He's my peer, too sigh



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXXV)


Of handsome men whose cars have died sans bail,
Let us now not enquire; the naughty sense
We'd flirt leave quite asleep, for's sans defense.
Swear I am old and blind nor could avail
Me, if I even had a chance. Detail
What, after that? I'm only fifty, whence
No chances could exist; tis cruel pretense
To cast one's eyes upon fair beauty's trail.
Besides, imagine if you were his: stir
Hope when he's driving that?! Don't ask me to
Be sens'ble in the face of that.  Tis poor
To mention aught for hope's not here.  Pass through;
Let him be friendly, and dream as it were
Of life without.  Redeem me, LORD, won't You?

12Jan25b

...today.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXXIV)


Fat snowflakes justle with wee ones as hence
Keen silence bathes the whitened 'scapes t'avail,
Where Sunday seems as calm as should be, frail
Though being called in to serve ere I've but thence
Slept forty winks; to mob'lize, where fr'intents
Yer not awake, as Barry's steeps, sans bail,
Yet how I try. How did my cuppa fail
To cool?! Or wherefore is't sae hot from hence?
Watch steam in sheer ascent likeas in tour
Erst wont, yet oh! the tendrils' dance I knew
Ere seems t'escape mine pressured sense, as t'were
Too fraught is't? Somehow all planned 'fore comes to
Fruition, 'spite the madd'ning thought. Bestir
Our tongues to sing Thy praise, LORD, all of You.

12Jan25a

M'hm.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXXIII)


Night sifts through sans aught fanfare til the frail
Light yields to gloaming, where I'm busied thence
In shuffling site to site, with no time hence
To spare, for all I'm scheduled, maps sans bail
Confusing me til I am late; then which detail?
How Cynth'ya calls when I can't pick up, whence
Spin off the weary hours in sweet talk, sense
Half unaware time's passing, like'd avail.
Oh! how Thy mercies, LORD, prevail in tour,
For I could not have done aught sans Thee, Who
Has kept and keeps us ever. Back home, stir
Hot cocoa up for our dessert, cuz betime to
Effect seems better with warm milk as t'were,
And let us praise Thee 'lone, oh LORD, as due.

11Jan25b

...now.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXXII)


Mum's birthday: white snow blankets all in dense
Naught so pure, what's left but to rest, inhale,
The list'ning silence' calm likeas t'avail,
Whilst elsewhere, how folk race through with a sense
Of sheer importance; crows now mock fr'intents
The folly of our ways, til which detail
Shall do within the face of that? We fail,
Yet hurry forward, chasing sheer pretense.
Bored, watch the shows I 'void to see as t'were
What allus happens on the highway do
Its worst, as all I know plays out in tour
And I've a crush on whom most fools hate, to
Effect, though he'll ne'er know.  Oh LORD, bestir
Thyself and save us now. We wait for You.

11Jan25a

[having just watched a "crime" video where a foolish driver threw a drink at a former military man and lost her life in the next instant thanks to basic training, guess what happened to me?!]Now I've actually had a drink thrown at MY head while driving. What gives?!



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXXI)


How Joe Hisaishi's strains waltz like t'avail
Now through mine head, yet which? "My Neighbor [thence
Erm]Tot'ro" ist? Because they played that, whence?
Oh, Thursday.  Cheerful notes dance gaily, hale
In sweetness 'spite the TV, that detail
We cherish like a private joy which'd hence
Enlighten duller moments by its sense,
If only we'd hear Thy voice, Who'd ne'er fail.
Put on the Scriptures in my pocket fer
Recure, as how the final hour the teasing crew
Half seem to have a problem. I'll as t'were
Escape whileas they mull just what to do,
If Thou will, LORD, yet oh! how troubles* stir
For me once back in town. Save me, won't You?

10Jan25b

Yep, I'm pretty certain that's what it is.



(sonnet # MMMMMMMMMLXXX)


Snow, likeas Winter knows to dish out, whence
With dread go forth, Thy mercies all t'avail
I know, the "white stuff" crunching subtly, trail
With ice below, and that keen silence hence,
We are alone, yet not, the lonely path fr'intents
By fellow trav'lers littered, aught detail
Lost to this purest white, afraid t'inhale,
Yet trusting in Thee, LORD, all our defense.
The hol'days oer til next month, eggnog's tour
Long since, unless I craft some, what's to do?
Where movies used to trick the hours as twere
Out of their substance, hanging out anew
Is nicer. I post, nap, or work. Bestir
Us to sing Thy praise, LORD, as we wait You.

10Jan25a

Ah, wouldn't that be nice, though?



(sonnet # MMMMMMMMMLXXIX)


Sweet golden eye of afternoon, t'avail
Calm as the fevered soul desired, suspense
On edge and chewing off its nails whilst sense
Feigns tis mature, if only I could bail
Me out of all here in that light's detail,
Forget aught else which nags, and rest from hence,
Half lost in dreams where rolling lawns lie thence
In peaceful slumber, frozen, hill and dale.
Could I, for half a minute, lose as twere
What is, and wander, traipsing merr'ly through
Lost pastures, I'd still be dumped back in tour
Where I had been.  These freighted heavns' vague blue
With clouded eye yet wash the land, astir
Elsewhere, with golden light.  That we'd seek You.

09Jan25