Nearing, the end of the work week
Thursday, is not really what I seek
Friday, that would be much better, you do see?
But, let’s not let that be the chime
For the stop of all the fun time
Only, one more day to go
And, then, it’s time to start the show
A, weekend, a full two days
Just ahead, and much to do, in so many ways
So, why, do I live this way?
The week only spent for work and blunder Always, someone stealing my thunder Is it really so stranger, if I am an eternal dreamer And keep looking forward to the only true wonder The two days filled with joy and magic These times made out of pure bliss I have often had to really insist To ban the other days completely of the list Jump from Sunday back to Friday Since that is the day, my day, when I get my way
“The day of free, well Friday at least, is upon us and what better way to celebrate than with a nice cup of coffee, right?“ Gun Roswell
Friday and the Cup of Coffee
Friday, is here and so, a giant enormous cup of coffee is poured, simply because, it is the best way, to celebrate, the fact, that the weekend is upon, even if the day itself and the coffee, really do not make any sense, but then again, coffee, goes with everything and nothing, and if I feel like it is the very thing, to be used for some minor celebratory action? Well, then, who will stop me?
So, now that it is all settled, I too, will settle, with my feet up, without too much of a huff or puff, and watch the weekend silently descend upon my very self, of course, enjoying my big cup of the finest organic suspension ever devised and that is all I am going to do, over this weekend of free, and if some of you disagree, feel free, to sue me!
“There is always time for a coffee, or two, or even more. Heck! I could drink coffee all day long! So, just, plug me in, please!“ Gun Roswell
Friday, and the Coffee Break
The working week, once again, totally spent, in a mostly blurry bend Without so much, as a good, relaxing break or even, a full nights rest The only, and never changing constant, in this, whirlwind of a, well, quest Is the one dark, strong and yes, even dubbed golden, liquid, to digest
But, not each and every stop mark, was, such a success As sometimes, the days, got to be, a total and utter mess When getting, that one precious cup, or maybe two, or even a few Was skipped due, to all them urgent tasks, always, overdue
Luckily, surviving, like always, the week, from Monday, even, to this, Friday Before, the weekend’s full and awaited release, in front would be lain Some other types of liquids, certainly none, as tasty and good made More like a big beast, completely opposing the elixir of life, now, finally slain
So, today, on this, day of Friday, the one day, where running around Like some kind of beheaded poultry or maybe even, a mad cow As all the consuming hustle and bustle, is finally toning down And then, having, “so much” of that time, simply, to get unwound
But maybe, just maybe, skip all them scheduled, planned, awaiting other activities Forget about all mind numbing, and lip downward curling negatives When finally, seated, in peace, with a large cup, of that sweet, sweet release Downing it all, in one, big gulp, and then quickly adding, another full cup As celebrating, the week’s end, with some much deserved and great coffee!!!
Friday, at last, this week, could not have gone any faster Faster, as I very well know, will this day end too Too, and then “boohoo” I cry, but hey, that is just fine Fine, as I know, there will be another Friday Friday, which unfortunately only comes, one a week
Week, is such a dreary measure Measure, like a year or even a hundred Hundred, is the number of the percent Percent, which I always give this day Day, unlike so many others consists of hope Hope, so hard to find these days Days, gone by, but hopefully plenty ahead Ahead, like the word hope, wish, what ever Ever, I wish Friday here to stay Stay, please stay, I totally pray Pray, like you are a deity or something so great Great, better than anything else Else, is where I usually am Am, exist, being, living, solely for Friday Friday, oh how I love you You, this, feeling which you can only bring Bring little ol’ me, each and every week Week, oh, were are back to this again Again, and in circles I run until Until I come to the end of this poem Poem, so yeah, guess I have a thing for Fridays then!
“Friday’s are inheritable freaky, aren’t they? Hence the term, Freaky Friday, because you’ll never know, what kinks the weekend may bring…” Gun Roswell’
Eerie on a Friday
The early hours of the morning Came, with a dire warning The powers that be, were none too happy And sending down, weather oh so crappy Which was their way of utter kind of revenge On to the lowly populous down on the ground now clenched There was no sunshine to be seen Alas also, no stormy clouds, on the skies kind of pristine Only an eerie, soggy, all compassing shroud Could be felt, across the people, the land, and all around The visibility next to none The kids, gloomy, loosing their fun What kind of living could this be Since there was nothing or no one to be seen Yielding to their horrific fate The dwellers down below resorted to prays Trying their all to sooth down the tall For several long hours of wait The gods above, started to hesitate Maybe then had been way to harsh For the people living on the soggy marsh Waving their hands of power The fog, the mist, the eerie, was soon devoured By a low glowing ball like thing The light, which softly stated to sing The surroundings soon starting to change Into something more pleasant with less pain The people below now thanking the gods above
A lesson with great price learnt As the message “Never again, take you weather gods for granted”, was sent
“Maybe, this is the last of the snow for this year?” Gun Roswell
Snowed in on a Friday
The snow started falling Just around when midnight was calling It just kept on pouring Until the ground was souring With powdery white stuff Nobody knowing if it was enough But someone said, shut up And then we watch as the snow kept on coming Then soon enough, none of us was humming The piles on piles of snowflakes Even covered the small watery lake No matter where you watched Nothing, no nothing remained untouched The world was covered in this, thing Even the bird stopped to sing Most likely going to hiding Worried what they might not be finding The chewy worms in the ground Because that was no longer to be found The only thing alive Was the white snow which came from above
“When Friday arrives, we’ll get on with the jives and then out there, on a boat fly” Gun Roswell
Boating Friday
When the waters are us beckoning With their crystal clears and totally blues There is no point in resisting Just put on some casuals and also the mood It’s the end of the working week for some And that always means, a lot of Friday fun As in to the harbour’s hustle and bustle We are steering ourselves with working muscles Soon the boats are filled with passengers All of us, who are here for the adventures Well, at least for a day or two Because usually it happens, really soon That Monday is at the doorstep awaiting And for us that means no second, no hesitating Alas, let’s enjoy the forty-eight hours or so Before back to the dread we must go
“Happy Friday the 13th. Satan just texted me, saying, to watch my back…With one of those smirky emojis at the end.”
Friday, the 13th
The tale told below Was it based on a true story? Or just pure fiction?
That, my dear reader Is for the writer to know And for you to enjoy! As I arrived in the office, the place seemed more quiet than usual. At least this early in the morning.Sitting in my seat, pondering, where everyone else were.
No emails, no calls No contacts at all Had I mistaken? Or too early awoken? Was this a wrong day? A Saturday, a Sunday?
Thinking about it, the traffic had been oddly light. Even though it had been early morning time.
After a few hours of waiting in solitude, people I had never seen, entered the room. Talking in strange languages, sounding like a record been played back the wrong way. I was observing them. They did not seem to notice me.
Passing me by Wondering why Seemed like a dream So unreal did it seem
I tried to greet one of them. I kept repeating Hello, hello, HELLO!
But unnoticed Even by the closest Visitor did I go
Getting irritated, I did no longer hesitate. Jumped in front of the nearest stranger. I did not feel I was in any danger. Waved my arms and shouted. Like a mad person undoubted
But nothing, no nothing stirred the strangers. As if I wasn’t even there…
Maybe, just maybe I had turned invisible Or maybe, It was all, just a dream
“The poet does not fear death, not because he believes in the fantasy of heroes, but because death constantly visits his thoughts and is thus an image of a serene dialogue” Salvatore Quasimodo
Serene Friday
Treasure Peace, love, happiness and all good things Because You’ll never know, what curveballs life may bring
Rantings Of A Third Kind 