The weekend is a gateway
to eternal sunshine -
a candlelight,
a spotlight
for the tired,
the unmotivated -
a change for them
to seduce our minds
to footsteps.
It is like a folksy song
that leaves you
gone,
but not chasing sleep,
or chasing
anything at all,
leaves you taking charge:
the oldest sense of carpe diem,
its definition, toxic.
If you ask anyone, they'll tell you
that the weekend is,
ironically,
nonindulgent.
They lose,
because no matter how much
they rest, they will never,
truly
be at peace.
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5 comments:
Zeus! God(dess) of (Poetic) Thunder!
I want you to know that, first of all, I am so happy to hear that you revisited found poetry. I really enjoy it whenever I get to work with words in that way. It always means new directions.
(Hey. That could be a good line. Write a poem from there, would you? :)
This poem seems to be both a celebration of an unfilled weekend calendar and a warning about inaction and apathy. Am I on the right track?
PS - "Truly" does not contain an "e." ~Your favorite grammar hammer
Thanks for the grammar hammering :]
and yes, that is exactly what I was going for with this piece.
(I love doing nothing, but i really do need to start on college apps :P)
i love your comparison to "folksy music". its a very unique simile and avoids cliches. (and its my favorite type of music) beautiful beautiful. :)
This is a wonderful definition of the weekend. Take care Sugarcube ^_^
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