Everything Wednesday

Everything Wednesday

gets lost in translation.

November libraries

in South Shore cities.

Bank-tellers crisply

counting the minutes

till lunch, till dusk.

College-town pubs

serving hot chocolate

with the Daily Deal.

Everything Wednesday

gets lost in translation.

 

Everything Friday

is a shifting dream.

Warehouse basement

doubling as a venue

for open-mic poetry.

Allergic reaction

to soapbox evangelists

among rutting pigeons

in Winthrop Park.

Off-colour tabloids

reporting stories

you wish they hadn't,

blaring your private

wishes and dreams

with neon subtlety.

Everything Friday

is a shifting dream.

 

Everything Monday

is glum but resolute.

Walking against

a bright north wind

and a blinding cold.

Filling out paperwork

for cyberbureaucrats.

Getting offline

at half past seven

for eggs, for exercise.

Everything Monday

is glum but resolute.





Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 52 times
Written on 2017-11-13 at 04:01

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text



Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
This has it all. Well done :)
2017-11-14


Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
I suppose that Tuesdays and Thursdays are completely irrelevant, and Saturday and Sunday would be another poem altogether. I enjoyed this.

It reminds me of an old, old song I have heard that goes through the days of the week. It had a catchy soulful tune that stays in your mind, but I can't remember the name of it. circa 1940's I think. Before either of us was born. :)
Ashe
2017-11-13


Bibek
Wednesday, Friday and Monday. Wonderful use of poetic phrases in your work. I like them all very much.
2017-11-13


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo! I like this work, very much, Thomas.
Ken
2017-11-13