...until Saturday morning. [Up at midnight November 1st for work, and not able to go to sleep until nearly 2100, having titled October 29th's sonnet "I've Lost Track Which Day Tis" who's surprised?]


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMLI)


November first is up to specs, t'avail,
Chill as we knew it best like Winter's sense
Delivers, golden light where naked, dense
Bare trees stand in blue heavn's eye, wrappers trail
Left on the floor like last night's féte' detail
Was as expected, and the thought fr'intents
Of yonder is ham, turkey, gifts pretense
Tricks out in style, and thinking you own bail.
Oh, tis a Friday too, where I've as t'were
Been granted so much to thank Thee for through
These hours, how could I fail to see, in poor
'Scuse? Robert visits and hangs out like to
Rekindle what once flourished, and leaves fer
All that as if he owns me...is that true?!

01Nov24b

Starbucks latest stardash for yours truly, beginning of supposed summer [however summer began May 1st], demanding I make a purchase BEFORE 11AM, when my café wasn't open until 5am and I needed to be half an hour away on the clock by 5am, forced me to head in even earlier, stopping at a café by work which had only just opened for the day at 4:30am, and when I ordered an espresso, they said they'd accidentally prepared eggbites--did I want those for free with my espresso? What a treat!



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCLVII)

Mist's hazy essence likeas ghosts whose pale
Forms hulk and hunker down like sent'nals thence
In silence watching aught which pass fr'intents,
Detail morn even yet, as if to scale
Half loth to vacate, ling'ring in the hale
Eye of a Friday heat upon the dense
Yet distant massy trees the valley's sense
Of hidden joys boasts, as birds sweetly hail.
The kale and 'shroom bites fragrant,want as t'were
Bread with th'espresso, or else cream t'undo
Its sharpness, and if romance flirts in tour
Within mists' note, shall I say that all woo?
My elbows swelled as if that's normal, stir
Thyself to save us, LORD, for we need You.

21.Jun.24b

Like Lot's wife, eh?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCXLIX)


How Samuel Daniels' lines come to from hence
The 'fore, though nary Delia shall avail
Aught suit or break a heart, just that detail:
"...Ne'er let the rising sun approve [fr'intents]
You liars--" as dreams waltz through my noggin, dense
With mair chagrin in tow than joy, their frail
Sweet promise I knew ere what shall 'non fail
Before the light, although they dance. Ah, whence?
Dear youth so subtly fled! Though I bestir
Fond mem'ries of my father's house and rue
The loss of all we'd cherished, known and were
A part of then, I can't return. I threw
The pieces off, saying I'd come back. T'was poor.
All's lost. There's naught left. LORD, what did I do?!

14.Jun.24b

Swooning over a very pretty number in Palgrave's Golden Treasury, I Googled it, to find to my chagrin it was supposedly pure fiction. [I think not, but.] Ergo, I began, but since mine are never fiction, this is neither. Begun in dialect, that effect deteriorates midway since the initial drive did likewise.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMXLIX)


Say Jenny, she ne'er married aught, and whence?
Fine fellows came a' courting. She'd avail
Hersel' of mair than ane or twa, 'cept he *** fail
To tie the knot and she *** feign frae thence
Twas a' fer guid, as if thar was defense.
But thar was nane.  Or p'raps thar was. Detail
How minny girls ha' suffered in the frail
Hope of a happy life, and she's spared hence.
The man who played her fer a fool in tour
She blindly loved, as minny wimin do,
He courting others 'neath her nose in puir
Reply, then telling her long after. Who
Kin blame puir Jenny she ne'er married? Stir
Her sisters now to envy or tears too?

20.May24b/31.Oct.24
Note: a stab at writing for art's sake alone.

Don't ask me now cuz I don't know.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCDLXXXI)


Which day would ye have back? What years t'avail,
That ye pine so?  What have ye here fr'intents,
Or whither do ye go that we from hence
Are scrambling all the time? Come, which detail?
I have since lo, my youth, been in this (frail
Though aught 'scuse) race to yonder with a sense
Of where I'm headed and some goal, whilst thence
Bedazzled and deceived til now all fail.
Was I too picky with my men? Why were
There none to take me for his wife or woo
And give me his dear ***** for in tour
Repose? I ne'er could have a child, then. Rue
My folly, yet remain confused? Bestir
Me to redeem the time, but LORD, where to?

12.Sep.23c

We shan't indulge in the collection which puts the thought to shame.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCC)


You envied what? His paper cup's detail?
The plastic straw which shreds itself ere thence
You've even had a sip? Or what is't hence?
Sketch nothing cuz you won't draw, just to scale,
This world Bill Peet deplored thus? Yet the tale
Of naked buildings 'cross the fields pretense
Threw up to grand effect are what fr'intents
'Non haunt yer dreams likeas they would avail.
Or is the "lukewarm nightmare" all as t'were
That's left if you would trick out visions to
Beguile the fleeting moments none bestir?
Or join the traffic on its way, where through
What means you half yearn for those hours in tour
Which terr'fied was't? No. That vain hope I knew.

01/17.Jan.23a

...routine will **** me yet?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXLIII)


If twas some lurid rite of passage, whence?
Gulp scalding water down cuz naught'd avail:
I'm driving, nor can spit aught out. Derail
Hopes of a lovely ev'ning cuz what hence?
Being brave jist does not cut it. I'm burned, sense
Now screaming in me til I canna fail
To hear that I'm on fire inside. Detail
Which, after that? I'm tamer--is't defense?
If being above ground is a joke as t'were,
Tis ***** and too cruel to torture through
My waning hours what's left of all in tour
I thought t'enjoy, or vainly thought I knew.
Mum held her tongue, yet warned me. Dad too. Stir
Hope in but Thee alone, LORD: I need You.

27Oct24b