My Cart 
Login 

This site exists for one purpose only: to help dispel the ugly and absolutely untrue myth that poetry is boring. Granted, a lot of poetry is boring, but you won't find it here. At Your Daily Poem, you'll find poetry that is touching, funny, provocative, inspiring, uplifting, and surprising. It may punch you in the gut, it may bring tears to your eyes, it may make you laugh out loud, but it most assuredly will not bore you!

Poetry on YDP—by poets living and long dead, famous to completely unknown--is specially selected for accessibility and appeal. Thanks so much for visiting—and remember: a poem a day keeps the doldrums away!


 



Weekend Plans
by
David Holper

In a talk I recently heard, the speaker said
that at 50, a man has less than
1500 weekends left in his life.
Having chewed on this fact for the last week,
I now realize that my 1499th weekend is coming.

And so I’m making big plans:
On this 1499th remaining Saturday,
I plan to grade a stack of student papers.
But knowing that there are only so many of these
Saturdays to sit through,
I am planning on writing the most
remarkable comments and grades
I have ever composed.

Instead of pointing out where the prose clunks,
I will say that the sentence over which I stumble
reminds me of a ’62 Fiat convertible
I once owned, a car that ran well enough
when I bought it,
until I rear-ended a truck one day
and the front end crumbled
pushing the radiator back just enough
that the fan chewed a hole through
the back end,
the blades not only making an unearthly racket,
but also bleeding the radiator dry
and leaving a green stain on the pavement.

And instead of pointing out that a comma is not a coma,
that noone and alot are two words,
that a manor is a large country house,
(in a manner of speaking)
and that collage
is not an institution of higher learning,
I will point out to them that Shakespeare, too,
invented new spellings and words
so that rather than see their grades as a kind
of condemnation,
they might rather embrace these marks as a sort of celebration
of their wild and anarchic spirit
which has emancipated itself from all bounds,
from all pedestrian, prosaic concerns
on this glorious, remaining 1499th Saturday. 


This poem first appeared in Ruminate (2009/2010 Issue #14: Jest)
Used here with the author's permission.



 


David Holper has published one novel, The Church of the Very Last Chance (Deeper Magic Press), and four collections of poetry: Bord för En (Swedish for “Table for One”) (Broken Tribe Press), Language Lessons: A Linguistic Hejira (Deeper Magic Press), The Bridge (Sequoia Song Publications), and 64 Questions (March Street Press). His poems and stories have appeared in numerous literary journals and anthologies. David lives in Eureka, California, where he served as the City of Eureka’s inaugural poet laureate from August 2019-August 2021.  He loves that Eureka is far enough away from the madness of civilization, so he can still hear the Canada geese. Learn more about David at https://www.davidholper.com



Post New Comment:
EstherJ:
Funny!
Posted 10/09/2025 09:55 AM
dotief@comcast.net:
I love this poem. How many weekends have I spent grading papers? Too many, and sadly, I don't suppose I shall ever get them back to bolster my diminishing number.
Posted 10/09/2010 10:22 AM
Contents of this web site and all original text and images therein are copyright © by Your Daily Poem. All rights reserved.
As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. Purchasing books through any poet's Amazon links helps to support Your Daily Poem.
The material on this site may not be copied, reproduced, downloaded, distributed, transmitted, stored, altered, adapted,
or otherwise used in any way without the express written permission of the owner.