Short Wednesdays Poems
Short Wednesdays Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Wednesdays by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Wednesdays by length and keyword.
I'm sending some angel glow
Cause I want some light to flow
On your day and make it shine
So your Wednesdays really fine
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!
He waits for a woman,
Who’s shift was changed years ago,
But yesterday told him,
"Visit you on Wednesdays now "
So now he waits for her,
and Wednesday to come.
I am constantly stressed
So I see my shrink
My psychiatrist, too, of course
And, oh yeah, this group –
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays
A “Life Skills” group
Supposedly,
They teach me life skills
Days at noon
Wednesdays too
Nights of only half a moon
Half a cup
Zeros zoom
Seams apart
Stop and start
Time frames every part
Mornings born shall descend
The mild middle is a friend
In reveal or conceal
Weaving a circular seal
Dream of flowers in the field
Form:
watching for Mom's car
coming home from bar
she'd polka danced too
with a guy or two
Wednesdays and weekends
she's gone with her friends
leaving me and sis
and of course a list
we grew apart
right from the start
they had their guys
giving me lies
how the time did go
there's nothing to show
The
house was full
of yesterdays-
books
that filled
wet Wednesdays
cross-stitch
hours upon the wall
eclectic
art,glass,pottery
collected,moments
sentiments
priceless,unique
irreplaceable-
a smell of love
percolated
into offspring
memories
drifting
to timeless
tomorrows
If I had a clone
I would send her to my faculty meetings on Wednesdays.
I would have her do my paperwork.
I would have her clean this bedroom.
I would not be too friendly,
I would not engage her in idle conversation.
I would keep her busy, doing everything I detest.
She would vacuum, cook, clean, dust, and mop.
If I had a clone.
Listen to poem:
On the Other Side
David J Walker
Incantations dealt
Beneath a silent breath
Claiming life
Dealing death
Subscribe to unseen
Magazines
Opened only at the first
Stroke of Wednesdays midnight
Antidotes offered at
First light
Work on faith and faith alone
Tell me when we are home
And I will open my eyes again
On the other side
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?
Will you love me when I’m old
Even if I’m not as pretty or bold
Despite dementia will you still trust
Never mind December warm is our love
Engage me with your ebony eyes
Sauté my heart with red hot replies
Doting you are my red satin valentine
Amethyst is the art you paint in my mind
You are seasoned sexy smart and kind
Stay as you are chocolate lover of mine
re-post inspired by contest theme
The
house was full
of yesterdays-
books
that filled
wet Wednesdays
cross-stitch
hours upon the wall
eclectic
art,glass,pottery
collected,
moments
sentiments
priceless,unique
irreplaceable-
a smell of love
percolated
into offspring
memories
drifting
to timeless
tomorrows
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.
Memories surface,a requiem of
sounds,heaving emotions realign,
words recalled speak volume from
deep within , and live again on a trail
of nows then wash nostalgia’s face
with random spontaneity from
the unconscious mind.The house
full of yesterdays,books that filled
wet Wednesdays,cross-stitched hours
upon the wall.Eclectic collected
moments,sentiments,priceless,unique
and irreplaceable,this smell of love
percolating into endless tomorrows
Memories surface,a requiem of
sounds,heaving emotions realign,
words recalled speak volume from
deep within , and live again on a trail
of nows then wash nostalgia’s face
with random spontaneity from
the unconscious mind.The house
full of yesterdays,books that filled
wet Wednesdays,cross-stitched hours
upon the wall.Eclectic collected
moments,sentiments,priceless,unique
and irreplaceable,this smell of love
percolating into endless tomorrows.
Sixth grade comes in singing and dancing, rapping, stomping, stamping.
Sounds like a herd of wild stallions, two hundred strong.
There are twenty-two of them.
Seventeen boys, four girls.
I have to ask them to be respectful while I give directions.
One, two, three, four, five, seven, eleven, fifteen times.
They act horrible.
I know now why the regular art teacher has called in sick four Wednesdays.
She is here in the morning, before the sixth graders’ class.
A fireball red touches pine trees
Tiny flickers peek through gaps
Colors cast upon the low clouds
Never follow a map
What will this day bring forth for all
Will their be sunshine or rain
As the horizon slowly changes
Into lives can come pain
The day presented enjoyment
Our family time was warm
The meal shared delicious farm foods
Love fords prodigious storms
My family comes most Wednesdays..
If I am able, I prepare a fresh homecooked meal..
She was a health food junkie.
That is okay. We could get along.
She could not bear the smell of meat.
I could not cook it there.
Could we still be roommates?
Of course.
I could not bring a hamburger or meat pizza in.
The rent was almost too good to be true.
Okay, I agreed.
We juice on Wednesdays, she told me.
This is why there are two toilets.
Wait! We both have to juice?
It’s my rule she told me.
What kind of juice?
Celery.
Any sugar in it?
No.
This was the deal breaker.
Glissandos
with a twist of tangy lime
arpeggios
in starched cuffs and gleaming buttons
sparkle from the ivories
of a Baldwin baby grand
leaving the root notes
for the double bass to play
It's honey
in be-bop
pure rich amber honey
with a cinnamon stick
and a drop of syncopation
blending in soft beats
of a hi-hat
gentle brushes on a tom
A second round
of drinks arrives
as conversations hush
and candles flicker
Our new favorite diner
with smooth live jazz
on Wednesdays
Today
today arrives like yesterday's news,
taughting, drenched in night-sweats....
laughing at futile gestures, asleep in the womb,
like clown faces, unable to touch the bright Sun...
emergency sirens practice the ending, once a month,
on Wednesdays, at one-o'clock sharp....
warming to the drill, I step outside,
and find the pavement calming.....
knowing I won't slip-off the Earth's Edge today,
knowing I won't slip-off....
....today