Here’s a blog post with a poem I published on New Year’s Eve, 2013–over six years ago! I’d forgotten all about it until I did a search for “New Year’s” on my website and found several. This one rings especially true, because I still have all the same issues with food, drink and laziness I wrote about back then. Not much has changed, except that I’m probably happier now than I was back then, and I’m definitely not as fat. Poets Speak Loud is still going strong–the next one is on Monday, January 27.
Wishing all my friends and readers a joyous New Year! I wrote this poem yesterday afternoon, in the nick of time to read it last night at the Albany Poets’ POETS SPEAK LOUD open mic at McGeary’s Irish Pub. Nothing like a deadline and the prospect of a friendly, enthusiastic audience to get the creative juices flowing. Once I publish this post, I’ll make a run to the store for egg nog and other sundries, then kick back at home with my hubby for New Year’s Eve.
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE NEW YEAR’S
Twas the night before New Year’s and all through my mind
Skittered thoughts of tasks undone and goals left behind.
Mean a new resolution to diet, I fear.
Those favorite noshes I thought wouldn’t matter
Have gone to my hips and I’m looking much fatter.
But giving them up? No, that’s out of the question,
So don’t give me all those nutritious suggestions.
No fasting, no juicing, no broccoli or tofu,
No counting of calories – to that I say screw you!
So bring on the pizza, the cheddar and brie,
The yummy dark chocolates to build more of me!
And bring on the box wines, the reds and the whites,
To lessen the chill of these cold winter nights.
Still, I can lose weight if I work out a lot,
Hit the Y every morning, get rid of my pot.
But it’s so much more pleasant to languish in bed
With my cat on my lap and my tummy well fed.
And my house is still messy, it only gets worse,
And probably will till they come with the hearse.
With cobwebs and closets with clothes overflowing,
And huge piles of books that I can’t resist stowing.
And everywhere paper is stacked up in hills,
Unread magazines, catalogs, unopened bills.
I solemnly vow that I’ll throw stuff away,
But what if I need it some bleak rainy day?
I could banish the clutter if I hired a maid,
But sadly I guess she’d expect to get paid.
Still, I could afford it if I sold more books,
But marketing’s harder by far than it looks.
And I still haven’t finished my brilliant new story,
The first of a trilogy destined for glory.
So many distractions, they tempt me away
From the tasks I’m determined to tackle each day,
From the far better person I know I could be
If I didn’t procrastinate, weren’t so damn lazy.
So this New Year’s, once more I resolve to do better,
Rise early each morning and be a go-getter.
Lose more weight, sell more books, become famous and rich,
So by this time next year there’ll be no need to bitch.