SUNDAY
Shadows stretching, twisting, reaching,
out across the roads and lanes
People walking, driving, riding,
On their bikes, in cars, in trains
Children dancing, talking, laughing,
free from schools restraining chains
Fathers digging, mowing, pruning,
weary limbs and lingering pains
Mothers washing, cleaning, cooking,
it must be Sunday once again.
-
Author:
Michael Edwards (
Offline) - Published: April 18th, 2018 00:09
- Comment from author about the poem: Not one of my best - I saw the shadows across the road as I drove back from town and it inspired the first verse - well after that it took on a life of its own. Photo is of Anemone Pulsatilla just started blooming. .
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 44
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments6
A fine write and pic still M. Is this a quinze-wotsit or whatever? Any more brilliantly inspired troisaine thingys?!
I think it's a diddly plunkit but to be sure I'll ask Mrs Berle
You know, some churches on a Sunday can be dull as dish-water (or ditch-water), but not all of them! I see people in the park having more fun outside than being inside church some Sundays. And I dunno about 'excitement' - not too much now, we've not had excitement in 'our church' for 50 years now, some say! lol.
A good write about Sundays Michael. They were always special but not quite the same nowadays.
Just so Andy - cheers.
Love the flow and fresh feel to this verse Michael -- it describes Sunday is many a place. Love the picture of your gorgeous Anemone Pulsatilla .
Thank you Fay
I disagree! I think you caught the whole of the day....... it all runs beautifully and picks up all the pieces of life on a Sunday........ (although here there are no fathers out doing their own gardens - that's why they have to work until 10 pm so they can pay the gardeners - fathers were always doing their own gardening when I was young - oh well their loss)............ I love the picture of the diddly plunkit.......
Thanks so much Lorna. My son works so hard during the week running his business and weekends are taken up with ferrying grandchildren all over the place to football etc so I end up as their unpaid gardener. pleased toy like the diddly plunkits . 🙂 🙂
Very nice rhyming poem, enjoyed it very much. Love Sundays! Also loved the picture of your Anemone. Hopefully soon enough I shall see flowers!
Fingers crossed for you Christina - yesterday was like a summer day here - the countryside looked beautiful.
Michael,
As a child, I was taught that Sundays were to be a day of rest. Then adulthood happened and reality set in! Sundays became the busiest of the seven days! Everything that I didn’t have time to do during the week, became a Sunday chose...exhausting!
A great write with a beautiful pic! The last two lines are perfect...for me!
~Laura~
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