What Day is It?

Holy Cracker Jacks and candy canes, today is an interesting day.  And not “interesting” like I use when trying to say something polite about something I find butt-ugly.  No.  Interesting as in engaging, puzzling, delightfully elusive.

Allow me to explain (as if you had a choice).  The interest started from the get-go.  My alarm went off this a.m., and I had the hardest time getting up.  Perhaps I am describing your morning routine (my sympathies), but this is unusual for me.  I haven’t been sleeping as well/much as I would like, and so normally I beat my alarm in greeting the day and am quite ready to arise once it blares its blood-curdling horn. 

Mind you, it wasn’t that the day held gloom and despair and that’s why I wanted to stay nestled in the covers.  Not so.  Indeed, this evening I’m getting my hair cut, an event I always relish.  I think I was just comfy-cozy in my sweepy (read: sleepy) state. 

You would think from here I could only be a racoon-eyed drone, right?  No again.  I proceeded to hum/sing just about every song ever written, inspired by whatever thought flitted through my mind at that second.  I also found my normal amount of coffee sufficient, and the only ill-effect I experienced was in the form of a little headache (pesky and chronic buggers). 

But wait, there’s more!  Headache or no, I found much amusement all throughout the morning.  Little thoughts would twitch at the corners of my mouth and inside I was grinning.  I can’t even tell you now what they all were, but I’m pretty sure they were mostly inside jokes anyway (the various facets of me have such fun chiding one another). 

So.  By now you’re wondering why you just read this.  Consider it your “pay it forward” deed of the day.  I thank you for your readership, for joining me in the offbeat day.  Happy December 1st!

Poem prompt:  Write a poem in which someone or something doesn’t learn their lesson, or how they can’t/won’t learn their lesson.

Spit it Out

She shouts but never opens her mouth

Screams but more inside her teems

“Say what you need to say”

What a thought but not

for her

Don’t air your errors

While our joys pile

they say

She knows she’ll blow

If her words are unheard

But still she’ll shut

Down any sound

Pain is gain

But “strong” is  the wrong word

Her pain will remain

Reticence her penance

For pride

She’ll waste away

Weak at the peak of

her internal inferno

She shouts but never opens her mouth

Screams but more inside her teems

“Hush, little baby,

Don’t say a word.”


2 thoughts on “What Day is It?

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