In this poem, the narrator is angry and depressed. But this is just a moment...a funk...like we all experience sometimes. It's not really this person at all--it's a facade. Like the mean old man who's not really mean at all... The narrator calls kids and pets "junk", but then turns around and passes out popsicles and attentively watches their bike tricks. "Junk" is part of the narrator's "mean old man" syndrome, but the narrator can't keep up the facade for long--not even through one whole day....
P.S. This is a fictional poem--I've never called anyone "junk" in all my life. ;-)
SUNNY DAY
Sunny, happy, awful day
Ignore my tears, laugh them away
I hate you birds, I hate you trees
I hate you ants, flowers, bees
I snub my nose, I jeer, I growl
I fly a finger, swear, and scowl
Who needs Nature’s symphony?
No respect for misery
I’ll stay inside, inside to hide
I won’t give up my dismal pride
I’ll close my curtains, close them tight
No glitter-day, but moody-night
I’ll plug my ears from outside sound
Refuse to hear what’s all around
My neighbor’s chatter on the breeze
A child’s laughter, doggie-sneeze
Music from the ice cream truck
Ropes to skip, balls to chuck
I glance, I peek, I am intrigued
Depression’s left me weak, fatigued
I can’t keep up my own despair
Not with perfume in the air
I guess the porch is safe enough
But I’ll still frown, keep my voice gruff
I won’t return my neighbor’s grin
(Oh shit! I did, but I’ll still win)
I’ll fold my arms and glare at all
No welcome here—I’ll keep your ball!
But…no screens or doors protect my funk
From children, pets, and other junk
Fine! Here! Take a popsicle
Show me your tricks on your bicycle
Yes, I’ll pet you, you annoying cat
Nod to the neighbors, just like that
Slump in my chair, an utter defeat
I can admit when I’ve been beat
Oh sunny, happy, awful day
You stole my wallow all away
How dare you sparkle, glitter, shine
How dare you…you…oh… Fine.
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