Of bright mornings
and scorching beds
Your body lays
unmoved and spent
  
Rarely do you stay for coffee
but it's past 8 am
and still
you're here beside me.

Nothing is more amazing
than Sunday mornings spent
with your happy, sleeping face
nestled against my *******.

- PMT

Ease your way
Into Sunday,
Monday’s here soon enough.
Friday’s best,
Time to rest,
The week was tough.

Boozeday Tuesday is okay
I must say
And Table Tennis Thursday ain’t bad too.
Wednesday’s fish and chips are yummy –
They fill my tummy,
Washed down with a brew.

I love Saturday sport,
Who would have thought
I’d get set in my ways?
Such is my week,
Hardly unique,
But on Sunday I laze.

Paul Butters

Your lies so killing,
This morning in May.
My screams internal.
I cannot stay away.

I must statue on,
Must parade this good day.
As your lies dismantle
This morning in May.

Tired Sundays,
What a fun day,
Make believe,
To fulfill my need,
To be happy,
At peace,
And to sieze

what would you say. if i said. that i thought. that you loved me
just for a second in time. but for now you’re above me
picking chrysanthemums by the lake never felt so appealing
teaching me how to speak cause you're a decent human being
those peachy rose cheeks would you mind if i picked one
surrounded by that soft tan from playing in that big sun
and your name should be Pooh cause your persona is honey
my queen bee yessiree she makes the stickiest worries funny
though hey. yes i know. that you don’t really love me
but one day. it will pass. like the spring. blossom lovely

Once around the long arm passed
Swung low the leaden bauble
Twice around the long arm passed
Hellos at the threshold
Young with old makes for storytelling,
Dragons look down
Imps smile in glee
And plaid checkered cloth
Gathers stains.
Newspaper discarded tes cosy
All around the long arm swept.

Sunday.
The coffee knows,
and my toes;
I can't move either.
Sunday.
House is quiet,
after the riot;
it's a breather.
Monday.
Comes too fast,
a weekend passed;
not a pleaser.
Sunday.
Through a week,
your silent break
is just a teaser.
Sunday.
Feelin' lazy;
it's all hazy...

It’s another lonely day

Washing clothes. I might stay

In as the weather’s so cold.

Breeze blowing through cracks

And gaps makes the house

Sound so old.


I tell myself I feel fine;

Bones ache upon the line;

Hung out to dry with yesterday's shirts,

And bleach spotted sheets.

Shivering becomes the norm;

I take it as a sign.


I wrap up as warm as I may,

Cloth upon cloth,

fold upon fold.

It’s not enough I sigh,

As the heating starts to lie.

I crave warmth, but heat

Escapes and meets the outside

With a smile and starts to fade.

It’s another lonely day.

A rainy sunday afternoon...
I'm stuck inside singin' a tune..,
The weather's  forcing me to stay,
I'm not runnin' away...

It's a rainy, dreary, fogged out town,
Just a couple days ago everything shined,
But now, no one can leave
No one can breathe...
It's such a rainy, pourin' sunday, afternoon.