Tired ....

 

When your 'thinking in poetry', and your brian won't stop - sometimes you just need to write it down.

It not exactly 'literary gold ... but sometimes you can surprise yourself.

If you don't at least write it down, well, it all gets lost into the ether and  you'll never know what you really had...

So, this is not what I would truly call a poem, just lots of bits strung together.

Although there is a lot of rhyme, there is no recognisable flow

.... I'm thinking I should have called it "The Naked Poet ... "

or not defined it as a poem at all ... just stuck it 'writing exercises' and  called it -   "The stuff in my head..."

  • Too tired ...
    Too tired to work, too tired to play. Too tired to even sleep to-day.
  • So much to do, so much to say. But too tired to get today underway
  • Rising above it ...
  • Find your happy place. Paint a smile upon your face,
  • You don't have to work yourself to death, to prove your not a total disgrace.

 

  • Don't pretend it's all OK. But desipite what others say,
  • You don't have to tell the world, because you won't always feel this way.
  • Tomorrow you may find that you have an intact mind,
  • And tomorrow, fingers crossed, you won't think you're going blind

 

  • I just wish that I could sleep, but these chores just will not keep,
  • If I leave them for another day, I know that someones bound to say,

".... what the hell have you been doing? You haven't even washed  up!"

So do - do it NOW.

Hoover up and clean the house, -

  • Clean the house and hoover up, wash all except the coffee cup,
  • Iron the cloths and put them away so tomorrow can start off a better day.

 

  • Turn off the computer. Get up from the chair.
  • Put out the washing. Hoover the stair

 

  • Get out in the garden and pull up the weeds,
  • Water the plants and give them a feed.
  • Admire the flowers, all showy and bright,
  • Luxuriate in such a beautiful sight.

 

  • And if the rain should fall down, listen to the sound,
  • Look up to the sky, but keep your feet on the ground.

 

  • If you stand and look crazy, someone might see,
  • The neighbours will gossip  "the mad woman at |Number 3..."
  • Oh yes - that would be me! 

 

(... to be continued - possibly by continuing to just string random thoughts down, or possibly to take it and mould it into a descent poem ... haven't decided yet)

The End

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