Morose Monday

Today these words are shrivelled up
Bile and gall in a honey cup,
The jokes and anecdotes can’t light a straw
The sun is up but inside it’s snow

There’s usually a solution for this sorta thing
Buy a coffee, call a friend, maybe even sing,
But today the dark clouds hover like bees
Buzzing and cursing like an angry banshee.

One step out the door and you step in crap
There’s a squeal on your shoulder from a devilish laugh,
Today you’re not even rebuking him
This little light of yours is helplessly dim.

They are mere words what were Psalms
Endless drones those once sweet hymns
The heart has turned green and sour
I look at my thoughts now dark and dour.

But I sit still as I disintergrate
Hoping from the skies a light emanates
It’s too much for one man to forever sigh
So it remains that hope never runs dry.


6 thoughts on “Morose Monday

  1. This poem.
    Bringing out the darkness buried from an evening past.
    I stepped in it today.
    The squishy sound, last wriggle of rot.
    Hover. Mosquitoes.
    Mosquitoes persistent bothersome pests.


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