By Shirley Segev
© Shirley Segev
Permission is given hereby to all who want to use these poems personally for their enjoyment and/or share them freely with others: verbally, in writing, online, or otherwise, by copying them without making any changes, and as long as they do not receive any payment in return.
Contact: shirley.segev@sympatico.ca
All the computers, phones,
iPods, MP3's
And office-quick, wireless,
for all I know,
may be conspiring happily,
talking to each other
on another frequency,
to support us,
poor things.
And even though they are
absolutely right
I know now that we live
on a totally different channel.
Monday morning deaths,
recycled weekly,
dust and ashes made of hopes,
longings of yesterday,
and prayers.
Monday mornings
dreaded, made of
tears unshed and
crushing silence,
shaking, chocking
into the abyss.
What keeps one's sanity
(the secret of humanity)
because it gives life meaning
is that Monday is Monday
the opposite of Sunday
Tuesday is definitely
the day after Monday
with its own needs and duties
Wednesday, depends,
best work or waste,
Thursday, last chance
to do real haste,
Friday, the day of great
expectations
Saturday and or Sunday
the highlights and be-all,
or vice-versa,
in the merry go round of day after
day
this is what drives what survives