...yesterday, did I?! Tsk, tsk.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXVII)


Poinsett'yas red for Xmas "cheer," detail
The huge, white snowflake cutouts with a sense
Of all we dreaded facing, tree fr'intents
A green fir Santa's head hangs from t'avail,
I've Irish strains to give the silence bail
As merry jigs in season charm from hence
The dead calm I'd not wake, but why's defense
So dearly wanted like I'm lost? Joys fail?
I know! Tis amb'ance for a party. Were
Such mine t'indulge in, these might as well do
That want of "what's just right" some good. Is't poor
Now I am dying of boredom strangely too?
Put on Tchaikovsky after Celtic fer
This restless sense I can't shake--oh, where to?!

07Dec24b

Her gift delivered late morning ere I was off, to go straight to the grocery store would have made me too late to retrieve it until Monday, which she thought unwise, so I had a lot of driving to do...where gas is too expensive.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMVIII)


Race home just after nightfall, changing thence
From work clothes to me ain for that detail
Called groc'ry shopping, Starbucks to avail
Tomorrow, snapping photos of that, thence
For posting online, shy barista hence
Half hiding from the cam'ra, on the trail
To who cares what, my list and hopes for bail,
How friendly others were, like in defense!
The Xmas gift from Cynthia stowed in tour,
Our fridge holds all, despite the fear twas too
Much, as we've dinner late; tree lit as t'were
For flavour, how the pie* is now quite through
As our dessert, where how the morrow fer
All that seems'd come too soon. LORD, I need You.

06Dec24b

When you want to put the name of the weekday in the title and make a stab at being.... inventive?!

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXV)


Sweet golden hours whose amb'ance seems t'avail
Us now this hectic week is closing, whence
We've laughter 'stead of anger, like defense,
Till shadows 'gin to stretch their lengths, the pale
Eye of late afternoon with aught detail
Askew, until we're scrambling as pretense
Winks in the thought of twilight where the sense
Of yonder is confused and asking bail.
As ev'ning 'gins to haunt these blue heavns' pure
Note, calm 'most 'ppears to be the rule--is't true?
And why's my foot stuck in my mouth as t'were
Again? I woke confused; thought tomorrow to
Effect was here; looked up my schedule, poor
Though being bewildered. Oh LORD, I need You.

06Dec24a

Meow?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXII)


Come 'gain?! How Robert would surprise me, whence?
We hang out and he tells me in betrayl
Of his most recent girlfriend, whose detail
Yes, of divorce, at last comes out for sense;
And I'm disgusted with her rudeness, thence
To laugh, yet lo, remind him I'd ne'er hail
Him thus: she's like a Hallmark lover, frail
As lying and using him, like she'd defense.
Then off to bed with me cuz third shift's tour
Of duty needs more rest, so that will do.
He teases that he'll marry me, but's poor.
I know now we're just friends.  Naught else is true.
Did she know of me? YES. But, what? For her
He bent oer backwards. Not my style. None woo.

04Dec24b

Tis hereditary, I assure ye; the only question is whether the series of strokes which very nearly took Mum 8 years too early were from the aspirin she took for hers whereas she trained me to avoid drugs of any sort except Daddy taught me to love black tea and coffee.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMMX)


Frost twinkles in morn's golden eye, a sense
Of hope awak'ning in that keen detail,
Where soft blue heavns sport white fluffs gone on sail
Without a care, if only. How from hence
A headache nags like tis passé as thence
Is't true?! I drank a bunch of coffee, frail
As rarely drinking joe, like that'd avail,
Yet nothing seems to own, is it defense?
My colleague has twa plastic cups in tour
Frae Starbucks, so I tell him of stars to
Be gained in rather using your ain fer
Aught drink; tell him of "red cup day" next too,
Til by the time we'd part he'd quite concur.
Night watches as I leave. LORD, I need You.

03Dec24

"...a) Apple Pie: Independent, realistic, and compassionate; b) Pecan Pie: Thoughful and analytical; c) Chocolate Pie: Loving; d) Pumpkin Pie: Funny and independent" Now, which one are you, dear reader?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMVIII)


Tis Nash'nal Pie Day, asking for intents
"Which pie are you?" My parents used to hail
Me as lo, "Pumpkin--" where seems that detail
Means "funny, independent," til from hence
I wonder if that's why they did, a sense
Of all I am within that label, frail
As thinking such things stuff and nonsense, bail
For how I 'non approach life, is't pretense?
What if it's true? My friends now as it were
Will call me "crazy," in a fun way, to
Be certain, and I've nary suitor, fer
All that. Been called "free spirit" whence, is't true?
To think twas sweet potato pie in tour
They served us lately. Then: which pie are you?

01Dec24b

...I've either the power of coercion or else most everyone else I meet concurs: 2024 has gone by impossibly fast.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMVII)


December first is here once more, the tale
Of months, weeks, hours--this year--are flown from hence
As Xmas tricks the days out with a sense
Of fabled dreams we've known in sheer betrayl
Lo, all our lives: the colored lights' detail
Which Daddy set up for the tree's pretense
Whose silver tinsel arms Mum unpacked thence,
To put in all the slots what'd e'er avail.
If presents were less grand than dreams as t'were,
If stories of th'impovrished matched ours to
Effect, what of it? Sugar plums in tour
Were lines in songs; the camel cookies' cue,
Green sugar cookie wreaths with red hots'd cure
Our visions in good style, as how all'd woo!

01Dec24a