My note on this reads:  "shoulda been 01Apr19--begun just after midnight turned"



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXLI)


The Cardnal called as twere for me in pale
Dawn's early light--just once--as if for sense.
And lo, that line I'd penned in tribute thence
Comes to the 'fore--"...I've got [in sheer betrayl?]
A scarlet lover--" which I swiftly hail
With prayrs of "O! please give me to from hence
A man, LORD!" and how April Fools is't? dense
Wi' import finds "him" where I cherish...bail?
"Say twas an April Fool's joke--" in a poor
'Scuse for my prayrs and hopes keeps rolling through
My mind, but I dare NOT write THAT down.  You're
Allowed to laugh. Nor Cardnal, sparrows to
Aught purpose cry...until "he's" gone.  I stir
Me to weak smiles, cuz my heart's weary too.

02Apr19a

Ah, aka JF suggesting I could pull off "4 or 5 sonnets"--I took that and this was the final in that half hour just before midnight.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXL)


Ya, we sipped tea where whitish tendrils thence
Drew up that airy note of yonder, pale
And ghostly, likeas spirits in betrayl
E'er non in sheer ascent, with toast fr'intents
Ne conversation but that hallowed sense
Of I don't know what, til my brother'd hail--
Then talk, and back to work upon that scale,
While I waltzed through a dream like's not pretense.
Now as the furnace growls, the Scriptures fer
All that in Revelation, nothing's new.
Yet I'm confused.  How midnight knocks in tour,
The myriad influence of all I knew
Half urging me to chase down sleep to cure
This madness.  But that's not Thy Scripture's cue.

01Apr19d

just raises brows quizzically



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXVIII)


Soft blue skies feign a note of what fr'intents
I thought to know at dawn, whilst in betrayl
"He's" finished and quite gone, me like to scale
'Non wondring if twas all in that joke's sense
Of "April Fools!" or but a dream from hence?
To rub my eyes as groc'ries, laundry hail
Me for attention, dinner too, in frail
Excuse now feeling like I've small kids thence.
O! How I long to go outside and fer
All that, just breathe!  Forget the day we knew,
Hark to the birds, and lose myself as twere
In that soft calm.  But oh! that will not do.
Watch golden light draw shadows up, each fir
A lacy doily, til that sunset cue.

01Apr19b

...and yet I do.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXVII)


Don't tell me that it's April Fools, the pale
Eye of these region clouds as mockry thence
Upon my first thoughts, passing through, a sense
Of morning's pure hopes on my tongue to scale,
Where I caught sight of, likeas to avail,
Dawn's fragile blushes like a maiden's, whence
I rolled this line across my tongue fr'intents:
"Ere dawn, whenas pink skirts the West--" for bail.
To top it off..."he's" on the job, and fer
All that my heart swears that he likes me too.
Go laugh at me and cite off what day'd stir--
Sich lofty visions; yet please hear me to
Effect, O LORD.  Have mercy on me, poor
Though aught 'scuse, and say that he likes me's...true?

01Apr19a

Hopefully if you're unfamiliar with that song google will comply and locate it for you.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXVI)


Blue skies out West look deeper in a sense
Than Illinois e'er knows, clouds in betrayl
'Non floating laz'ly in such vast seas they'll
Assure ye rare pools know, til I from thence
Half ache to be in those dear prairies hence
As childhood fondly knew, swept to avail
Clean of these houses clustered sans aught bail,
And where the Thunderbirds roar through fr'intents.
I said I'd join the Air Force, but Dad fer
All that said: No.  And that is better too.
Yet oh! the Rocky Mountains!  O those pure,
Unfathomed bluest skies!  What is't that'd woo
Me from their depths?  I feel it 'non bestir
My soul, just watching from afar.  And you?

31Mar19d

Ahem.  Rolling the first words of this sonnet over and over my tongue late Saturday afternoon--here it is finally



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXV)


Trash sidles 'long the weedy curb's detail,
To waltz out 'pon the blacktop, turning thence
And flipping oer to trip back for a sense
Of sheer caprice, and gambols through the pale
Dead grass 'til coming to a halt t'avail
My observation of likewise fr'intents
Some vague finale is't?  Were dinner hence
Not keen on my attention, I'd have bail.
Yet come, are not we like this trash in tour?
So lifeless as the dead leaves Scripture to
Effect declares we are, forsooth.  Winds stir
Our hapless selves akin to our vast crew
Of, lo: iniquities; to take us fer
All that far from Thee, LORD.  O what's to do?

31Mar19c  
"Seek the Lord, and his strength: seek his face evermore." (Ps 105:4)

...and know that I am God."  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXIV)


Some dog barks from the clustered houses' sense
Of sheer commun'ty, distant as th'all hail
As twere of sparrows and the Cardnal.  Pale
Warmth is a tender kiss we feel from hence
While frore winds drive last Fall's leaves sans suspense
Across the naked blacktop.  Donne's poems they'll
Assure us are good reading lies t'avail
Next me upon the stoop, and whither thence?
Hark! as the dove's soft coo wafts 'non in tour
Likeas a note from yonder.  Say we knew,
Yet would not dare acknowledge aught that'd stir
Except by halves, blind, deaf, and sorry to
A fault cuz we'd not praise Thee, LORD, in tour
Was it?  Nor give Thee thanks.  How firs call too.

31Mar19b