Tuesdays Poems - Poems about Tuesdays

Turquoise trees sway in my dreams Unicorns fly high with white wings Emerald dance of the music man Singing with green guitar in hand Dainty Donna an artist true blue Always doing portraits so neon new You are her subject at the poetry slam Snapping fingers words sweet peach jam...

Continue reading...

She wonders. If I did. Forget the dishes, dishes, dishes. There are sharp knives, that get sharper. Dirty water. It’s always Tuesday when I get cuts on my fingers. We never have bandages, I don’t know why. The knives and I fight like this. I make everyone mad. Tuesdays are when I go to work. Tuesdays are when. Events are connected like that. I promise. I get a...

Continue reading...

Humpty Dumpty has never looked this serene You think so? I think he looks rather green. I need silence while I draw said Mother Hubbard. Her dog wandered off to sniff out her cupboard. Papa bear asked if Goldilocks would be in today. He liked drawing her, thin, trembling and gray. The other artists glared at his gall, wishing him away. He...

Continue reading...

I will have fun learning today I am here to serve Here to purge I love my brain & body We handle challenges so well Today will be comfortably uncomfortable - a result of my consistent growth I welcome beauty Yesterday's mistakes are given All my needs & wants will be met I attract more positive people I choose to speak truth today My mindset is...

Continue reading...

A Tuesday with tacos is swell, But Wednesdays can sometimes be hell; For south of the border To remain in order, You’d best stay away from the Bell!...

Continue reading...

The narrowing of choice, opaque or black? Unconfident die castes vote ballot blank, How has our circus bread become this bland? What a diverse homogeneous blend, All stitched to sleeves but less with blood to bleed, Philosophy’s deep silenced sonar bleep, Who knew the watch dogs had been put to sleep, Medici summoned now with suits so sleek, For their next trick Baal’s...

Continue reading...

My dearest Anna, It has been three Tuesdays since I lost you. I will never forget seeing you, just lying there. I went to our regular coffee shop, at the regular time. For the second week in a row I ordered both of our drinks. It has been seven episodes of that show you like, since I lost...

Continue reading...

Morning songs Coffee sings Stains of grey Just tell me What it is You have to say Our dawn is piercing Time into Can’t speak to split For I’m overwhelmed By the Saturdays fading Amongst your Saddened lips So many times I left undisclosed You seem to think I’m at your door But now I fear that You may already know To and from We...

Continue reading...

She studied her shoes for ages, laces frayed from her obvious clumsiness He touched her arm, lightly, as tornadoes settled themselves and memories fought the weather, her hair, it seemed, was nappier on Tuesdays, and he tousled her when she woke up. "Please" was always spoken too lightly, she fell inside herself with the familiarity of requests and apologized for winter's mess, she...

Continue reading...

My hands are busy with today, but my thoughts hang back in the humid air of a deceptive yesterday; to dinner and the jungle heat congealed under umbrellas, stained with the residue of city traffic, too loud and too close for significant atmosphere to stand any chance in factoring urban style. Paris, it wasn't, but...

Continue reading...