Health & Fitness
A Day To Forget
*This poem is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to my everyday life would most definitely include chocolate. And writing rule number one: always meet deadlines.
I sit at my desk on a hot August day,
wondering whether to write or to play
Mystery Manor or 100 Floors,
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or get on my bike and enjoy the outdoors.
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The beach--it is beckoning, three blocks away;
my story revisions can wait a whole day.
I put on my suit and slather the lotion,
I grab up my chair and head to the ocean.
I sigh in content as I sit on the sand,
a best selling mystery in one of my hands.
A sea gull does fly overhead and then swoops,
and decides it is time to take a good poop.
It splatters my arm and the pages are struck;
I don't need this type of so-called good luck.
I pack up my things and head off of the beach,
and stumble and fall and let out a loud screech.
I arise from the sand looking quite like
chicken that's breaded (to observers' delight).
On returning back home, I look at the date--
my work was due yesterday; now it's too late.
--Anne Skalitza, 2013