...in my twenties and thirties


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCLVIII)


Oh sweet, drear Autumn hours! Mine cherished, dense
And moody blue racks yielding dim light's trail
To sheer foreboding, how I wish t'avail
Me of my youth! My father's house fr'intents
So free, I pranced through Fall with aught defense
In tow, likeas a princess, that detail
Of long plaid skirts wherein to traipse my bail;
How I do miss those years and sweet pretense!
What have I now? Like some cadaver, poor
As smiles and compliments, I wander through
These wastes of time a pris'ner waiting fer
My ticket to beyond. I've naught left to
Retain me here, and envy whom as twere
Leave ere I kin. Oh LORD, when? I wait You.

23Sep25

Like, huh?!


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCLVII)


So I'm, oh nevermind, just what sans bail
I ever was, the ep'thet of good sense:
"Not good enough," regardless all pretense,
Still mine to own despite my efforts. They'll
Laugh in my face and pat my head to scale,
So full of it they never think but thence
I must be likewise, when I'm not. Come hence.
Let me go lose myself in woods t'avail.
I'll listen to the crew of fallen stir
Beneath my footsteps, looking up unto
Deep blue skies twixt the naked branches, fer
A vision of beyond. The turmoil through
Their madness let me now forget as twere.
Oh LORD, restore my soul. I wait for You.

23Sep25a

...just not AT me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCLIV)


Dad never owned a Starbucks cup, and thence
We'd only visit on occasion, frail
As my outrageous cup collection's trail
To more absurd things, other cust'mers hence
Half like him sans collections, like's good sense?
What were the point of stars? free food t'avail
And drink? I never thought that wise as bail,
Since cups shall last where food does not. Yet whence?
I can't resell last year's cups, nor in tour
Aught older ones. Or can I? Fun to do
Sans plans for mair than now, collecting's poor
If you've no end in sight. If I half rue
The game, what's left? Back then twas fun. Bestir
Sense now, and whither? LORD I wait for You.

21Sep25b

[Sir Walter Scott would rather say, "...gentle reader,"]



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCL)


Lo, stacks of frozen pizzas all from thence
Reduced, like "jackpot!" where tomorrow'd hail
As Nash'nal Pepperoni Pizza Day, t'avail
Take three; grab heads of lettuce for intents
Marked down, for salads, chopped kits mine for sense,
And buttermilk too, til I'll dream, sans bail?
Of sausage gravy with lo, biscuits; trail
That 'long and muse on breakfast. Is't pretense?
Today I crashed once home and slept was't fer
Three hours? afore the kittens left me too
Yes, many hints they should be fed. Drag poor
Me up, and french toast, bacon, honeydew
Our fare, let's finish that flick we'd bestir
On Wednesday ere I leave for work anew.

19Sep25b

Eh?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXLIX)


September's winding down as if sans bail
Oernight, grass too fatigued, half dead since thence
When, eh?! And oh! the trees...leaves, yellowed hence,
Look sere before I realized that detail
Was fading. Where have I been, that t'avail
Me is a tardy notion sans defense?!
Why does October bark now at fr'intents
My heels?! I thought I was aware. I fail?!
This is exactly what I feared. Is't poor
I'm taen aback, and reeling at the view
Which swears the party shall be oer in tour
Before I'd used aught favours? Come, where to?
How ransom what time's left though all bestir
In tying up what we knew? LORD, I need You.

19Sep25a

Beats me.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXLIII)


The kittens thought I should rise sooner, frail
As after nine on nary weekend, whence
I gave them cream. No Barry's 'cept what thence
Is mixt with lemon and is poor man's tale
Of tea, so I'll try coffee to avail,
And almost think it works. There's no defense.
How day is chasing noon ere I've served hence
Our breakfast, which I can't quite...which detail?
The sound of happy lapping cream in tour
Explains why there's none left in my bowl to
Assist the sugared blueb'rries, as the poor
Thought of nigh ev'ning begs I finish. Do
The math, and figure all makes sense. Bestir
In me to sing Thy praise, LORD, all of You.

16Sep25a

Haha on me.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXLI)


The year is wending out, and how I fail
As wont at noting every last joy, whence
How shall I ransom what remains ere thence
Tis Jan'ry once again? The leaves sans bail
Are dropping, and in piles, whilst I avail
Me of the sights, as red late winks, suspense
Too sneaky and 'neath wraps still where pretense
Swears this shall never end, 'spite aught detail.
I drive past yellow sans a notice, poor
Though being sae blind, these hours with warmth t'undo
The thought of woolen plaids, I lapse as twere
And don my Summer clothes as freighted blue
Skies 'scape my glance, shorts all 'round. Oh bestir
Me now, and LORD, please make me ready too.

15Sep25c

Does it?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXXXIX)


What of the newest catnip mouse whose tail
And ears are pink? Oh, I watch Tigger thence
Most caref'lly wash the thing and trot off hence,
As if she's done her job.  Then which detail?
How Peter means to be unseen sans bail,
Whilst Tigger trots about, meows fr'intents,
To play our only cat as if's good sense.
Dear me! Where is that feature, to avail?
What is September that I struggle fer
A bit of firm ground for my feet? Where to?
Cicadas buzz, and school picks up in tour
Its pace; this merry-go-round that we knew
Since those days only lets off whom bestir
Their ticket for beyond. LORD, we wait You.

15Sep25a

Okay?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXXXII)


September's slipping through my fingers hence
As erst wont, heat upon the rise sans bail,
Fall's early crew of altered leaves a trail
To yonder, on the ground. The vain pretense
T'will never end, or else in sheer defense
Shall be here so much longer we'll avail
Ourselves in plenty time at leisure, frail,
Nor but the usual ruse for all intents.
I know because it's haunting me as twere,
Now tugging on my sleeve to swear I knew
Before twas ended. Guess I do, this tour
Of green'ry sifting through the hours nigh through,
Til noticing is hardly 'nough, and poor.
Oh LORD, our time's in Thy hands; we wait You.

11Sep25c

...don'tcha know?


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXXIX)


I prayed for hours; then made my plans t'avail
Us of a party, that late crashed ere thence
It got in full swing, where I'm struggling hence
With facing yes, the loss of that detail,
As if this mercy granted's poor? Bewail
Sans aught recure as if twas mere pretense
To ask for hours, or what? The cost of whence
Is mair than I had bargained, in betrayl.
Behold the fields in early Autumn fer
A spell, and learn to be half thankful? Blue
Skies melting in the romance of as twere
Day's end, come, had we been lost watching through
These hours the flicks I'd wanted I'd missed pure
Sweet vistas that I cherish. I thank You.

10Sep25c

They are.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXXV)


How Tigger'd chase a fat house fly sans bail
All oer, the rascal taunting her til thence
Did she give up? Wherefore does it from hence
Dare bother me?! Tis downright stupid. Frail
As all the madness, swipe at it t'avail
With just a sopping dishrag, and fr'intents
Presto! Dead in a trice. Oh dear good sense,
What's this we now behold? Why that detail?
And Tigger does not care two bits; in her
Eyes that ole ****** is no more cuz through
Its machinations it's gone silent. Stir
Lost sights of yellow, sticky tongues we knew
As "Fly [erm] Paper," and what's this as twere?
Oh LORD, am I the stupid one? Where to?

08Sep25c

Yes?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXXIV)


Seems ice cream would be grand, a cake from hence
Thick frosted too, my breakfast lying sans bail
Neglected, eggs and bacon, hoummus stale,
Where how the cats are napping in defense.
Did movies leave me dull? My porridge' sense
Of good food quite dispensed with, how avail
Me now? Lo, cheese and pasta haunted frail
Hopes ere: are noodles fuel for ole pretense?
Velveeta winks at me, the noodles fer
'Loved mac and cheese 'longside. Talk of this cue
With Cynthya til mere talk'd suffice. We were
Not set on any choice. Roast beef might woo
'Cept I am on the fence. While she'd bestir
Lo, tater tots, LORD, what shall we 'non do?

09Sep25b

...kinda scary.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXI)


Espresso's grand for shelving that detail
Known as fatigue, my mind without defense,
And by late morn, here, and in fragments, whence
Forget how to do aught, by half, as I fail.
Crawl home and call today done, left sans bail
Work oernight in tow. Oh sweet pretense!
Catnap how many hours? and oh! They thence
Are clam'ring for canned food til what'd avail?
It is so cold! Oh goodee!! Now in tour
To use the oven 'gain! The fish sticks too
Long tugging at my sleeve at last ours fer
Late lunch, sans tarter sauce, I guess we'll do
Aeoli. Fall asleep ere that, bestir
Me just for work. LORD, thank you. I wait You.

04Sep25b

I swear these were supposed to be mere toys, but...the real one is downright coldly DEAD. Oddly the carpet's red matched the mouse's ****** entrails. its white matching the carpet's, until seeing the thing wasn't that simple, kick me.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCX)


What's with the world?! Why's traffic heavy? Whence?
Back fin'lly, I've ne cup as twere t'avail
For this espresso, use a mug's detail,
Hit up Panera. Once home, drink fr'intents
Th'espresso and...how I'm not sleepy hence!
Craft porridge, clean and showr, the freighted trail
To breakfast more than I'd envisioned, frail
As what? He's taming Peter, and what thence?
So I have "busy" carpets. They have fer
Their fun grey catnip mice. Guess what?! The two
Both caught and killed a live mouse, left in tour
Right by where I sit for a cuppa, to
Be certain very cold, dead, ******. Were
There else, LORD, how I thank and wait on You.

04Sep25a

I do.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCVII)


Tis raining lightly like romance t'avail
Is in the air as calm owns this suspense,
Or so it seems, aught safe indoors from hence
'Cept who must travel, "sleeping weather" hale
In tender solace, Autumn's sweet detail
With red leaves winking midst the green for sense,
A haunting note of yellow half fr'intents
In tow, and how I revel 'long the trail.
Guess I will never think straight, is't sae poor?
Come, wherefore try to hold my purse anew
Oer lo, a tall drink?! Spill all too, in tour.
And now my car is full of drink. I rue
My folly, sans a reason for't. Bestir
Thyself and save me, LORD, for I need You.

03Sep25b

You know?!

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCII)


So, join A.A. if you are lonely, hence
Thought one of them cuz they're sans much detail
Notorious for being "in denial." Hail
Such friends who feel your pain; find romance thence
And marriage too, cuz that's the way fr'intents.
The best part is the jobs each held t'avail,
Or still hold down, I guess, or how guns trail
Them cuz they feel depressed and sans defense.
We'll watch that movie, nary more, is't poor?
Have pizza from six days ere cuz I do
Not throw food 'way and it was left in tour
For but the trash. That's fitting, no? I'm too
Shot from NO sleep, so all is good. Bestir
Thyself and save us, LORD, we wait for You.

01Sep25d

...what's new?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXCIX)


Mists hover in the valleys, white and frail,
Like spirits haunting whither, reaching thence
Across the borders for aught passing, dense
Yet thin and likeas thick arms groping. They'll
Half leer at me who's looking 'long the trail
And keen on just the sight, their presence hence
A dream of romance flirting like pretense,
Where I would lose me in't, if t'would avail.
The freeway sans much traffic, I'm in tour
Back ere tis sevn, September first as due
A hol'day. Nary school bus nor as twere
Aught else except a few like me, the view
Is calm in sheer suspense, where to bestir
Would really seem a crime. LORD, I wait You.

01Sep25a

It's so fun to have cats eating out of your hand.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXCII)


Wash up their bowls, refill, and then, defense:
Put on the kettle for yes, Barry's. (Hail
My lack of sense in crafting that.) Detail
It with a wedge of brie which they share hence.
Yes, Tigger's post is in my lap fr'intents,
And Peter's on the floor; she hooks sans bail
My hand whenas she wants a bite t'avail,
Til he gives up, to wander off from thence.
The "kitty kurls" toy they've worn out in tour,
And she thinks that the ball is hers. I do
Not quite agree, and after letting her
Extract it three times, I hide it. Where to?
She's moping since. Yes, hiding off in poor
'Scuse til, what shall I do? LORD, I need You.

29Aug25d

We are.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXC)


Rye toast, eggs, bacon, naught else for intents
Save guac for me, and raspb'rry jam t'avail
Him, breakfast fairly light, it's that detail
Of bacon and the cats which begs defense,
Since they did steal his brie(where I'd sans sense
Left it out with his cuppa tea sans bail
To showr) and he was not too happy, they'll
Be scanted as I covered his food. Whence?
They won't touch mine. So he must as it were
Give me dear Peter's sob tale til I rue
What? Eat but half my bacon, then give her
None, just to Peter. He then gives his too,
And gives his other slice to Tigger. Poor
As nary bacon, LORD, how I thank You.

29Aug25b

Heheh.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXXXIX)


Off late in lieu of early, which detail
Next? Three lanes of traffic northbound halted thence
And creeping 'long for...what?! a spun car hence
Not north but southbound, two state troopers' scale
Of sheer protection and two cones avail
Whom? Just as dawn breaks. So much for suspense.
I'm back home late, as if there's no defense,
The cats quite glad to see me in betrayl.
How they bounce wildly, off the walls in tour,
Yes, knocking stuff down like's okay to do.
He even jumps at lo, the wall, in poor
'Scuse crashing down into their food bowl, to
With Tigger, look at the huge mess he'd stir
Thereby, as LORD, Thy mercies new, where, too?

29Aug25a

...how long until he relaxes again?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXXXIV)


They took her collar off, were skittish thence
Because they knew twas naughty, that detail
What both had worn on none because I'd fail
To make it small enough. They slid it hence
Off thus; left on the bedroom floor, their sense
Of naughtiness keen, I teased them t'avail
Cuz I was not about to let the trail
Stay hot since they need that likeas defense.
Or so I thought. Let them relax in tour
Lest they resist, and when the naughty two
Are sleeping, talk of how with him. Is't poor?
I had to do hers first. He cornered too
Dear Peter, who hissed at me and as twere
Now runs from me. Oh LORD, what should I do?

27Aug25c

Ahem.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXXXIIII)


The game of yes, pipe cleaners, raised sans bail
Its stakes, for I am not allowed aught hence,
All are the cats to dance oer, leaving thence
Their toys wherever. Hide mine here t'avail
Or there, how Tigger'd query, that detail
No safety as she hunts and filches, sense
Keen on all I have, til where is defense?
I've givn them now a couple, but all'd fail.
Is it a game of hide-and-seek as twere?
Oh me! Mine used to sit out in plain view
Where I could grab and use it sans in tour
A second thought; no nowhere's safe. The two
Have put dibs on ALL sets of that til's poor
Now to resist? Oh LORD, how we wait You.

27Aug25b

--scratch that, my cat woke up.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXXXI)


Where shadows come and go, ah, which detail?
I'm watching Autumn in its paces hence,
Yet like each year, I cannot paint fr'intents
The view, cuz tis so subtle. Skies t'avail
With gilded cloud battalions, blue seas they'll
Own whileas grey sweeps 'cross in sheer suspense,
How leaves are changing sans as twere from thence
Aught fanfare, cuz it is still early. Bail?
And Tigger's sleeping in my lap, the cure
For all my running 'bout since that won't do
Cuz now I'm grounded. T-mobile's freebie fer
This week a logo'd stadium bag, clear too,
I'll cheer on whom? Is Robert coming? Stir
Me when he does? Oh LORD, I wait for You.

26Aug25c

[pipe cleaners in rainbow colours]

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXXVII)


Pipe cleaners had a purpose, straws' detail
Left sans recure without. But cat toys thence?
How Tigger comes to watch me wash fr'intents
The dishes; all was cool til she'd t'avail
Espy the cluster on the ledge, her trail
To happy minutes; leaving off pretense,
She picks her way through plates just rinsed to whence,
That tool for cleaning now a toy, and bail.
Last I saw, twas a spider. Straight'ning her
Wreck, I return it, to watch Peter too
Enjoy what never had so much use fer
'Scuse til redeemed by cats. Ah me, who knew?
Were we likewise worth nothing as it were
Until the potter, LORD, was only You?

26Aug25a

Prolly wouldn't have gone off half as well.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXXIV)


Whilst steam wafts up in dainty tendrils' sense
Of romance, brie with del'cate mould's detail
Upon my tongue, where Peter's on the trail
Of Tigger and she's dancing oer mice, whence?
The squirrel comes by to look, and they from hence
Are keen on him, or whom? Chill winds' exhale
Sifts through like solace, where calm seems t'avail
Despite their wild play cuz I'm home fr'intents.
Debate what I shall serve for breakfast, poor
As such sheer wastes of time, and brunch will do,
I guess. Swiss cheese and scallions mixt in tour
With scrambled eggs, Canad'an bacon too,
And porridge, noshed on whilst they sleep. Bestir
Fresh air with gratitude. LORD, I thank You.

25Aug25a

...on love and romance.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLII)


Frogs chorus in the darkness sweetest scents
Waft through as if romance owns aught detail
Now tis May first, oh me! Just to inhale
Is to cull swooning til I've no defense
Where night'd intox'cate in a trice, good sense
As wont in lover's trysts quite perished, frail
Though aught 'scuse when you've nary hope t'avail
Upon the clock--is't lilacs?! or what hence?
Eat salad after hours, "spring mix" as t'were
With olives, shrooms, tomatoes, onions, to
Effect a treat, potato chips to cure
Aught cravings, what I want is to yield 'new
Where romance tugs upon my sleeve: is't poor?
Were not sweet odours meant to thereby woo?

01May25b

...who coulda guessed?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLI)


Quip "Happy May day!" to learn that detail
Of ribbons and a party 'round fr'intents
The maypole will not do e'en in pretense,
Cuz he was born in June.  Like to avail
Us of sich joys...?! or was there more in frail
Excuse that I'd miss where he'd answer thence
So oddly? Shall we ever meet 'gain? whence
Shelve this til later, and then whither's bail?
Rain falls in torrents like the storm in tour
Would shut aught down, yet nothing flickers through
Its rampage. Drive home as it lingers, stir
Both cleaning and our breakfast til maunt do
And I yield up to napping; maint'nence cure
All problems til what's left is to seek You.

01May25a

...I'm all mixt up, am I?!



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCXXXI)


Sweet blue skies with soft gilded clouds t'avail,
Red Maples' baby leaves now flutter hence
So lightly, and how dandelions thence
With sunny yellow heads dot green lawns' trail
To yonder as songs flit and call like bail
From every bush, tree, covert, nook, a sense
Of all we cherished in that note, no scents
Of pine, fresh grass nor clover to inhale.
But how the lake now ripples as winds stir
Across its face, the sparrows gaily too
'Non calling as geese rest. If plovers cure
Night's blackness, how frogs chorus through
The welcome touch of chill. And Shakespeare, poor
As subterfuge, remains cloaked. What is new?

23Apr25e

...neither of us.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCXXX)


She calls to tell me of the wondrous scents
Now wafting in from her oped windows hale
In clover and fresh grass, whose sweet detail
Is not, she sez, though that can't be pretense;
And I am glad for her. Wisconsin dense
In such is far too perfect. I'd avail
Me but I am in Lincoln's Land sans bail,
And country living hers, I've no defense.
Best friends now from a distance, what is poor
Is we can't hang out anymore. We knew
Such parties in the day, shared dishes fer
The fun of it, went groc'ry shopping too,
Together, and now only have as t'were
Our phones. Thou gav'st all, LORD, and we wait You.

23Apr25d

Ah, dearest Will, you win, hands down.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCXXIX)


Dear William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, they'll
Not know you as you are. Tis as fr'intents
You wanted; oer four hundred years quite dense
With progress have erased you; that detail
Used then to masque is all they know t'avail
Them of as, "in black ink [my]Love-" fr'intents
Not thee, "may still shine bright." Tis called pretense
Whenas I try t'acknowledge thee. I've no bail?
The "gordian knot" who set in place to stir
That world back then has worked so well, what's true
Is not known now. As for thy Love, in poor
Reply what Francis Meres knew shall not do,
You are a pervert now. Your love in tour
"May still shine bright," yet your Love is just who?

23Apr25c

Hmm.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCXXVIII)


Tis Shakespeare's birthday, and his sonnets' sense
Of who he was, with notes of that detail,
Preserved "in black ink" like he knew'd avail,
Yet nary read by most, still face fr'intents
School children who would rather find defense
In play, but where I've learned much, likeas bail,
Including when the seasons are, in frail
Excuse for what we're taught, til what's pretense?
I wonder. For he clearly knew as t'were
What is, and what shall be. Or did he through
Whatever means but know the half in tour?
That this earth is reserved for fire how few
Know even now? What good is black ink? We're
Not going to read aught then. LORD, we wait You.

23Apr25b

...as does 1580.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCXXVII)


Rain falls likeas a nursemaid's calm voice hale
In tender solace, where the light from hence
Has not resolved itself, and night seems thence
Reluctant to depart, the soothing scale
Of sheer relief what children gladly hail
When fevered as myself, for tis defense,
The soul aware within that note of whence
Being still hid by sheer mists, but what'd avail.
Late morning, how the dove calls from as t'were
Near yet half distant, sparrows, and geese too
'Non chatt'ring as the feast called breakfast's tour
Waits for indulgence, eggs, tomato to
Grapes, bacon, cottage cheese, banana fer
All that and brie with apple asking who?

23Apr25a

...don't look at me.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCXIII)


Too many years ago the talk to scale
Of "cell phones" owned but Blackb'rrys for intents,
And was a dream of yonder not all thence
Could realize, where the "cold war" swore the trail
To any future would be sans aught bail
'Cept freedom was derailed, the "commies" hence
Keen spies who'd access to our land lines, whence
The talk was of which speeches to avail?
They killed off Kenn'dy cuz he swore in tour
To tell us all, yea, ****** McCarthy too.
But that was 'fore my time. Now all that's poor,
I'll post online, to find me barred sans cue
Cuz wherefore, eh? Go "clear yer cache"?! We were
Such fools to cast off fears. LORD, I'll wait You.

15Mar25c

...as Thousand Island or even Russian Dressing.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCXI)


LIfe IS uncertain: eat dessert first'd hail
In fact where we've too little milk fr'intents,
And I am working in the kitchen. Whence,
A bit of milk he murmurs after (frail
As all excuses) is nigh bad, t'avail
Us two of Oreos, where Reubens hence
Are on the docket, nearly crafted thence,
Cuz I'll be busy on the clock sans bail.
My fingers burned from this grand project's tour
Of duty, turns out lo, yer parents knew
Jist how to make all things, and you in poor
'Scuse never kin match up. All that I do
Does not taste half as good as theirs. What were
We 'sposed to do in their shoes? Wait on You.

15Mar25a

...know: t'was from You.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCX)


How lo, a black-capped chick'-dee's call frae thence
(Sweet mem'ries) lilts as I walk down the trail
In foreign wastes where such joys rarely hail,
Aye haunts the twa blocks to my car, a sense
Of former games in tow, likeas defense,
Til I recall years 'go when t'would avail
My soul sae close at hand, where that detail
Of apricot trees and home were all. Whence?
Forsooth.  I swear I saw him day 'fore, were
They nigh likeas the sparrows, sitting, too,
In silence in the naked bush in tour
Outside my bedroom window. If that's true,
What should I know, oh LORD? The mem'ry'd stir
But I can't find that diary page. Where to???

14Mar25c

...meaning, when I'm half asleep I'm significantly tamer--but that's why you men forever tire women out anyway.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCIX)


The wafting scents of chicken 'long the trail,
Where I'm too sleepy yet, conspire from thence
To turn my stomach as I hasten hence
To work oernight, ne hunger 'longside, frail
As all the others eager to avail
Themselves of food or action, Friday's sense
Alive elsewhere than in my car fr'intents.
Besides, I've packed a lunch, should I want bail.
Three lanes of heavy traffic wane as t'were,
Their foolish sense of was't street racing? too
Much for this time, where's not my style in tour.
They pull 'longside and match my speed, then do
Not but fall back. My uniform? Is't poor
I'm thankful?LORD, be Thou my refuge: You.

14Mar25b

...yet wherefore?!

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCVII)


Forget to watch the shadows as they trail
Across this sun-washed view, as if fr'intents
Too charmed with life, the page turned in a sense
Back,...or is't forward? Caught in which detail?
How can I know? Chagrined to find I fail
At all, or so it seems, resort to...whence?
Dost Thou, oh LORD, give me to see? For hence
Reminded oer and oer how I'd avail?!
I never was a grand soul, only her
Whom Thou wouldst ransom, all I have of You;
I'm but forgiv'n anon, and failing, poor
As all my protests and best efforts to
Be better than I am. Back here, bestir
In me to do Thy will, LORD, as I'd do.

13Mar25c
--By Dand

...like, what comes after this?!

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCVI)


How is't? But having mulled (was't vain pretense?)
Returning to these 'scapes, work drags me, frail
And full of silly old complaints, t'avail
Right back to my old stomping grounds for sense,
Famil'ar sights and streets, where aught from hence
Half whispers that I know it too well, trail
And all likeas mine own in each detail,
Til I begin to wonder why? and, whence?
Last night I toyed with stuff frae years 'go fer
A spell because I could not sleep. Now too,
I'm back right where I used to be as t'were,
And wond'ring what I'm s'posed to learn anew
Or realize? I half love it too. Is't poor?
Oh LORD, til all of Thine hand. I wait You.

13Mar25b

...silly me.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCV)


Oh sunny warmth, I'm thankful to avail
Me of these tender hours where sparrows thence
Tease, and now I recall how last night scents
From bar-b-que would haunt mine exit, trail
Along, til in the pre-dawn darkness, frail
As aught 'scuse, how sich odours tempt fr'intents
Til I am making arguments for sense
T'unravel, as his comment last week'd hail.
He wished repeatedly for bar-b-que in tour,
A grill left out last night from neighbors who
Could thus avail themselves. Forget in poor
Reply the pulled pork whiskey'd tinge, as through
Thy mercies, LORD, I'm giv'n more hours. Bestir
In me to sing Thy praise, all, all of You.

13Mar25a

I do.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCXIV)


Where dawn is not, for rain whose last detail
Is threat'ning snow, grind coffee like erst, whence
Fresh Thompson's Irish Tea in lo, what thence?:
A well-worn Barry's mug, and joe t'avail,
Both with a dash of half-n-half to scale,
How snow late fills the air with white for sense,
As forecast, and I dearly hope from hence
That March swears off such blankets and owns bail.
A blackbird wanders nigh til, how in tour
The plover cries. Geese next, he calls 'gain to
Distract me, and by afternoon tis pure
Spring wetness all 'round. Puddles blankly view
Whate'er is nigh and naught else seems astir.
I put the Scriptures on...LORD, save us too.

16Mar25a

...you know?


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCIV)


The card'nal's voice from naked trees I thence
Reply to in his style, like that detail
Of courtship is a game? How plovers hail
Now after dark, keen mem'ries of Mum hence
In tow, cuz that's when I saw them fr'intents,
On her last walk with me, like that t'avail
Is no more from lo, Col'rado, the trail
To yonder is't? within their call for sense?
As if they call unto my soul in tour,
Oh LORD, I hear, yet what's anon to do?
My brother texts 'bout tuna salad--her
Um rec'pe, and we realize thereby too
That she ne'er wrote it down. Remember fer
Him, and he says it sounds right, LORD, of You.

12Mar25c

Howdya like that?


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCIII)


In Elgin over twenty years to scale,
Yet not in Scotland, Illinois as thence
Where I was born, and now like for intents
I live in Bolingbrook, yet not t'avail
In Munster Ireland, but lo, that detail
Of Lincoln's Land, again. What is it hence?
My father's house is Gordon, thus for sense
By Dand in all, and in my blood, like bail.
Is't by mere chance I drink tea, Barry's fer
All that?! Grew up on porridge like twas due,
And bagpipe strains more rarely, was that poor?
The prairies in my youth where skies so blue
Were all we knew, and longhorn too, bestir
In us to seek Thy face, LORD, and wait You.

12Mar25b

After all, "on Wednesdays we wear--"


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCII)


Three lanes of heavy traffic, racing thence
Whenas a gap appears, get home t'avail
Ere dawn, and sleep twas hours likeas sheer bail
Upon the couch, to heat the hash fr'intents
With ham on top (yes, protein central hence!),
Fry eggs (one frozen!), and make porridge, frail
As aught 'scuse, AFTER Barry's with to scale
Some shortbread, thankful's easy, like defense.
I guess I slept off Wednesday as it were,
March tender warmth enough with softest blue
Heavns to keep our heat off; the lake winds stir
To gentle rippling ducks sail on, a crew
Of geese on guard upon the shore, demure?
Thy mercies new each morn, LORD, we thank You.

12Mar25a

...I've wanted to for 14 years now. My late father had an anecdote from his college days where his friend's mother called after them: "Eat your banana! It's good for your heart!" and you know about how "an apple a day keeps the doctor away!" right?


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCI)


Caprese with cherry 'matoes' sweet detail
Tops aught I've known before, as if from hence
Tis all I ever should use, eh? The sense
Of basil fresh thus matched like to avail,
What's left to add? Pom avrils for sheer bail
Now that is done, the cake is finished, whence?
There's mac-n-cheese, beef hot dawgs, and from thence
So much more, choc'late ice cream down the trail.
Charcut'rie boards I'll pack for third shift's tour,
(Go call me selfish will ye?!), ne ado
For that detail, bananas, apples fer
Our hearts and keeping doc at bay anew,
We've oranges, and the list goes on. Bestir
Friends online and but tease? LORD, we wait You.

11Mar25d

...you've gotta BE here.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCXV)


Let stormy blue racks hide the day to scale
Where naked trees lined up evince from hence
Vague hints of Spring, as if leaves shall fr'intents
Not be much longer, like chartreuse t'avail
Already murmurs of beyond, this frail
Calm plovers pierce with strangest wafting scents
Of melted butter just in tow for sense,
Like popcorn and a movie thought of bail?!
I was not here oernight, so maunt demur
Nor say if that e'en could occur, or's true.
Tomorrow is Saint Patrick's Day. We were
Most fond of corned beef with yes, cabbage too,
Yet rarely had such treats. With Reubens cure
For that, I'm only wishing I'd wait You.

16Mar25b

I do.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCXIV)


Where dawn is not, for rain whose last detail
Is threat'ning snow, grind coffee like erst, whence
Fresh Thompson's Irish Tea in lo, what thence?:
A well-worn Barry's mug, and joe t'avail,
Both with a dash of half-n-half to scale,
How snow late fills the air with white for sense,
As forecast, and I dearly hope from hence
That March swears off such blankets and owns bail.
A blackbird wanders nigh til, how in tour
The plover cries. Geese next, he calls 'gain to
Distract me, and by afternoon tis pure
Spring wetness all 'round. Puddles blankly view
Whate'er is nigh and naught else seems astir.
I put the Scriptures on...LORD, save us too.

16Mar25a

Ha, you weren't really wondering, now, were you?


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCLXXVIII)


A headache nags for lack of coffee hence,
Is that? Or fer the sun? My breakfast's tale
But finished by mere halves, nor lunch' detail
Worth aught til's done, how skies are blue, a sense
I canna pin down in that pure note, thence
Quite out of words cuz wherefore? Naught'd avail
Yet what else do I need 'cept sleep? Derail
That for my crazy schedule, and pretense.
Clouds which would sail like huge battalions through
These freighted seas are gone. The snow which'd tour
On schedule but a jest as March first to
Be certain is quite chilly yet as t'were
Not adding feathers to ole Winter. Stir
Hope in these warming hours, oh LORD, of You.

01Mar25a

I knew the actual recipe would be different when my first attempt used up cabbage gone south. What I forgot, until three days later, was that flavors need time to meld.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXCIX)


The twa big heads at least chopped up, t'avail
We've canteloupe and breakfast hash fr'intents;
With cabbage, sausage and potatoes, dense
With flavour, saurkraut would be better; frail
As making that first batch with old, t'was bail
For heightened tastes. How fix that, eh? save thence
Til's aged? the rest will rot. Alas. What hence?
Be teased to death cuz that's the best detail.
Online suggests lo: vin'gar, as in tour
He tells me 'gain how to craft saurkraut--do
That later, mebbe? Sparrows gaily stir
A happy sense where milder temps now woo,
Like Summer's not far off. Come, come, what were
We thinking? LORD, restore us: we wait You.

11Mar25b

Oh my, oh my.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXCIII)


Oh tender hours of waking hope! T'avail
Is like a breath of heart'ning air; suspense
Alive and dancing in the eye fr'intents
Of dearest Spring, whose golden glance' detail
Is fragile yet full with sheer hope, the pale
Light laden with that notice e'en from thence
As gloaming haunts this joyous day, like hence
It won't be long til life abounds, as't hail.
These naked woods own sapphire blue in tour
And I'm content to watch because all woo.
The forecast sez t'will freeze oernight in poor
'Scuse for late pleasures waltzing hope, yet to
Effect as Winter's wont, whose treach'rous tour
Warms but to freeze all puddles.  Say I knew.

17Jan25b

I can't believe it!



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXCII)


Spring's but twa weeks awa by now, a sense
Of sweeter haunting hill and snow-capped dale,
Favon'us breath upon the soft exhale
Which murmurs oer the leas, of hope, to fence
These coming hours with just enow fr'intents
To keep the fainting soul 'bove water, frail
Yet clinging still to life, if that t'avail
Before the shadows deepen, of defense.
Birds sing as if from ev'ry bush astir
With joy now waltzing, as both puddles to
Thinned snowy slopes seem half aware as twere
All's melting, where the fragile light would woo
With hope in ev'ry golden shaft. Demur
T'acknowledge and hide off--oh if ye knew!

17Jan25a