A year's worth of poems, every week for 52 weeks, spanning 2023 and 2024, plus the years following, from August 2024 to August 2025, 2025 to 2026 (provided I live that long, of course).
Thank you, sǝlɹɐɥƆ. I've contested the Charlie Chaplin thing a couple of times, won once, if I remember correctly. But it's the kind of thing I try when bored and have nothing better to do - just doesn't seem to have happened lately.
It is expected that we fight to stay,
to stand at bay as the evening shadows
gather in the rays of our dying day
and suffer the final slings and arrows.
And yet I am not moved bravely to say
that I will battle to the last with you,
a mercenary still and wanting pay,
as if the war did not concern me too.
The temptation being to say thee nay,
so to end the burdens and the striving,
because so desperate has been this way,
toward an end my exhaustion driving.
Line count: 12
Rhymed abab
For Promptly Poetry Challenge, Week 25
Prompt: Use these words in your poem, Day, Way, Say, Stay, Bay, Pay.
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