My brain thinks it's Saturday,
don't ask me why.
I looked at the window
almost ready to cry
when I realize the week
has just barely begun.
My brain thinks it's Saturday
and the week's nearly done.
Yep, my brain thinks its Saturday
with nothing much to do
except go shopping or read
or paint the bathroom bright blue.
Forget about work
and forget about chores
cause my brain thinks it's Saturday --
maybe go play outdoors.
So tomorrow is Wednesday,
Not Sunday, oh my.
Will I wake up tomorrow
unconfused and not try
to do all my Sunday things
sleep late and eat brunch,
cause I think today's Saturday --
or will I pack a light lunch?
When Saturday's Tuesday,
what's left in the week?
Four more days till my body
gets it right - dare I peek
into a new schedule
with Saturdays galore.
No, since my brain thinks it's Saturday,
let me sleep! Close the door!
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Away, Away
I remember his smile,
but it's fading away,
his eyes were blue
(or were they gray?)
as he kissed me once more,
nothing left to say
as he went on his way in the morning.
Away, away, my love has gone,
away he walked in the morning sun,
away he walked while the wind blew free,
but what will I do if he comes back to me?
I remember his laugh,
or I think I do,
he could make me laugh
with a word or two,
but what those words were,
I wish I knew,
as he went on his way in the morning.
Away, away, my love has gone,
away he walked in the morning sun,
away he walked while the wind blew free,
but what will I do if he comes back to me?
His hair was sandy -
my mother claims brown -
if he said my name wrong,
it would make me frown;
other girls wept
in my little home town
as he went on his way in the morning.
Away, away, my love has gone,
away he walked in the morning sun,
away he walked while the wind blew free,
but what will I do if he comes back to me?
I wept for a week,
then I sighed for another,
then one day at noon
I ran into his mother,
who invited me over
to meet his brother
who would always be home in the morning.
Away, away, my love has gone,
away he walked in the morning sun,
away he walked while the wind blew free,
but what will I do if he comes back to me?
but it's fading away,
his eyes were blue
(or were they gray?)
as he kissed me once more,
nothing left to say
as he went on his way in the morning.
Away, away, my love has gone,
away he walked in the morning sun,
away he walked while the wind blew free,
but what will I do if he comes back to me?
I remember his laugh,
or I think I do,
he could make me laugh
with a word or two,
but what those words were,
I wish I knew,
as he went on his way in the morning.
Away, away, my love has gone,
away he walked in the morning sun,
away he walked while the wind blew free,
but what will I do if he comes back to me?
His hair was sandy -
my mother claims brown -
if he said my name wrong,
it would make me frown;
other girls wept
in my little home town
as he went on his way in the morning.
Away, away, my love has gone,
away he walked in the morning sun,
away he walked while the wind blew free,
but what will I do if he comes back to me?
I wept for a week,
then I sighed for another,
then one day at noon
I ran into his mother,
who invited me over
to meet his brother
who would always be home in the morning.
Away, away, my love has gone,
away he walked in the morning sun,
away he walked while the wind blew free,
but what will I do if he comes back to me?
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Of Questions and Keywords
Some days I wonder long snarky thoughts
about people and places and what hath God wroughts,
of tombstones and rabbits and deep Prussian blue,
but Google's my friend and Wikipedia, too.
I learn about carbon, I learn about steel,
I learn how to dye and to spin with a wheel,
I learn about Chaucer and what the Wife of Bath knew,
since Google's my friend and Wikipedia, too.
When a question arises and the itch, it is risen
to learn about selkies or what is a frizzen,
I hop on my keyboard and type keywords anew,
since Google's my friend, and Wikipedia, too.
String theory, linguistics, and how to cook rice
all answered quite clearly, and done very nice.
The answers are tasty, like chocolate fondue,
since Google's my friend and Wikipedia, too.
So why do some people ask the most basic things?
Won't lift up a finger all covered with rings
to stroke their own keyboards to find answers so true
since Google's their friend, and Wikipedia, too.
I don't have the answers in some crystal ball,
but people ask questions like I should know it all.
I'll look up the key words or find them a clue,
since Google's my friend, and Wikipedia too.
about people and places and what hath God wroughts,
of tombstones and rabbits and deep Prussian blue,
but Google's my friend and Wikipedia, too.
I learn about carbon, I learn about steel,
I learn how to dye and to spin with a wheel,
I learn about Chaucer and what the Wife of Bath knew,
since Google's my friend and Wikipedia, too.
When a question arises and the itch, it is risen
to learn about selkies or what is a frizzen,
I hop on my keyboard and type keywords anew,
since Google's my friend, and Wikipedia, too.
String theory, linguistics, and how to cook rice
all answered quite clearly, and done very nice.
The answers are tasty, like chocolate fondue,
since Google's my friend and Wikipedia, too.
So why do some people ask the most basic things?
Won't lift up a finger all covered with rings
to stroke their own keyboards to find answers so true
since Google's their friend, and Wikipedia, too.
I don't have the answers in some crystal ball,
but people ask questions like I should know it all.
I'll look up the key words or find them a clue,
since Google's my friend, and Wikipedia too.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Aphrodite in Modern Times: La Divina Fanfiction
The god of war stood before her, his eyes devouring her. "You're alone?" he asked.
She nodded, her golden curls dancing as she stepped up to him. His hand traced fire down the side of her white neck. The beautiful goddess of love's breath caught as she gazed into his eyes, hooded and hungry.
"Now," he said, catching her hand. His other slid to the perfection of her cloth-covered breast. "Don't make me wait."
"What about..." she said.
"Don't even think there," he said, giving a short, hard laugh, and dragged her closer to his body. His mouth plundered hers as his hands swept down her back, stopping at length to fumble for the knots of her belt. "Forget your husband," he murmured. "There's only room for two in your bed."
His mouth trailed hot kisses down her neck and onto her snowy white bosom as he lifted her up and carried her to...
Aphrodite, goddess of love, heard footsteps behind her. She suddenly pushed her monitor button off. Hephaestus her husband stood behind her, fresh from the bath.
He smiled at her, a warm and cheery grin. "Anything worthwhile on the net?" he asked. If he noticed the flush in her cheeks or a touch of excitement, he ignored it.
"Oh, nothing much. Eros and Psyche sent an email invitation to dinner next week."
She frowned, and her husband laughed, walking up behind her. "You would think after 3000 years, you'd learn to appreciate your daughter-in-law," he said, breathing in her ear.
"Some things never change with time," she said, only pouting a bit.
He kissed her earlobe and gently draped a necklace around her throat, fine gold filigree twisted in delicate arabesques. "I made this for you this afternoon while waiting for those stupid oil field engineers to hurry up with their staff meeting. Wonder if they'll ever get any sense. Hope you like it."
She picked up a mirror, and admired her image, then turned around in her seat and took him by the hand, placed it over her right breast.
"Let me show you my appreciation, husband," she said, and led him away to the bedroom.
Later that night, Hephaestus, the clever craftsman of the gods, sat at his own computer as he uploaded another document to the fanfiction site. It still amazed him how Aphrodite loved reading this trash, but long as she enjoyed "Love and War: The Further Adventures of Aphrodite and Ares," he'd spend his late nights writing them. The hell with the threats Ares was sending him. The payoffs were worth the lost sleep.
A/N According to the old myths, Aphrodite, although married to Hephaestus, the craftsman of the gods, had a long-standing affair with Ares, the god of war. Eros was Aphrodite's son; his wife Psyche was not well loved by Aphrodite, and she rather literally once put her through hell. Interesting to think about how they have adjusted to the modern world...The title is a play on the Italian name of Dante's Divine Comedy, which is a description of one soul's visit to Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven.
She nodded, her golden curls dancing as she stepped up to him. His hand traced fire down the side of her white neck. The beautiful goddess of love's breath caught as she gazed into his eyes, hooded and hungry.
"Now," he said, catching her hand. His other slid to the perfection of her cloth-covered breast. "Don't make me wait."
"What about..." she said.
"Don't even think there," he said, giving a short, hard laugh, and dragged her closer to his body. His mouth plundered hers as his hands swept down her back, stopping at length to fumble for the knots of her belt. "Forget your husband," he murmured. "There's only room for two in your bed."
His mouth trailed hot kisses down her neck and onto her snowy white bosom as he lifted her up and carried her to...
Aphrodite, goddess of love, heard footsteps behind her. She suddenly pushed her monitor button off. Hephaestus her husband stood behind her, fresh from the bath.
He smiled at her, a warm and cheery grin. "Anything worthwhile on the net?" he asked. If he noticed the flush in her cheeks or a touch of excitement, he ignored it.
"Oh, nothing much. Eros and Psyche sent an email invitation to dinner next week."
She frowned, and her husband laughed, walking up behind her. "You would think after 3000 years, you'd learn to appreciate your daughter-in-law," he said, breathing in her ear.
"Some things never change with time," she said, only pouting a bit.
He kissed her earlobe and gently draped a necklace around her throat, fine gold filigree twisted in delicate arabesques. "I made this for you this afternoon while waiting for those stupid oil field engineers to hurry up with their staff meeting. Wonder if they'll ever get any sense. Hope you like it."
She picked up a mirror, and admired her image, then turned around in her seat and took him by the hand, placed it over her right breast.
"Let me show you my appreciation, husband," she said, and led him away to the bedroom.
Later that night, Hephaestus, the clever craftsman of the gods, sat at his own computer as he uploaded another document to the fanfiction site. It still amazed him how Aphrodite loved reading this trash, but long as she enjoyed "Love and War: The Further Adventures of Aphrodite and Ares," he'd spend his late nights writing them. The hell with the threats Ares was sending him. The payoffs were worth the lost sleep.
A/N According to the old myths, Aphrodite, although married to Hephaestus, the craftsman of the gods, had a long-standing affair with Ares, the god of war. Eros was Aphrodite's son; his wife Psyche was not well loved by Aphrodite, and she rather literally once put her through hell. Interesting to think about how they have adjusted to the modern world...The title is a play on the Italian name of Dante's Divine Comedy, which is a description of one soul's visit to Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven.
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