A state of mind

The pencil rests on paper, readily and sharp it stands head first

The hand grips its lead-sword tightly, in closed fist it holds firm

The arm stretches across the line-spaced landscape, straight to the top it reaches, to the beginning

The eyes rest upon the emptiness of white space, awaiting its assignment; keeping the pencils soldiers in line

The mind, closed and empty, will not mitigate the others, will not feed the hunger, will not create

And so it all rests upon white, empty canvas. An maybe yes, and maybe no, the pieces will one day connect

Monday Blues

So, here we are again...
You and I
Me, surprised and worn out
With red eyes I wake
Wake to see you standing there waiting
You, again, impatient and grey
Filled with things for me to do
Hurrying me out of bed
Oh, how I hate your ever-presence
Always there when I turn around
Where do all of the other days go
I wonder
And why is it always you, Monday, who wakes me up from my dreams..