...but I'm so lost I've completely forgotten to quote John Greenleaf Whittier was it?


(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXXXII)


Winds howl as blizzard snow flies whitely hence
While traffic becomes rare; the blanket's hale
And covers all until there is no trail
Left.  If the powr blinks out lo, for intents
Our internet does also, whiles for sense
They now discuss the future--how to scale
T'will be worse in the wild, and that'd avail.
But I?  Well, pray; be thankful...for what hence?
O, that the Scriptures are restored.  And fer
The lack of online access, with the cue
It might be gone forever now? eat through
Some choc'late bar I'd saved, like tis not poor
To stuff your face with choc'late when in tour
Joys fail.  Cuz after all--um...where are YOU?!

25Nov18b

Forsooth.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXXXI)


Snow.  White flakes jostle like small children, veil
This fragile twilight in descent as thence,
Where rain waltzed gaily on these puddles, hence
O me!  How white tricks out what's left t'avail
Our fainting souls of colour, as to scale
It blankets all we knew ere in what sense
Calls Winter; and I spose tis ne pretense,
For lo, November closes soon, gone stale.
So crank up class'cal strains to salve as twere
The galling note of Death, is't?  Ergo, to
Effect how xmas lights now twinkle through
Nights gone so black, while sales fly; none demur
To put up trees for festive gifts' grand tour,
And I've forgotten what, LORD?  say not...You.

25Nov18a

...never ends since Mum died.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXXX)


O languid hours whose weeping softens thence
These greyer twilight minutes, which detail
Is sweet by dint of that, likeas t'avail?
What of our conversation last night, whence
I cull as wont a vision in defense?
We talked into the wee hours, til in pale
Excuse my heart yearns for my brother.  Stale
As dreams false suitors drew up, whither hence?
T'will snow ere dawn shall shift the veil in tour,
And aught that now is Autumn, buried to
Effect in Winter, will be lost anew.
Sip coffee with Dad (on the phone) yet fer
All that content to be, and what is poor?
I'm as a sailor floundring til with You.

24Nov18b  
*Note:  again finishing with an address to the LORD.  The difference in stanzas addressed to men or to the LORD God is whether whom is addressed is in all caps or with only one.

"...minutes hasten to their close"



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXXIX)


Ah me! rain's subtle voice upon the tale
Of fallen leaves where dusk, late perished thence,
'Most haunts our passage with a deeper sense
I push aside, to hearken in betrayl
To those delicious footfalls like t'avail,
Small conversation lost to keen suspense
As lo, more fragile notes half trip from hence
So near, and yet in ghostly fashion'd hail.
As if my soul yields to feigned sense as twere,
Which swears tis but the wind whose passing through
'Non teases longings, how the windshield fer
All that shows tiny droplets clustring to
Effect; what is't that I'm allowed in poor
'Scuse to hear what I've yearned for?  Is it...You?

24Nov18a  
*NOTE:  that final individual addressed is:  the LORD.

...sigh



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXXVIII)


Mists gird the skeletons of woods as hence
Dawn blushes pink in fragile twilight, pale
Gold clouds above, the highways now to scale
Half empty as how traffic speeds fr'intents
Upon its way, the ghostly veil which thence
Leaves yonder as a question we'll avail
Ourselves in finding later, oh! sweet frail
And silent minutes we drive through: what's whence?
If only I could linger here, nor stir
For aught save p'raps YOUR soft caress!  the dew
Which last night's pure moon wrought with as it were
Such careful fingers as that lace we view
As "frost," tis hoary white as lo, in tour
Our very breath which now we bate--how'd woo!

23Nov18b

...on my head --that should do us both good since YOU're not keen on aught knowing YOU love me too.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXXVII)


O madness of these dolls my niece'd avail
Herself of cuz they're popular and thence
What aught who'd buy her favour purchase hence,
(Where I was far too poor to dream in frail
Excuse of any such things in betrayl,
When I was just a child)! The vid'os' sense
Of, well erm, foolish joy in these--pretense,
I cannot even like the dolls to scale.
Nor did adulthood change my view as twere.
Goodwill in lieu of e'en the mall MY cue,
They all look now askance at me in tour,
My peers thus none too blind.  What did I do?
Or wherefore is't I'm on the fringe, 'til YOUR
Love is a marvel none explain, O YOU?

23Nov18a

Yes, that should do.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDX)


What happened to long summer hours' dim sense
Of leisure, where I pined for chill t'avail,
And stoked the thought of misty twilight's pale
Eye while gaunt skeletons of trees skulked thence,
Dreamed of 'gain donning plaid and tweed fr'intents,
Yea of lo, nestling in such minutes' scale
Praps of "my niche"--that oh! tis ah, the frail
Note as it were of late November hence?
Why did warmth skip out on the last train to
Was't Mexico? um, was just days 'go fer
All that?  Where did the musty hours I knew
Depart to, eh?  and when?  December'd tour
Upon the heels of late October, poor
As saying, and I search for my bearings...too.

11Nov18b