Sunday sorrow

By Mummy Penguin

Sun, 15 May 2011
  • 1361 reads
7 comments
 

Sunday sorrow settles in the mind
Too familiar to leave it behind.

Monday muscles flex into being,
Control the eyes that do the seeing.

Tuesday tussles tearfully along its way
Struggles to find some words to say.

Wednesday wanders off in space
Just another sad loser in the race.

Thursday thoughts sharpen the knife
That cuts into another slice of life.

Friday fizzles with bubbles that pop
Brings false hope back up to the top.

Saturday saunters around with pride
Yet there's emptiness waiting inside.

Sunday sorrow settled in the mind
Far too familiar to leave behind.

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Comments

Submitted by maisie on
awwwwwwwwwwww! /me passes Mummy Penquin a hankie! Lovely poem,yet so sorrowful for a sunday!

maisie angel Guess what?  I'm still alive!

Submitted by Highhat on
I liked this. Like the way you finish as you started. ;)Pia

Submitted by Rhiannonw on
You show well the routine, the busy-ness, of the week, and the unsubstantial excitements that buoy up. Sunday has time to stop, and the sorrows can rise, and reality can seem a bit depressing, but can be tempered by thoughts about others, and time for prayer, and the encouragements of real hope in the gospel.

 

Submitted by celticman on
Oh poor old hollow Friday. Nice poem.

 

Submitted by seashore on
Loved it.

Submitted by oldpesky on
Nice one MP. And seeing as it's now wednesday I will wander back off into space. I do hope you're wrong about saturday though - it's the cup final this week.

Submitted by celticman on
I think we've already had our fill of that type of Saturnalia oldp.