Sick day blues

[.Lucy.]

I feel like plaster,
spread thin against the hardness of life.
The fever spreading
through me in a surge,
burning my happiness with it.

I am blue.
Everything looks bleak.
Aches everywhere, a roadmap of pain.
A momentary lapse,
a weak spot.
My voice raspy,
it hurts to speak.

I drink tea
to ease my melancholy spirit.

Tomorrow will be better.

[constantine]

hi lucy. the plaster simile is a cool beginning. neato poem!

[saw]

sweet ....the way out of the blue room, is writing it all down, as you have done so nicely...i like the way poem ends with a message of hope....we spin through the cycles of life, just like the seasons...

[justwalt]

I have found "that" room to be a library, filled with wisdom,
a place of oneness with the emotion...intense and extreme, yet
safe, like above everything, looking downward at life, and at
myself... I remember the feelings like it was yesterday, but it was
32 years ago when I last sat in that room. There is only one door
there, the entrance is the exit.

your poems are so alive.

walt

[still.trucking]

What happened to Sick day blues part two?

Oh well

I am grateful I got to read it before you took it off.

Having plaster throat is a bummer
I hope you doing better.

It sounded like you had moved on to malaise





looking for a job is one of the hardest jobs I know.

I lost count of the jobs I have had around 1980 when the count was about 200. And that is the truth or close to it. Must be a couple hundred more by now.

Please keep on keeping on with the writing.
Writing is a cool job because every thing that happens is grist for the word mill.

Tomorrow it is going to be a beautiful day.
thanks for writing
Think Adam Clay Powell
"Keep the faith baby sister"