The Seven Tones of Riley

So I was happily browsing the internet, doing nothing much that was productive, when I came across this image:


I almost wrote this based on a normal 9-5 week, but decided against that and went for my week instead. It’s a bit of silly fun (poetry is far from my forte), so laugh with me and not at me 😉

The Seven Tones of Riley

Sunday is ambitious, a girl of many plans,
She is the adventurous one, the one who had no bans.
She loves to shop at brocantes, buying afghans, dustpans, toucans,
In fact, she buys just anything that she could grab with her fat hands!
And after that, to work she goes with a face full of smiles and suntans,
And by the end of her shift, she falls exhausted into sleepy wonderlands.

Monday is a slovenly wench, pyjama clad with straggly hair,
But she revelled in her lazy day, all draped across her chair.
A grin stretched across her tired face and she said with quite a flair:
“Today I shall do nothing, and I will not go elsewhere,
For unlike others who race to work, those with full despair,
Today I begin my weekend, and I do not give a single care!”

Tuesday, she is quite a mover, as productivity  headlined.
She scrubs and cleans and rubs and dusts, blowing cobwebs from both home and mind.
“It’s a day to get stuff done,” she says, “a day I use to rewind,
And undo all the mess I made during my work and lazy days combined.”
She whizzes here, she whizzes there, will oh will she find,
That final speck of dust and then, she can finally unwind.

Wednesday is a writer-type and she’s creative with her prose,
She sits and types and laughs and cries as her characters face life’s throes.
Wednesday is a happy lass, and it most definitely shows,
As she sits and does what she loves most, making sure that everybody knows,
That to disturb her now means the pain of death, a life brought to its close,
Although even she admits, it’s only in her stories that she stoops to these true lows!

Thursday is a Domestic Goddess, or at least she pretends to be!
She cooks treats for all and sundry, although her husband he does plea:
“Thursday, I do love your treats, so keep them all for me!”
Thursday cannot do that though, for she makes the treats with glee,
For all those lovely French-folk who for the treats say “oui!”

Friday’s face is rather saggy, as early she does rise.
She drags herself to work with sleep still in her eyes,
For she does not like to wake so soon, and this she does despise!
But when she starts, it all does change and she starts to feel the highs.
Work gets busy and she doesn’t stop and it’s then she rather thrives,
For then it does upon her dawn that she’s grown quite fond of these barflies!

Saturday is a worker girl, full of life and energy,
She is sprightly, she is active, perhaps she’s like a flea!
She works hard and loves it too, and I’m sure you will agree,
That Saturday is a happy girl with the stamina of three.
She jumps around and moves about, until it’s time for tea,
And then she sits and chills and thinks “how great it is to be me.”


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