"And I begin my weekend on the Friday,"
Ankit J Chheda 

On Monday I started to write a song,
The afternoon spent lazing around,
Memories of the Sunday night,
Like a hangover hanging around,
I close my eyes for a moment,

As I always feel the day slipping away,
Before I know it Tuesday is on,
I start to put down words,
But the end won’t come to my mind,

And I know the day is slipping away
For Wednesday has come now,
I feel the wakening of the doer inside of me,
I sit down with my pen and paper,
With the t.v. switched on besides me,

Oh I know the day has slipped away,
Now at the centre of the week I’m on Thursday,
I start for one last time,
But I know I won’t finish for the next 2 days,

And I wrote dad a dum da beep pada,
And I’m not surprised for the day has slipped away,
And I begin my weekend on the Friday,
Hanging around my incomplete song,
Just 5 words on the paper,
My head is spinning around,

And floating through time I’m onto the next one,
Its Saturday night I’m partying hard,
Not hard enough for my song undone is weighing me down,
I’m not sure what I’m gonna do about it,
So I try not to think just loose myself in the sound

As I dance to Sunday morning I,
I sleep from sun up to sun down,
Sunday night I’m roaming around,
I know tomorrow’s a new day,
I’m gonna finish that song,

Monday morning, I’m writing a song,
The afternoon spent lazing around,
Memories of the Sunday night,
Like a hangover hanging around,
I close my eyes for a moment,
My life’s slipped past when my eyes were shut,
Now I’ve forgotten what I was writing about,
Back to the start I don’t have another chance,
I curse life, for when I stopped it kept moving on.

Procrastination, the demon in me.
"That was my weekend, what did you do?"

Let me tell you about something I saw the other day,
when I was out walking through a field of hay.
The night was quite pretty, the air crisp and clear,
when I suddenly encountered a cat who was drinking a beer!
I walked a little farther and encountered some mice,
sitting around a card table, all playing dice.
The mice looked quite serious, they all dressed like thugs,
I was dumbfounded, and simply stared down from above.
Then I saw something that completely blew my mind,
it was a variety of animals, dancing in a conga line.
For hours and hours and hours they danced,
more animals joined in, even deer came to prance.
This party was larger than any I’d seen,
a couple of badgers were even smoking something green.
“Innocent” deer were snorting lines off of snakes,
and a couple drunk farm dogs were fighting with rakes.
A cat and a mouse were sitting in a barn,
entirely too drunk, they took turn telling yarns.
From across the field, you could hear an owl retch,
while a gaggle of geese slurred “Benny and the Jets.”
Sheep laughed, “Bahaha!” while dancing on tables,
the horses were getting it on in the stables.
This party was crazier than any I’d attended,
a pig even ended up losing an appendage.
As the sun came up, things started winding down,
all the cows went home, and the "Keg King" took off his crown.
I took this as my cue, it was time to depart,
so a couple mice and I hitched a ride on a farmer’s cart.
"Sayonara!" I yelled, "It's been lots of fun!
Everybody get home safe, try not to hurt anyone!"
But enough about me, let's talk about you.
That was my weekend, what did you do?

"because it's the weekend. I'll"
Morgan Powell 

I am the way the cold
seems to seep into your bones
on that one day in January.

I am the milk
in the eyes of a
lactose intolerant.
You take the risk once,
then never again.

I am turning the lights off
at 4 AM and running
upstairs. You know there's
nothing behind you,
but the sliver of
is still there.

I am the rejection letter.
You wait
and wait
and wait,
anticipation building,
only to receive me.
I bear nothing
but disappointment.

You are the smell of summer.
That first day
of the season when
you open the windows
and are greeted by songbirds
and the smell of freshly cut grass.

You are a favorite meal.
The one people crave
when they've eaten nothing
but ramen noodles
for the last 3 days. You
aren't tangible
but I can taste you as
if you were.

You are sleeping the day
away, but not caring
because it's the weekend. I'll
regret it tomorrow, but
damn does it feel good.

You are walking outside
barefoot at an ungodly
hour. Crickets chirping,
moisture in the air, each
breath you take goes
directly into your soul.

You are beauty
in the form of a person.
You are the trees and
clouds and
air we breathe, while

I am merely a
grain of sand
in your least favorite

for alina
"Over the weekend."

It's Friday evening.

My favourite part of the week.

As I make my way home
I dare to think about
The things I'd like to do
Over the weekend.

Not the things I have to do.
Not the things I ought to do.
But the things I want to do.

I rarely get to do them.

Plans have already been made
On my behalf.

And so
Before I know it

It's Monday morning.

"The usual every other court mandated weekend"
Nathan Millard 

You were wrong about me…

You were
About me

And I am glad I realize this now
Because you would never have been the one to admit it
And now I am done
You gave me nothing
Except snide remarks

You never had a good thing to say
        Never had a kind word leave your lips
  That is until it was greased with black velvet

Then and only then
They pour out, slurring and sloshing
Like the last drink before bed

Only your words don’t come with ice
Like your dinks have to

But some times
More often than not
No words are said at all

For more than a year at times
Nothing was said

No Happy birthday
No merry Christmas
And least of all
A Hello

So now that I have spent time without you
Out of earshot
I am starting to see how wrong you were
But I am also seeing you for who you are
You are no longer the reflection
Looking up at me in the broken glass
                              I had to swept up from the floor
You aren’t the spontaneous, Unreliable
Dad who goes out and buys a sailboat

No instead I see who you really are

Hurt, Scared, Defensive
Only you can’t raise a child  at arm’s length
I can relate to your child hood
After all I too know what its like to try and sift pearls of wisdom from the fountain of inebriated words pouring from a parents mouth
Maybe I just got better at it than you
It takes time and you generally just end up with handfuls of ash but every once in a while you see the shimmery white bead of wisdom standing out from its dark surroundings

I do not
In anyway
Condone what you did
But there comes a point that I realized
Part of where our relationship being muddled messed up and painful falls to me
It is not my fault you did what you did
But it was mine that I expected any different
  A bad night
  Ending in tears
  Harsh words and slammed doors
  And profuse apologies the next morning
  The usual every other court mandated weekend
None of which my fault
But the four-hour car ride home
In which I usually decided to forgive you...
     That was
I should have never believed after the second or    
    third time that things would change
After the eighth or ninth
    Or when I lost count
I gave you second chance after second chance
Hoping one day that old ugly saying wouldn’t be true when I woke up the next morning

That saying being:
“I have three priorities
And my truck”

I guess I can’t fault you for being honest but when you said sorry and you looked so sincere is when I wanted your honesty to come through while in actuality that’s where it faltered

So it’s not worth me holding a grudge
Getting back and trying to get even

When you hold in all of that poison it hurt you more  
  than who you hold the grudge against

   You were wrong about me
I thought you should know and one day if you don’t yet, you will see that
One day I will look back and see how wrong you were but not resent you for it
It's when I realized this I started to forgive you
It may not be okay what happened
But I will be okay so I can’t waist myself on being angry, it only hurts me

So you know what dad

I forgive you

Next page