Wednesdays are like come-ons.
Tempting while I blush
and engulfing me in the spirit of madness.
The good spirit (sans spirits),
a phantom release of pleasure.
Free from the escape,
unencumbered by the echo
of days just passed.
Wednesdays are to me an image
ripe and pure.
The vixens of the mid-week
impelling my vocabulary,
nay, my gravity!
Altering the force of my axis and
wielding me with naïve joy.
How sensitive and sarcastic of me to fight
an unearthly invitation.
Like the first cynic,
shall I lie with the dogs?
Or open free and wide the lung space
I'm apportioned
and open,
VASTLY OPEN,
those breathing apparatus;
while owning the best of myself
on the best of my days?
A question to be sure,
but one of obvious resolve.
Philessatry 
Tempting is correct! And through your words, Joyful 🙂
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I hope so 🙂 fair Wednesday gets no respect
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Still, beats being Poor Monday 😦
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She’s got some pep in her step, I’ll send up an ode to her soon enough.
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I love this! Written about a Wednesday! Great job.
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Haha, thank you!! She needed a little love….the “hump day” comments were getting to her
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“The vixens of the mid-week”, I won’t be able to think of Wednesday in any other way now. Fabulous line, wonderful poem. Have a lovely evening. ~ Mia
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It reminded me a chapter from “Winnie-The-Pooh”…
..
“Talking of Poetry,” said Pooh, “I made up a little piece as I was coming along. It went like this. Er–now let me see–”
“Fancy!” said Kanga. “Now Roo, dear–”
“You’ll like this piece of poetry,” said Rabbit.
“You’ll love it,” said Piglet.
“You must listen very carefully,” said Rabbit.
“So as not to miss any of it,” said Piglet.
“Oh, yes,” said Kanga, but she still looked at Baby Roo.
“How did it go, Pooh?” said Rabbit.
Pooh gave a little cough and began.
On Monday, when the sun is hot
I wonder to myself a lot:
“Now is it true, or is it not,”
“That what is which and which is what?”
On Tuesday, when it hails and snows,
The feeling on me grows and grows
That hardly anybody knows
If those are these or these are those.
On Wednesday, when the sky is blue,
And I have nothing else to do,
I sometimes wonder if it’s true
That who is what and what is who.
On Thursday, when it starts to freeze
And hoar-frost twinkles on the trees,
How very readily one sees
That these are whose–but whose are these?
On Friday—-
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” said Kanga, not waiting to hear what happened on Friday. “Just one more jump, Roo, dear, and then we really must be going.” …..
As for me it was always Tuesday the day… Have a nice day : )
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I like it! Now only if I can sell like the Pooh books, lol 😉
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Because the books are not for reading only and not for selling even, but for listening to them when they start to speak after some time to someone from the shelf. : )
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