Friday (Love Poem)
Weekend beckons as work crazy week ends
Winter fire, relaxed dinner, wine warm glow
Couch cosy snuggle, TV moving wallpaper
Later virtual dog and neighbour walk to pub
Bar wisdom sets the world to rights again
Depression, recession is one drink less
Striding home in no worries happy haze
Warm bed snuggles with my best girl
Week ends wonderfully again.
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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End Of The Week
I get out of work
And then I throw away all of my cares
I get out of work
And then I wash the week out my hair
Monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday
Its hard as could be
But by old friday evening
Were free, were free, were free
End of the week
The weekend started
Been working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Youre tasting freedom
No one to push you around
End of the week
And life has a reason
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Street are alive
You know everybodys going somewhere
You put on the slide
You gotta beat the crowd just everywhere
And all the music all the dancing
Get you so high
And all that sweet romancing
Oh my, oh my, oh my
End of the week
The weekend started
Working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Feels good now
Feels good now
End of the week
End of the week
Its real good now
Real good now
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wednesday
To everyone else Wednesday is nothing more than
the middle of the week. But to me Wednesday is
much more than three days to Saturday. See to
me Wednesday is like Christmas, my birthday,
and Valentines Day all rolled up in to one.
For every Wednesday my love and I take time out
for one another. We run a warm bath with milk
rose bubble bath and light candles. As we soak
we gently caress and hold one another. Then
after the bath we dry off, and go sit by the
fire. Meanwhile, as Kenny G. plays on the
stereo we snuggle. Now as we snuggle I watch
the reflection of the crackling fire in my
lover's eyes, and it makes me fall in love with
my lover all over again. Now, after about an
hour of snuggling by the fire we both drift off
to sleep in each others arms. Only to be
awaken by Thursday morning's sunlight.
This is why Wednesday is much more
than just the middle of the week to me.
I want to be warm so freaking bad
I want to be warm so freaking bad
While the big winter freeze sets in
All this condensation and precipitation
With little perspiration and evaporation
Everywhere I go
There are blankets of white snow
I am indoors having phone conversations
With minus freezing temperature
The cold affects every living creature
This is the cold side of nature
When little drops of water have an adventure
I want to be warm so freaking bad
That's why I can not get out of bed
In houses hide the mass populations
While the nation is in depression
Faced with buses and train cancellations
Right now I face hibernation
When I open my doors
The cold wind blows hardcore
It bites into my bones
And I retreat back home alone
I want to be warm so freaking bad
That's why my heating is constantly on
I want to be warm so freaking bad
That's why I have so many clothes on
Because every time I open my windows
I don't need a pair of binoculars
To see that walking on thin ice
Is not a comforting struggle
I want to be warm so freaking bad
And I know my thoughts are not all that mad
I want to be warm so freaking bad
While the big winter freeze sets in so bad
poem by Sylvia Chidi (2010)
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Single Candle Light
The warm glow of a single candle flame
beckons a weary stranger there
to the bosom of a warm fire in
from the nighttime's cold.
A warm caring heart keeps the candle lit
to welcome back their love
from their long and lonely trek.
Each night they light the candle,
and sit waiting all alone,
hoping one night their love,
will glance on it
and return to their loving home.
The warm stretching finger
prods the darkness every night,
as it can be seen from miles away
across the empty prairie,
as they sit alone each night
by the warm fair light.
Hoping that their love will see its warm glow
and return to it and come home tonight
from their long and weary trek.
For years, the candle was lit,
but sadly, it shines no more.
Love broke the lonely heart
when they never came home.
Now all you can hear is a lonesome whistle
when the wind blows cold at night.
It has replaced that warm glow
of that single candle light.
poem by David Harris
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Seven Day Weekend
See the girl in the cabriolet
Im gonna make her mine someday
The traffic stops and she steps out
Every man starts to scream and shout
Theres a space in the week
Its a date I can keep, oh yeah
Seven day, seven day, seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day, seven day, seven day
Its a seven day weekend
See the girl in the pale peach dress
Shes got a body build to caress
Like a one-eyed cat
Outside a seafood store
Shes got me begging
More, more, more
Ive been saving and saving
And saving my money
To spend it on her
* seven day, seven day, seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
(* repeat)
Seven day (saturday)
Seven day (every day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Week
Oh, the new-chum went to the backblock run,
But he should have gone there last week.
He tramped ten miles with a loaded gun,
But of turkey of duck saw never a one,
For he should have been there last week,
They said,
There were flocks of 'em there last week.
He wended his way to a waterfall,
And he should have gone there last week.
He carried a camera, legs and all,
But the day was hot and the stream was small,
For he should have gone there last week,
They said,
They drowned a man there last week.
He went for a drive, and he made a start,
Which should have been made last week,
For the old horse died of a broken heart;
So he footed it home and he dragged the cart --
But the horse was all right last week,
They said,
He trotted a match last week.
So he asked all the bushies who came from afar
To visit the town last week
If the'd dine with him, and they said "Hurrah!"
But there wasn't a drop in the whisky jar --
You should have been here last week,
He said,
I drank it all up last week!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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A Relaxed And Happy Poem
A RELAXED AND HAPPY POEM
A relaxed and happy poem came to me
On a cold rainy day-
From my window
I see grey sky and green green branches-
A wet world outside
And I warm within-
Life has so many moods in it
And we go so frequently from one to another-
Now I am relaxed and happy
But I do not promise what will be
Five minutes from now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Siren's Dance
She's a psychopath, now married to a geek,
Who brings the bacon home every week
From working as a local data dork,
While she just loves not doing any work.
I wonder why I loved this girl at all,
She is always thinking big but acting small -
She's better off being married to a geek.
It isn't love or honesty she seeks -
She only takes the most that she can get -
The little dork is just her little pet.
For if her equal were to challenge her,
She'll see her real self and want no more
Of all her games, control and jealousy.
But she'd rather be a little girl,
Living inside her childish little world
With a much younger prepubescent geek,
Who brings the bacon home every week.
Well, I've been trying hard to understand
Why it was so hard to take a stand
And walk out earlier, when I had the chance.
But I have learned to say: 'Enough! No more! ' -
She's stretched enough my sanity and mores,
Finding a new boy or a girl next door
To share her bed and fantasies each week.
And so I go now, feeling stronger,
Finding her beautiful or charming no longer.
November 27,2005
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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When The World Ends
When the world ends
Collect your things
Youre coming with me
When the world ends
You tuckle up yourself with me
Watch it as the stars disappear to nothing
The day the world is over
Well be lying in bed
Im gonna rock you like a baby when the cities fall
We will rise as the buildings crumble
Float there and watch it all
Amidst the burning, well be churning
You know, love will be our wings
The passion rises up from the ashes
When the world ends
When the world ends
Youre gonna come with me
Were going to be crazy
Like a river bends
Were going to float
Through the criss cross of the mountains
Watch them fade to nothing
When the world ends
You know thats whats happening now
Im going to be there with you somehow, oh...
Im going to tie you up like a baby in a carriage car
Your legs wont work cause you want me so
You just lie spread to the wall
The love you got is surely
All the love that I would ever need
Im going to take you by my side
And love you tall, til the world ends
Oh, but dont you worry about a thing
No, cause I got you here with me
Dont you worry about a
Just you and me
Floating through the empty, empty
Just you and me
Oh, graces
Oh, grace
Oh, when the world ends
Well be burning one
When the world ends
Well be sweet makin love
Oh, you know when the world ends
Im going to take you aside and say
Lets watch it fade away, fade away
And the worlds done
Ours just begun
Its done
Ours just begun
Were gonna dive into the emptiness
Well be swimming
Im going to walk you through the pathless roads
Im going to take you to the top of the mountain thats no longer there
Im going to take you to bed and love you, I swear
Like the end is here
Im going to take you up to
Im going to take you down on you
Im going to hold you like an angel, angel
Im going to love you
Im going to love you
When the world ends
Im going to hold you
When the world is over
Well just be beginning...
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Week In Week Out
IIs there something more?
Surely there must be
You can't lose everything
So you're quite happy
To live with nothing more
Than a life-long shopping list
You tick off on credit
Well you'll pay for it
Week in and week out
Your lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
Where are you going to turn?
When all ambition fails?
Why try any more
If human nature's stale?
Invite the hand of God
To touch the lucky few
There's no such thing as God
Nor easy money too?
Week in and week out
These lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
Week in and week out
Your lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
song performed by by Ordinary Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Days
Summer days are warm, and wonderfully long.
Deep down, within my heart, I feel a joyful song.
Gone are winter days, with their dowdy browns;
The trees and flowers now wear coloured crowns.
The natural world displays its bounteous beauty.
The soft, summer breeze is fragrant and fruity.
Bees, butterflies, and other bugs, now take flight.
Days of summer, feel so very cheerful and bright.
The days of winter can be so deeply depressing,
But now, their true selves, plants are expressing.
Suddenly, the world feels like a much better place,
And the happy smiles are evident on many a face.
The world, all about us, is given a golden glow,
Which illuminates Mother Nature's vibrant show.
Following the winter months: all dull and dreary;
We're treated to a display that's much more cheery.
Winter woodlands appear so very bland and bare,
But, come the summer, they look fabulous and fair.
Shafts of sunlight shine down through the tall trees;
The leaf laden branches rustle in the summer breeze.
Some secretly wish that summer could last forever;
That, all year round, we could enjoy warm weather.
Once summer is here, you hate for it to have to end;
You warm to it, as you would, to your dearest friend.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Warmer Than Winter, Colder Than Summer
In summer, when the wishes of us grow up like a steeple,
When we feel the warm weather, and see happy people
All the sadness and all the bad things will gone
No one feels hard, the life of cruel people is done.
Wishes, dreams, our childhood laughs…oh look, here is sweet home!
Wow! Home, sweet home! For the vacation of this summer let's go to Rome!
For our life we wrote lots of plans
And if we couldn't make them, our life will be so tight, as the soda cans!
In winter we rather to stay at home, near our dreams and our dear pen,
We drink warm coffee with our dear parents, now and then
Winter has lot's of stories to say,
Stories about the old steam of past and lovely frozen bay
All is about us, we can have our winter warmer than summer and we can have a summer that is colder than winter,
But the thing that is always warm and charmer in these two seasons, is the sun that comes from Easter!
poem by Ellias Anderson
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To John Hamilton Reynolds
O that a week could be an age, and we
Felt parting and warm meeting every week,
Then one poor year a thousand years would be,
The flush of welcome ever on the cheek:
So could we live long life in little space,
So time itself would be annihilate,
So a day's journey in oblivious haze
To serve ourjoys would lengthen and dilate.
O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind!
To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant!
In little time a host of joys to bind,
And keep our souls in one eternal pant!
This morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught
Me how to harbour such a happy thought.
poem by John Keats
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Sonnet To John Hamilton Reynolds
O that a week could be an age, and we
Felt parting and warm meeting every week,
Then one poor year a thousand years would be,
The flush of welcome ever on the cheek:
So could we live long life in little space,
So time itself would be annihilate,
So a day's journey in oblivious haze
To serve ourjoys would lengthen and dilate.
O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind!
To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant!
In little time a host of joys to bind,
And keep our souls in one eternal pant!
This morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught
Me how to harbour such a happy thought.
poem by John Keats
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Week-ends
I don't know what's come to the summer
In these dull and decadent years;
But a fellow grows glummer and glummer
As promise of autumn appears;
For there's not been a sign of a week-end of shine,
Or the sun on the sea all aglimmer.
And, as the weeks pass, wet and windy, alas,
Thin hope grows yet slimmer and slimmer.
Oh, the sad days, the mad days,
Of rain and wind and mud!
The week speeds by with the sun on high
To come a sickening thud.
When the slippery slosh of the gum golosh
On the soaked and sodden ground
Thro' the country lane sounds once again
When the week-end comes around.
When I go to the bush for a week-end
From a city aglow in the sun,
My holiday comes to a bleak end
Ere half a day's length has been run.
And I gaze thro' the pane at the splattering rain,
Forlorn thro' a profitless Sunday,
And come back to town with the sun pouring down
To smile on my labours on Monday.
Oh, the weekends, when pique ends
In grim and gaunt despair!
Hope wakes anew as all week thro'
The glass is pointing fair,
And fine and warm: but a lurking storm
Behind the high hills grows
To spread dismay each Saturday
And another week-end goes.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Friends.... Old Friends......
Friends… old friends…
One sees how it ends.
A woman looks
Or a man lies,
And the pleasant brooks
And the quiet skies,
Ruined with brawling
And caterwauling,
Enchant no more
As they did before,
And so it ends
With friends.
Friends… old friends…
And what if it ends?
Shall we dare to shirk
What we live to learn?
It has done its work,
It has served its turn;
And, forgive and forget
Or hanker and fret,
We can be no more
As we were before.
When it ends, it ends
With friends.
Friends… old friends…
So it breaks, so it ends.
There let it rest!
It has fought and won,
And is still the best
That either has done.
Each as he stands
The work of its hands
Which shall be more
As he was before?…
What is it ends
With friends?
poem by William Ernest Henley
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On A Seven-Day Diary
Oh I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and talked and went to sleep.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
from work and ate and slept.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and watched a show and slept.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate steak and went to sleep.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and fucked and went to sleep.
Then it was Saturday, Saturday, Saturday!
Love must be the reason for the week!
We went shopping! I saw clouds!
The children explained everything!
I could talk about the main thing!
What did I drink on Saturday night
that lost the first, best half of Sunday?
The last half wasn't worth this 'word.'
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
from work and ate and went to sleep,
refreshed but tired by the weekend.
poem by Alan Dugan
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Ernie
I am the bringer of your wishes,
Your saviour from doing work,
The washer of your dishes,and
Youll still get you mid-day perk.
Estate agent,
Your mansion and pot of gold,
All the home comforts,
Before youre getting tired and old.
One more try,
Try to get what youve never had,
Five more bob,
For the whole world that cant be bad.
We cant all win,
Look its happening,
The futures looking not so bleak,
A thousand winners every week.
A thousand winners every week.
So when you hear me coming,
Along halls and up the stairs,
Get the black teapot,
In the cupboard, under chairs,
Forget all your wives tales,
Or forecasts and dividends,
E.r.n.i.e. feels vibrations,
Only pays out to trusting friends.
One more try,
Try to get what youve never had,
Five more bob,
For the whole world that cant be bad.
We cant all win,
Look its happening,
The futures looking not so bleak,
A thousand winners every week.
A thousand winners every week.
Keep your hand on the bottle,
And your eyes glued upon the set,
When the score cards come up,
Could be you for the big one next.
Publicity, no thank you,
On the front page of the currant bun,
They think you stink,
But in the pub youll be number one.
One more try,
Try to get what youve never had,
Five more bob,
For the whole world that cant be bad.
We cant all win,
Look its happening,
The futures looking not so bleak,
A thousand winners every week.
A thousand winners every week.
A thousand winners every week.
A thousand winners every week.
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Truth
I hung up the phone tonight
Just as you said I love you
Once this would have been coincidence
Now these things start to bother me
You still close your eyes when I kiss you
And I close mine too
But we didnt open them again
Quite as wide as we should
This is where the home truth ends
This is where the home truth ends
Does your touch feel the same as it should do
Or is it someone quite similar
Who killed me with kindness last night
Now do I look at all familiar?
But none of these things seem to matter
Since weve grown apart
Id put back the pieces of whats shattered
But I dont know where to start
This is where the home truth ends
This is where the home truth ends
This is where the home truth ends
And I feel like a clown
Its tearing me up
Its tearing me down
You say which are the lies that you tell me
Well where do I begin?
So I turn on the tv again
And the world comes crashing in
Is it my shirt or my toothpaste
That is whiter than white?
Is it the lies that I tell you
Or the lies that I might?
This is where the home truth ends
This is where the home truth ends
Chorus
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Snowman
I'm molded from the fresh white snow,
I have two round eyes from dark coal,
All kids can see my special glow,
I am a snowman with a soul.
A white pom-pom ends my fancy hat,
and a red carrot is my long nose,
I do not eat, yet I am fat,
and when it snows, my belly grows.
Two stiff brooms are my outstretched hands,
Sometimes, proudly I wear a scarf,
I'm the symbol of winter lands,
I even might be the eighth dwarf.
I don't have a match in the world!
But I live only one season,
In the end, I'll be torn and swirled,
My life here is for a reason.
I love every girl, every boy,
Indeed they all are my best friends,
They bring me happiness and joy,
Ah, my heart melts when Winter ends!
poem by Marius Alexandru (January 2023)
Submitted by anonym
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