Daily aches and pains
Compensations?
Little voice
Love you
Nana
I feel an October ache
when moonlight lies on branches
and dreams as old as the South
drift on the Western breeze.
If I wake,
I'll buy turquoise on Tuesdays
and wait for a bus to the Grand Canyon.
pepperishly lively
she brought the party
activity director
better than Vitamin B
Grumpy ones pretended not to like her
But the light in their eyes
unveiled their truth
And they were the eager ones
Watching the doorway on Tuesdays at two o’clock
Foggy monday
Mourning sunday
Saturday blackout
Death by boozing Friday bruiser
Thursdays web of mid-week loser
Wednesday filled with pills and shots
Drink it up with Tuesdays lot
Foggy Monday finds its calling
In a sweaty sot on the ground, crawling
Space creatures?
No. I don’t believe in them.
Space dogs? You are being ridiculous, aren’t you?
Space cats? No!
Space trees? Space monkeys? Space butterflies?
NO! I scream at my extraterrestrial faerie dragon.
I don’t even believe in you on Tuesdays.
Hairy spiders do not grill
steaks on consecutive Tuesdays
due to alternate-side-residency-
restrictions in bushes on parkways
Nevertheless, if seeking opportunities
to slake cracked-throat-thirst
Welcome to the Wetlands
where founts of poetry burst
Turquoise trees sway in my dreams
Unicorns fly high with white wings
Emerald dance of the music man
Singing with green guitar in hand
Dainty Donna an artist true blue
Always doing portraits so neon new
You are her subject at the poetry slam
Snapping fingers words sweet peach jam
Wrestling in kitten-covered lawns,
Driving through your potato heart,
What did we begin?
When did we start?
Smoothing into your pixilated hair,
Bending into the fields with angels,
Why have we softened?
Where are the angles?
Ambrosia Wednesdays, Alfalfa Tuesdays,
Send me your message in big, bright colors.
How have we forgotten?
Who now sits in our old parlors?
I was born on a Monday
At times my life goes a stray
Tuesdays was Happy Days night
during school it eased the fright
Wednesday is always hump day
heavy lifting worth the pay
Thursday the weekend is near
soon I’ll be feeling no fear
Friday best day of the week
man and woman cheek to cheek
Saturday known for cartoons
and the best were Looney Tunes
Sunday is the Sabbath
for some Monday is math
The dancing house at twelve hundred O’toole
Was on the path to my childrens’ school
On Tuesdays she would jive and dip
Weird to see her spin on this short lived trip
This would not be so bad said my neighbor Sue
But some days she flips her foundation and shows panties too
A house with bloomers? Can you imagine this on your way to school?
If you cannot, better head out to twelve hundred O’Toole.
I like a man... who thinks with his mind.
Not the part...in front of...behind.
One who hugs... all your tears away.
Not afraid... being sensitive and brave.
Unashamed... of a pain your feeling.
Being there..in moments of reeling.
Help in processing... unabashed being.
Sending fears... into...last Tuesdays evening.
The Might Have Been and the Never Was,
The Futures That Died, The Forgotten Cause,
The Unmet Dreams from Yesterdays,
All meet for lunch on odd Tuesdays,
Where they complain about the sorry state
Of Things As They Are, (who’s always late),
And talk about their aches and their pains,
And stumble about on crutches and canes,
While The Resolutions from last New Year’s Eve
Argue over how much tip to leave.
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.
Monday nights
Are India pale ale,
Tuesdays
Stouts & porters.
Then comes
Whiskey Wednesday
& seven –
Tawny death
In slow sips.
You wonder
How it comes:
Sudden
Moonshine,
Stinging & harsh
Or in Canadian mists,
Buffalo traces, wild
Turkeys
Feral as forests
Or soft & rummy--
An easy sweet
Slipping to nothingness,
The last liqueurs
Liquid as eyes
Seeping silently
Through rye rivers
Rapidly rushing
Toward night.
It's a dream waking to the dawn
dispersed out into the world with a growing yawn
stirring from a sleep so peaceful yet
this familiar dream I can't forget
Tuesdays seem meaningless in that way
when you leave me here when you should stay
but worries worries worries are nothing to me
I can bob forever on this rowdy sea
All of these times, they tend to collide
and along I go, seeming to glide
It's a dream waking to a new day
but I still wish you would stay