Sunday, June 17, 2012

Fridays

Fridays

I blend with abandon
transfer from work
freedom

my spare time off
its my job
free

I draft ride current
on a downhill 
stride

in a trance
caught by a string
temper

from which I refrain
the racket in my
brain

drove me to strike
the key to the chest
crack

Friday

I sit in the park
watch rats scurry
as sun sets

This was written for A Sunday Whirl #61.  Follow the link and see what others have written.

5 comments:

  1. Sometime there is just no time off; and sometimes that racket in one's brain must be listened to. Watching rats scurrying, at the end of this particular poem, sounds like relaxation.

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  2. Enjoyed this... I have a racket in my brain sometimes, too.

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  3. Another Diane mysterious poem!

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  4. I enjoyed reading the unique images you have in this. And there is something just so starkly frank about sitting there watching the rats! Excellent.

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