Quotes about weekday
Billy Was A Picker
Billy was a picker on Saturday nights.
He’d lose himself in the neon lights.
He’d travel places he’d never been.
Even leave his body now and again.
He’d leave behind
The weekday grind
And soar.
You’re oh so cool, the folks’d say
You’re gonna be a star some day
And we’ll all say we knew you when.
And act like we’re your long lost friend.
And when you’re on TV
We’ll all get to be
There too.
And Billy began to believe the praise
He began to plan his life for the days
When every one would know his name
A life of glamour, fortune, and fame
[...] Read more
poem by Gerry Leopard
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Weekend Revolution
The daily drudge deals a mean hand
Menial commerce makes a mean man,
You're gonna, you're gonna have a fine time,
Just, just not on my time
If they could peer behind the screens,
At all your sordid little schemes
You unleash the tension,
Do things I wouldn't mention.
Your weekday demons take their toll on you,
But your weekend revolution just won't do.
Don't hang yourself with your christmas tie,
In your coffin flat, you sit and die
Your weekend revolution.
Your mother's proud of her only son,
What if she could see the things he's done
Friday and your five day prison,
Glazed eyes and double vision.
You loutish lads look not for love,
You grab your loins and hunt for blood
You unleash the tension,
[...] Read more
song performed by Ordinary Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Blacktop Kiss'' by. Kevin Mireles
On a casual weekday,
with a gentle breeze
and somber sun,
strong-versus-weak
world of kickball
fields and blacktop,
I learn
of playground cruelty
from a face splat!
Strolling
from the equipment shed
to the
tether-ball ring,
careless
candy-thoughts
wandering
through my
elementary mind,
I make an oblivious
[...] Read more
poem by Kevin Mireles
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The one ironclad rule is that I have to try. I have to walk into my writing room and pick up my pen every weekday morning.
quote by Anne Tyler
Added by Lucian Velea
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Touching You Again
touching you again
would be like
making love in a church
on a weekday.
sunlight sifting through
the stained glass windows
throwing colored shadows
on the empty pews,
the smell of burnt candlewax,
closed hymnals.
and stone silence.
a cold brass offering plate
waiting for your heart!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Each and every weekday
Each and every weekday
grips with its own ferocity,
as if life was meant to be
made of days of labour.
Weekends can not come
to fast and in a flash
they pass us by,
as if time is pressed
to stay on a working day.
I want every day
to be a holiday
and work to turn into
a time to play.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Boxing Day!
In Great Britain, the first weekday after Christmas, a legal holiday on which Christmas boxes are given to Postmen, etc.
Oh! This boxspring bed
Provides me strange dreams!
The Queen has sent me a pair of Boxing gloves
And invited me for the feather weight Championship
The letter mentioned that I am a colonial friend.
I practised the whole night
And found the holes
On the boxboard wall
Early in the Morning!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XXV
My childhood, then, had passed a mystery
Shrouded by death, my boyhood a shut thing.
The passion of my soul as it grew free
With growing youth, a bird with broken wing,
Knew nothing of its strength to dare or do,
Or, if it dreamed of battle still to come,
That was its secret hidden in the blue
Of life's great vault of tears which was its doom,
A duty of revenge some day for blood.
Enough! You know I held me from the press
To whom base things are nothing, that I stood
Parted from this world's weekday wickedness
By a whole legend of romance sublime,
Perhaps by the dead virtue of a crime.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Anniversary Poem to My Darling Gloria
The years fly our love grows stronger
Time bonds our life truly fonder
Weekday Sunday every day
Decades prove love will stay,
These words I say I know are true
Simply fact that ‘I love you'
.
.
NB.As teenagers 19 and 16 we wed
57 years ago July 1955. I wrote a poem
‘Gloria' {Published and sits on the
First page of an anthology of 200 poems]
Beauties Nucleus Gloria.
My darling,
If I was a painter
a master of repute,
[...] Read more
poem by Ken e Hall
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Tuesday Fell
Tuesday fell into the ocean
Exhaust pronounced with blackened fumes
Her scissors arms cut through the quarts
That vitrified the verdigris blooms
And while she swam the taxi watched
Falstaffian laugh from the pagoda view
It made her feel like Sundays ruin
Distilled in the platitudinous pews
Overwrought in prosaic charms
Her Romanesque features sad dilute
Coughed between the liquid mounds
Aqua, Cerulean and baby blue
Free sanctuary from the staplers
Scheduled manners in eunuch Suits
Slaves all free in the pawn machines
Weekday mornings to the AM dirge
Now she becomes her own collage
[...] Read more
poem by Kevin Patrick
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