The Sabbath Day.


C. J. Black


On the Sabbath Day, it was designed, people congregate and pray

It was to be a day of rest, to free the mind, a day to be blessed

I thought then I might, take heed of this and just not write

Not the easiest thing to do, one can’t but try, then tomorrow start anew

But as thoughts come flooding in, I realise I just can’t win

With the devil on one shoulder, my guardian angel on the other, by the minute growing older

I sit myself down with this pledge, my guardian angel I can’t enrage

But that devil just won’t back down, as in poetic words I drown

Having survived the day without writing a single word, my mind you can imagine was now becoming much more blurred

There was but one solution to this dilemma, which I could use causing little drama

Start writing at 23:59, then everything should turn out fine

Hopefully earlier thoughts will then resurface, and I’ll not have done anyone a disservice

I will then get on with the task in hand, hopefully everything will turn out grand

And I will have a poem complete, so my deadline I can meet-

Clap myself on the back, raise a glass in silent toast, for as you can perceive, I’ve just achieved my weekly post.

C. J. Black©β

07/07/2014 00:19:01