Sunday Evening

Here’s a brand new poem! It’s called Sunday Evening, which is what it is here at the time of posting!

Seriously, though, don’t fight Monday. 🙂

Sunday Evening

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(cr: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/one-thing-you-can-do-sunday-guarantee-successful-week-karl-mcdonnell)

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An original poem by Coeur d’un Poète.
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What is it about Sunday that makes it dreadful?
Is it the sorrow for the short respite now gone,
or stressful anticipation for a work week in full?
Whatever you’re feeling on this day, you’re not alone.

We resist returning to work on the Monday’s eve
out of reverence for the deserved weekend’s rest.
We perceive the weekend lost as a moment’s reprieve
from a taxing and tiring routine of the daily stress.

Weeks are an endless cycle of adjustment,
of discontent and relief constantly relived,
but psychologically placed on abstract moments
we can’t prevent, and make us combative.

Breathe in, let the feeling of stress pass through
and desert you as soon as it came in.
Nothing stalls your enjoyment but you
if you don’t mind the motions within.

I can’t get up on Sunday’s twilight
And keep the coming Monday at bay.
It’s not for me to judge, and relive what is right,
but I keep calm, and prepare for the new day.

It’s in our code, to fight or take flight
in the face of dangers concrete or perceived.
Workweek anticipation is the evolution of our blights
and the chaining restriction of what we don’t acheive.

The joys and relief from relaxed routines
Are much indulged on the waning hours of the workweek
And quickly lost in the busy motion of weekend scenes
That they are fickle and few come the new week.

So what is it about Sunday that we dread?
Is it Monday’s workload or the week’s perceived length?
But why the stress? Should it not be spread?
Seriously, though, waking up won’t lead to death.

The more we fight, the worse the week gets.
Weekend joys are many, coming and passing.
For stress is the foster of all our heart’s regrets
that worsen the experiences we ought be enjoying.

Fret not for the work week approaching,
just soak in the moment that’s coming and going.
These are the moments both so joyful and fleeting
that are soon lost, but we know will soon be returning.

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Sunday Evening_1

cr: Live Life Happy
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Motorized Freedom

Here is a brand new poem for this weekend. For all of you motorcycle lovers out there!

Motorbike and City

(cr: Stern Law, LLC)

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An original poem by Coeur d’un Poète.

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I can remember the feeling,
riding on my dad’s former motorbike,
feeling the wind blowing by,
as we sped on past motorists alike.

The physical danger, outweighed by freedom,
is drowned in the moments and scenery
that shared with me their wisdom
thanks to this piece of machinery.

The journey on a bike is long
but lasting, and filled with fair lands,
a beautiful nature to which we belong
accessible through the gears at our hands.

I hear the motor, what a nuisance,
the continuous rumble and tussle,
but it’s the tool of acceptance
of a journey long, but wholly enjoyable.

(For my uncle).

Spring forth, into renewal

We’re back! Here is a brand new poem on what it means to experience Spring. I hope you enjoy it and experience your own sense of renewal.

Spring

(Cr: http://www.thevillagegrocer.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Spring.jpeg)
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An original poem by Coeur d’un Poète.
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This is the season of renewal,
to remove all of the old
and welcome what is new.
Winter came and reigned;
snow that covered constructed landscapes
landed, then melted just as fast.

All the while, living in a cycle
we humans complained in our bubble
of events of impermanence beyond control.
Snow stressed impermanent thoughts
when truly, that is a non-issue
feeding the figments of feeble minds.

Spring, the season to spring into action,
to abandon the uncertain for decision
and feel the freshness of new perspectives.
So goes the season, gives what was taken,
inspiring the prospects of wonderous ambitions
in the cradle of a cycle that’s yet to be sprung.

Life’s but a cycle, far from any permanence
or man’s ability to assert it’s own sense,
fictive dominance of a passing sense of control.
Follow the cycle, live and let it go,
let the freedom flow.
Follow the cycle of the ends and renewals.