ManicDDaily

To Do

I make such a todo
of the to-do
that I don’t make time
to be.

To be or not to be, ponders Hamlet.
Don’t be a do-bee, responds me (after Miss Connie).
Dooby dooby doo, croons Frank Sinatra.

Frankly, my dear,
though I don’t always like his style,
Sinatra probably said it best;
for Hamlet doesn’t even make it
through the play,
and Miss Connie (of Romper Room)
never actually said it
my way
(ahem).

For there’s naught quite like
a dooby-do
when you just don’t know the words–
(so much so absurd)–
when you strive to do
what you want to be
and not to be
what you do,
when your face surprises
in mirror’s light,
when your shadow seems
yet stranger in the night–
when the world swims by
in grey-green glances
stillness swarming
insect dances–
so many many hums,
and you’ve got
to sing something–

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A draftish sort of poem for a prompt by Fireblossom (Shay) on With Real Toads to write something involving lists.  I mean dooby here solely as the dooby that goes with doo!  I wrote the poem last night and have probably over-lengthened today–originally ending with good old strangers in the night, but that seemed a bit grim. 

Have a nice weekend, and check all the great posts at Toads. 

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PS – both drawings are recycled, but old favorites–all rights reserved.

Pps– I have edited since first posting .