Monday, January 2, 2017

Day old (#PoetryMonday*)

So quickly it’s stale,
not New! New! New! New!

The day old year droops,
drops, sighs, aging fast,
devalued off the lot,
dinged and dented
before it’s even broken in,
becoming last year’s model as
already our eyes and hearts
and longings are set
on the newer new
coming soon to a life near us
in 364 days.

Our short attention span
winded, breathless
we look to the future,
the always shiny, ever fresh,
always receding,
false-promising future.

For now, we’re stuck here
with this day old “new” year
and its grand resolves gone sour
in a mere 24 hours.





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* Its PoMo! To learn about PoMo (POetry MOnday), click here. This one probably is a little raw and may need some more work. But isn't it true that we tire of the new quickly? Have your ever really wanted something that, as soon as it was bought, you weren't as enamored with? We look forward to a New Year and a "fresh" start, then wake up and are met with the same old same old. Any thoughts? Please share them in the comments!

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