sloth life
this
my foggy
brain
creep
dull walk
sleepy
move
like I’m
still.
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Day 19? NaPoWriMo I don’t know the prompt. Too tired to look. I think I’ve missed some days. I am so tired. Trying to keep it together.
poem-glow? April 1, 2021
Oh, yeah.
I used to gleam.
Shining sparkling day-glo shimmer
You know what I mean?
But Covid, man.
It’s worn me out.
Dulled my bright-light
What’s this exhaustion about?
It’s just going to work,
same as before
Just wearing a mask
washing hands, washing hands, and washing some more.
What’s so tiring about that?
I have absolutely no clue
But I’m heading to bed now at dinner time.
How are you?
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#NaPoWriMo Day 1. The official prompt from napowrimo.net was a video that triggered my TBI sensory over-load so I couldn’t watch it. 
I’ve come home from work, and again it’s not even 6 p.m. and I’m ready to crawl into bed with an eye mask, a heating pad, and an audio book. I can’t believe how exhausted I am all the time now! How’s a girl supposed to get poetry written, let alone books and stories! Arg. I hope you’re feeling less exhausted.
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Ignore any ads below. Unless they’re for Fluevog shoes, I don’t endorse them!
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poem-traditionalists December 18, 2020
Someone has to care enough
to do the grunt work.
Haul up the tree
Heave. Grunt.
Whip up the shortbread.
Beat. Grunt.
Dig out the toboggans, drive to the hill.
Wheeee! Grunt.
Cook the turkey. Shop. Wrap the presents.
Grunt
Grunt
Grunt.
Some years the off-stage magicians are silent,
but this year you can hear us
grunt.
poem- pandemic life December 2, 2020
It is a wearisome year
Each new day weighs heavier
than yesterday.
Poem- choking December 1, 2020
Tonight amid the Christmas decorations
grief is hanging on our tree;
loss pummels
hopefulness.
Sadness hollows out my chest,
crushes my shoulders,
lodges in my throat.
Longing overwhelms.
There is no comfort
here, only more memories
of what is gone
who is gone
when is gone
where is gone.
Tonight is too much to bear,
so I’ll climb into bed and
trust tomorrow brings
solace and that much lauded
peace of the season.
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poem-the dog peeks out of the blankets November 26, 2020
The alarm. Snooze hit five times.
The feet unsteady.
The eyes blur the room.
Shoulders ache.
Ankle twinge.
Tired. So tired.
A good day to stay inside.
Light a fire.
Bake something to take
pandemic weariness away,
But the mask is on
Happy face
the work day
awaits.
poem- staggering November 17, 2020
when the students have left,
around the building:
faces crease with concern
bodies droop with fatigue
eyes anguished.
How long can the facade hold
when everyone’s
barely upright?
poem- uh oh November 6, 2019
I am dissolving
melting
unraveling
falling
blinking
broken
ready
for
rest.
poem-too exhausted March 2, 2016
Too exhausted to care
whether the sensitive child is traumatized
by my insistence that she complete the
assignment as required.
Too exhausted to laugh
at the absurdity of end of term panic
after six weeks of poor attendance and disorganization.
Too exhausted to do more
than get through the day myself,
with nothing left for under-achievers who think
I should go over and above for them.
Too exhausted today to care
more about student success they they do.
There’s always tomorrow.
poem-overwhelmed February 3, 2016
Stacks of articles, demanding my brain
focus and think logically.
Assignment instructions I just want to avoid.
My students drive me crazy when they show this sentiment.
But then, I’ll actually get the work done
(on time)
despite the procrastination,
which they frequently do not.
So many papers. So tired from report cards and marking stacks of late assignments and prepping for a new semester and February.
So.
Tired.
But the end is in sight.
I can’t give up now.
