Monday and Her Minions ~ A Poet's Conundrum

and so it is Monday

and again this all begins.

the to and fro, the shuffle

the too busy for time to think.

moments lost forever

in the chasing after of things.

things we need not things we want

it’s a Monday kind of thing.

balance between work and words

and thoughts and the things I feel.

I find myself longing soberly

lost in the quiet of evening’s lure.

I stay up much later than I should

toying and playing with words.

trying to build up the reserve

to get me through each day.

I know full well there won’t be time

and usually not even a place.

Monday and her minions

are on me before I awake.

she is needy, this one, and demanding

her voice loud and sharp to hear.

she is in my ears and my consciousness

taking up all of the space.

she is pushing out things she doesn’t need

passion, emotion, dreams.

she is on her game this morning

and already has me on my knees.

begging for a simple quiet moment

a gentle break in my day.

where I can run off with my notebook

and ease this constant ache.

the ache that words must come

and they must simply be heard.

Monday is not the only one

who has something to say today.