A humble poem


Im not a poet but I was home one day off from work and was just thinking i didn’t know what to do with myself. I was trying to decided what to do or what I should be doing and these thoughts started to come to me. I thought someone might like this or relate to this. (Again i repeat I’m not a poet so please bear with me).

Monotony

The monotony of the day to day;
gather the trash, for the trash man tolls,
little plastic bag after little plastic bag.

Stop, sit, wait, what next;
check the communiqué lines,
login waiting waiting waiting……nothing new today.

O check the hardlines,
“Please enter your password then press pound you have no new messa-”
What about the post, the carrier came at twelve today he may bring new news.

To my suprise something does come,but alas only requests mostly demands for funds.
The day if filled with little frivolities that amount to a life full of nothing.
Trying to fill the day with meaning, a purpose, waiting for life to start.

Everyone says “Your already living it” but i don’t believe them.
I just seems as if the days run together, and days or no longer days;
but actually become sequential task, but back to the task at hand.

Collecting bygone task,
throwing away the past, days gone by.
Memories of things once desired no longer needed

The monotony of the day to day;
gather the bygones, for life tolls on,
little plastic bygones after little plastic bygones

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2 thoughts on “A humble poem

  1. Brilliant! Your protests concering your status as a poet fall on deaf ears here! When inspired in the futrue I encourage you to again write it down.

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