NOTE:  L4 and on was tricky since you can't very well dictate what the sonnet shall say, but I wanted to note that down for posterity.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXXXV)


Mists shroud the thought of yonder, ghostly, pale
White none pierce 'cept by halves, a keen suspense
In tow as traffic rushes on fr'intents
These rain-wet highways; one sports car'd derail
Ere we are out of town, left in betrayl
'Non facing all who'd been in his wake thence,
While box-trucks, dump trucks join the race from hence
As cars, vans, pick-ups and ourselves chase bail.
My niece declares she wants to touch as twere
Thet fragile thing called mists, whose haunting cue
Blots out all we'd known heretofore in tour.
Yet likeas spirits none can finger to
Aught satisfaction, we tell her "That's poor--"
And how our souls maunt see, LORD, 'til with You.

08Oct18a

No, we certainly shall not.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXVII)


O Wordsworth!  La, but how his spirit's hale
Pride sifts anon twixt every stanza, whence
My soul congeals, as left like bones from hence
To dry and bleach in heavn's bald eye; joys fail
Whileas he waxes eloquent, to hail
Aught note of twinkling life with that cold sense
Which calculates the breath out of all thence
Caught in his lines, til I can't breathe t'avail.
He takes up passion like's unknown as twere,
Despite the fact he is just that, yet to
A fault upon a bloodless scale, who'd stir
The whitened ashes of aught fire to do
It up as if's a specimen:  dead.  Poor
As all that, he extolled much...sans life's dew.

10Jul17a

Meow?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXII)


Come 'gain?! How Robert would surprise me, whence?
We hang out and he tells me in betrayl
Of his most recent girlfriend, whose detail
Yes, of divorce, at last comes out for sense;
And I'm disgusted with her rudeness, thence
To laugh, yet lo, remind him I'd ne'er hail
Him thus: she's like a Hallmark lover, frail
As lying and using him, like she'd defense.
Then off to bed with me cuz third shift's tour
Of duty needs more rest, so that will do.
He teases that he'll marry me, but's poor.
I know now we're just friends.  Naught else is true.
Did she know of me? YES. But, what? For her
He bent oer backwards. Not my style. None woo.

04Dec24b

...he asked to see this...like he so often does.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMCCCXIII)


O how mists clothe the valley like a veil
Which swallows aught in dawn's first light! trees hence
Peer vaguely through that ghostly whiteness, whence
My soul thrills to its haunting touch' detail
In waking; nary voice to stir, winds stale
As Maple leaves hang limply in suspense
Mair keen cuz yonder is quite buried, dense
Naught owns an eye we feel in sheer betrayl.
Did I search out the distant hours as twere,
Or grapple for a vision past this view,
We cannot but acknowledge, lo in tour
Tis hid from our mair "owly eyes" anew.
Fog on the heels of night as darkness stir
To light's tread, how I long anon for YOU.

03Aug18a

Laughable, the worst part being our complete denial is it?




(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCLXVI)


So we discussed--I can't remember hence.
Snow falling through the hours likeas a veil
Beyond which naught 'cept white was in betrayl
Seen from this vantage.  Sip espresso thence
In silence those wee flakes knew for intents,
And oh! what did the minutes know?  In pale
Hours white, white, white half haunted, to avail
The Scriptures like a tete-a-tete for sense.
Dreams of tomorrow in my noggin tour,
'Non swirling like to crystallize the view
That will be done by now, I spose.  Tis poor
To thus rehearse, and lo, I lost all too
When, after dinner'd cull a hiccup fer
Our prayrs.  Our lives are what? a vapour.  Ooh.

24Jan19b

Um, um, don't let me parse that out yet.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDXLII)  


What of the two espressos long gone hence?
Perfection, as lunch' fine spread was t'avail.
Eclipsed in ya, one phone call, aught detail
Was likewise, 'cept our dinner, or the sense
Of fleeting time I grapple for now, whence
Oh me!  Now Texas winks at me like's bail,
Ten-gallon hats with crueler heat to scale
Than Lincoln's Land, and lo, a man fr'intents.
It's wonderful to be encouraged fer
All that to fear the LORD. I've missed it too
Long now.  To talk together like's not poor--
Of Scriptures--ah, and with a man.  I do
But fear now losing what's sae precious, were
It mine to have.  Ne coffee's like this brew.

06Aug17b

See Job 13:15.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXLIII)


Watch steam's half ghostly tendrils in the pale
Eye of dawn's golden touch, as tears stream hence
In one lone rivulet down my face, whence--
Mock on.  Tea for recure, I sip t'avail,
But it's nigh tasteless.  I'm slain in betrayl
Cuz I gave all for love and lo, twas thence
All lies.  My smiles in rising gone, a sense
Of being sliced up by words my meat sans bail.
No sparrows call, nor play.  Snow crumbles to
The blacktop and I think it's them as twere,
Yet how that chunk lies sans a spirit through
This ugly chance for...tea?!  O please, what's poor?
My purple nails?  My prayrs for love in tour?
Steam likeas ghosts fades while I weep sans you.

30Nov18b

Haha, it's funny looking at this now.  L8:  that little email, oh my.


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCXCVIII)


Where midnight'd feign a silence 'til I'd thence
Roll back the covers to at last avail
Me of lying down for good, ah how the pale
Eye of that moon rose twixt those treetops' dense
Black lacework, shivring in a keener sense.
Although we knew twas folly to detail
Aught, how I sent my Joey, like to scale,
Notes on whatever, to shrink from it hence.
Or, no.  I squinted as it peered as twere
At me, the ghastly calm fit for sweet dew,
And rose when dawn's first shafts began to stir.
What are the dreams long since forgot as due?
For if I shrink from building castles your
Sweet intrest culls, will that make all come true?

15Jul17a

Or what?  



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXXXIV)


White answers on all sides as twere, til hence
My purple kilt and pink checked skirt's detail
Look just as wont for Winter:  what'd avail
This bleaker lack of colour we feel thence
Within our very bones, or as fr'intents
The Boden slogan was in sheer betrayl,
An ex'llent motto "squeeze the day!"  Light pale
With more snow in the wings, shall we ask whence?
Come, how soup's warming on the stove as fer
All that the grinder's voice means flour anew
For biscuits.  Where did darker colours' tour
Become too deep of late?  Why does that hue
Seem dismal is't?  Do I want Spring to stir
More than I realize that soft shades 'non woo?

08Feb18c

…mebbe not, cuz I’m not the only parched soul, apparently.


(sonnet # MMMMMMDCLXVI)


Of water, be it silver orbs which thence
Shine in dawn’s matin eye, dew resting, pale
Upon grass’ thicker carpets as the veil
Lifts oer night’s realms, the fluffy white whose sense
Of children jostling in sheer play fr’intents
Falls swiftly through grey’s mirky light t’avail
As snow ‘non blankets, or that which we hail
Where puddles shiver to soft footfalls,...whence?
Though we—our sins as scarlet—lie as twere
Sans help, how Thy salvation clothes us to
Effect, Thy people as the dew which fer
All that yet waits for none, and rain we knew
To cherish as Thy Word, what shall I stir
When boiling for tea all that speaks of You?

02Oct17a

...for love.
(sonnet #MMMMMDXXXIX)


He jested that he'd write a book whose tale
Was "I forgot to cry" as twas mine thence
For his love drying the endless tears' vain sense
Oer losing Mum, my best friend, and prevail
As bashert where I've never known to hail
Aught soulmate; loved me more than life, to fence
The twinkling hours with him in sheer defense,
And aye, eclipsed my grief oer her, t'avail.
Thus where Death called his lease, or ours as twere,
His last speech mine, he prayed another'd do
That for his Baby.  Yet aught else is poor.
I weep sans comfort, maddened while I rue
Whatever sin brought our demise, or fer
What took his life.  Cuz I'll e'er love him too.

22Mar16b
He said in closing [giving his full name]that he is mine affectionately forever in love for eternity.

Kick me?  Kiss me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCLIII)


As greyish twilight's pink clouds on the pale
East haunt lo, the first note of dawn, blue thence
Mair ghostly oh!  I think "how calm tis hence--"
Like ninety-mile winds had been here, the frail
Peace breathless nor but waiting to avail.
And where the golden shafts draw fir trees' dense
Forms on dead houses' silence, know that sense
Is odd, cuz our electric'ty ne'er went stale.
Oh Andrew!  My heart's on the West coast, poor
Though just friends augurs, where th'uprooted crew
Of ancient trees and battered houses that your
Eyes know too keenly mar the waking view.
And your heart grieves to note all, whiles mine fer
Just having you okay, gives thanks oer you.

08Apr17a

"...Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily/Life is but a dream!"  (Row, Row, Row Your Boat)



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCL)


Wash dinner dishes after dark for sense,
To rise and wash the dishes 'gain, t'avail,
In such wee hours tis night still in betrayl,
The hellish nightmare I was jolted thence
From for this lukewarm taste of what fr'intents
I like to think is sweetest minutes' pale
Chance, hark to rain cuz traffic'd shush in frail
Notes by, to trundle off to work, ah whence?
It's like our sleep was but a nap in tour.
And I half cherish that vague sense we knew
Ere dawn, as blueish twilight warms, astir,
Not lost in slumber, freighted chances to--
What, eh?  I do not know.  Espressos fer
Time to just savour coffee are good too.

04Apr19c

I am certain they DID bury me with Mum.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCLXXVI)

Memor'al weekend's here, and summer thence
In tow as wont:  my stockings in betrayl
Hang limply, needing to be washed, and stale
Cuz warmth is now a constant, with those scents
I had forgot:  that sour note haunting sense,
As to perspire is what we'll do sans bail
The next four months, erm straight, t'exhale
Nor think of sweaters, chill our sweet defense.
Watch golden shafts, while Maple leaves half stir
To fragile whispers, tricking shadows to
Shift vaguely 'cross grass' carpet, skies deep blue
And moody, clouds mair grey, light ghastly, poor
As listning to the kitchen sounds in tour,
The music gone, how static mocks which cue?

26May18b

Yes?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCI)


What is't about the train's voice, that th'all hail
Um, piques my soul, which harks unto its dense
Low rumble like tis...what?  O dear suspense!
How "nibelung" half winks at me in hale
Dawn's golden warmth as if it knows in pale
Excuse my name, like these elf ears I've thence
Had from conception argue in a sense
Now with my height, while mists haunt with their veil.
I'd feign lose me in fog's embrace as twere;
Go wandring like I canna see unto
The fairer realms beyond is't?  Silver dew.
I cherish its sheer blanket waiting fer
Heavn's burning glance, a violet none bestir,
Hid in the darker shadows trains pass through.

22Mar19a

You are allowed to be disgusted and denounce these early hours.  


(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXXII)


Let's talk of scarlet vines which boldly trail
Across this wasteland yellows own from hence,
Orange like a note what'd gaily trim the sense
Of changing leaves, where purple winks in frail
Touch deep maroon knows best, while blues detail
Tinged with ist lavendar?  Green maples thence
On fire that slowly burns their staid pretense,
Ah me, still let us talk of scarlet's tale.
I can do nothing right.  The weekend, fer
Aught hope of dating's here, and I shall do
Time like I dinna care, cuz in a poor
Excuse I'm hard to get.  Swoon over who
Does not but tease whileas he cares, and you're
All wiser.  Shaun.  Why wake me?  I liked you.

21Oct16c

"...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.

...penned sleepily, my my! the title was illegible when I looked at it in the morning...sigh



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDLII)


Blue skies are fragile twixt these icy, dense
White clouds, morn's eye uncertain in betrayl,
That glimpse half peering keenly through as pale
As Febry, though leaves dance for all intents
On maples tinged by ghostly yellow's sense
Of yonder, and they're trimming bushes, frail
Hours stacked like to those clustered houses, bail
The navy racks in tow where warmth's gone hence.
Tweed kilt in purple herringbone and fer
All that tights and a hooded shirt will do--
In grey, with nigh fluorescent yellow's cure
For lack of colour, I watch shadows to
Effect on golden washed green lawns in tour,
And sunset smoulders where dusk swallows blue.

11Oct18b

...I spose you musta appreciated that.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXIII)


You sign out "Joey," and say Thursday.  Frail
Pink like those bars thet Wordsworth noted thence
Stretch 'cross fatigued blue skies as for good sense
I tap to Russian strains; and we drive.  Pale
Heavns wear grey twilight, greens in that detail
Dark, shaggy trees with vast lawns, fields in dense
Green, row on row forever, and what hence
Twill be like in the car with YOU t'avail?
I wonder, itching for the chance, in poor
'Scuse for how slow you're being.  O me!  how you
Write "I don't do this often--" swears as twere
That caution's in the air, though you kiss to
Effect my hand these days.  Firewerks 'non stir,
Ah yes, they do.  And you're a dream come true.

03Jul17d

(if not worse)



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLV)


How shadows sweep across the corn in pale
Grey silence, swathes of golden warmth from hence
Askance, whileas tree clusters dimly thence
Wait.  Crows ist? like unto torpedoes scale
Descent, wings folded; cloud battalions, hale
In fluffy white, amass with half a sense
Of what's in tow.  And June for all intents
Wears age as if twas naught in each detail.
Another week yet, firewerks wink as twere
Now, cuz I had to play the fool and do
What my friends thought sae good.  Suppose twas poor,
We shall say it worked out, shall we?  Nah, to
Effect Joe was too nice.  Yet I maunt fer
All that be satisfied.  We'll swear I knew?

27Jun17a

He told me flat out that he owns me.  Some later date I'll parse that happiness out, I guess.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDIV)


These faded blue skies like to denim, whence
I cull a refrence to "old glory," t'hail
That pick-up with the flag 'non waving, hale
Against whichever backdrop in defense
Of liberty, look placid in a sense;
My voice hoarse from oh, singing's tale,
Cuz Joey plays the drums and when in frail
'Scuse I said I'd sing while he did--what hence?
He said I could sing anytime as twere
For him, and being late worried oer him too,
Cuz he'd download some virus, I sang fer
Relief, oer dinner dishes 'til nigh through;
And lo, when done and listless, what in pure
Yes, mercy?! but he'd call.  I love him too.

17Jul17b

(Here's where I fully intended to write about..."him" and couldn't.)  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXLVII)


So, as rain waits 'non in the wings t'avail
Sweet April of its antique phrase, as hence
How traffic lines up to disperse, and thence
Lo, rolls bake in the oven to detail
Our soup with now a chance for, in betrayl,
Orange marmalade to boot, as sparrows fence
The freighted calm with happy calls fr'intents
--A robin too--the dove flies 'round to scale.
Donne's erm, Selected Poems lies as it were
Hard by whiles I defer to scribble through
These minutes til the timer calls, in poor
'Scuse smiling at the birds like that is to
Effect passe, the light as fragile fer
All that as warmth.  And really, what is new?

03Apr19c

What?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXXXIII)


So, listen to the furnace, rain t'avail
Beyond, where dark night shrouds what I'd from thence
Feign nestle in, just marching with a sense
Of all we cherished for a minute, pale
Sheer lamplight glaring on the weeds' detail
As if I was but dreaming, sleepers hence
Half paused to hear me rustling for intents
Through darkened rooms, and I can't e'en exhale.
They're all tucked up where last night I as twere
Was first in bed cuz they came back late, to
Be up into the wee hours, I in tour
As late as wont, like tis my schedule through
The years, and crazy as tis rather poor;
And dawn will come when I'm at work.  What's new?

07Oct18b

...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

...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

The perhaps freaky thing is from the first occasion to the last, the affair leaves me disillusioned.


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXIIII)


They pulled shots on more fancy presses' scale
Of lo, espresso, than we know, tae thence
Pass 'round the little porc'lain mug for sense
And comment.  Bells and whistles to avail
Whomever of sheer grandeur was't? would hail
Their newr machines as ultmate for intents,
Dad sez.  And we rolled 'cross our tongues th'intense
Black tazos, sip by sip, til such'd wax stale.
Fire up the grill, next:  play the epicure,
As now mein host two diffrent cuts put to
Our palates and good taste.  Wine to assure
Souls twas the height of whocareswhat, we knew
Such conversations, laughter, and for sure:
Philosphy.  Problem's:  I can't think what's new.

08Jul17b

...might as well be?


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXV)


Lo, now the moon peers in to splash a pale
Glance 'cross Mum's carpet, up my legs and thence
Upon these silent hands sans voice, a sense
Thet silver eye just watches, what'd avail?
The Scriptures.  As tree silhouettes detail
Nigh ghastly clouds with blackened figures, hence
Recall "...one glory of the sun--" fr'intents:
"...Another of the moon--" what, in betrayl?
Forsooth.  I am not Mum, nor shall in poor
Scuse ever match up.  Yet what should I do?
My aunt sez God has me still here as twere
To do His will.  I can't but own tis true.
Dreams, prayrs, half mock what is.  Whatever, fer
All that is my work?  Someday swear I knew?

09Jul17a

...white AS snow. (Is 1:18)



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCLXXIII)


Snow.  That is all.  White.  Shovel it t'avail
Each day, nor look for colour.  Talk from hence
Of dreams for valentines day while good sense
Knows all's a lie.  Yes, think no further.  They'll
Announce this festival and that detail
You just can't miss, 'til spelling out: pretense
Is worthless.  Marriage is a joke fr'intents--
The "stars" are fallen, darkness swallwing bail.
He said we'd text this evning but that's poor.
I think I'll take a nap.  Write out the view,
But do not look it in the face as twere.
Tis best if you feign that you never knew.
Come back tomorrow.  All we have in tour
Is white, white, white.  Just say you like it, too.

28Jan19a

or Notes From, erm, Sunday [AFTER MIDNIGHT]

(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCLXXXII)


So boot up, grab a coat, red scarf, and thence
Wade out to breathe afresh (like to inhale
Ole Winter is refreshing) and none hail
Save lo, the cardnal from a distant hence,
Erm, corner.  Ha, pretend in sheer defense
I don't care, though to roll upon that scale
Yes, "lonely" 'cross my tongue as each detail
Hangs frozen in keen silence haunts that sense.
The lake is as erst wont and still, grey fer
How very white all is!  Wee snowflakes to
Effect land in my hair I 'non in tour
Unloose and shake out whilst a robin, too,
Sans voice half stumbles to the Maple.  Poor
As talking when none answer, what's to do?

15Apr19a

...cuz I miss YOU--but I'm certainly NOT gonna say so.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXX)


Blue heavns wink from thin puddles snaking thence
Across the naked blacktop, til a veil
Of clouds spread oer such seas, and warmth too frail,
How snow lies whitely on green lawns, a sense
Of what, exactly? in that note, fr'intents?
For e'en a **** grown through the cracks looks pale,
The hope of pink-tinged satin petals' tale
Upon erm, the Magnolia tree asks whence?
May will be here in April's wake, ere we're
Adjusted to the thought that Winter's through.
Why did I ever think twas not so, poor
As feeling des'late now?  Are your eyes blue?
Will I e'er know?  Or was it* all as twere
Some freighted dream I tried to realize 'new?

28Apr19b

My brothers were remarking I've had more beaus than most...  



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXVIII)


La, how Vivaldi trills and capers thence
When I am on the run, like to avail
Me is a chancy thing for all he'd hail
In, erm, my absence.  And oh! these skies wear hence
Long faces since rain swore off dawn, a sense
Of sheer foreboding in racks' blue detail,
The scanner crackling with a weary tale
My brother knew would be, and "jail" fr'intents.
Dad swears I am "subjective" as it were,
That list of boyfriends I once tripped on through
(Whereof I say "I don't know how to stir
Aught man, but I kin sure ditch lovers") to
A fault against my dearest hopes, a poor
Reminder of I can't say what.  Why, too?

10Jul17b

...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

April...my early sonnets...leaning on the windowsill as the streets were mad rivers, Mum in bed just behind me--ya, I've long been the nightowl, though how many times I'd hang out with her when I did.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCLXVIII)


Ah, silver gloaming whose soft light is thence
More yellow than wee baby leaves' detail
Of green chartreuse as rain now waltzes, pale
Yet with that subtler voice in tow, lawns hence
Thick carpets laid out 'gainst grey racks a sense
Of pink like fragile mists haunts to avail,
These naked boughs in lingerie black's scale
Just tinges, April clothed ere nightfall, whence?
O me!  The blacktop sports thin puddles fer
A touch of wet, and Friday's hallowed to
Some, good cuz dunno why, as we talk.  Were
It taxes or the missiles elsewhere, who
Shall--what?  I listen, laugh, want Andrew, poor
As saying is, and recall Mum:  all we knew.

14Apr17c

Not love as previously wont.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXLVI)


Lo, how the woods are silent! whiles from hence
The leaves all hang in soft chartreuse, th'exhale
Fast slumbring in its den, this calm to scale
Half breathless while all waits with half a sense
Of utter expectation I 'non finger thence,
No voice to break this patient null's detail.
And la, the clock just ticks, each second frail
As all the rest.  A Blue Jay'd scold, and whence?
Work nags at me but canna tug in poor
'Scuse at my sleeve as erst wont, cuz I'm to
Effect...cut off.  The rift is huge in tour,
Likeas a canyon whose steep walls loom through
That freighted, creeping mist I can't bestir
To find a glimpse of light for how to do.

11May19b

Or to clarify:  I'm a carved out Honeydew melon, empty since my mother's passing.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXXXVII)


Pink tinges gloaming as we walk in pale
Last minutes to the car, as if fr'intents
Dusk feign would swallow aught we'd known from thence,
And lo, how naked trees lined up to scale
Wait gauntly in the fading light, boughs frail
Sans vestige of that leafy cover's dense
Mass, orange piles at the curb and sidewalk hence
While red wars green for rights to erm, detail.
Subdued, I've lost the heart to play as twere,
My niece sad I'll not voice the captain who
I thence respond to in our sailing tour
Of distant realms; and yellow flutters through
This grey eye of last minutes, half astir,
Game Over haunting all we had or knew.

09Oct18

cough, cough*


(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXVIII)


Where gloaming's blueish note of darkness thence
Culls oh, electric lights, I close the tale
Of drapes and we hang out in sheer betrayl--
All four of us--whiles I wash dishes, whence
Sweet conversation, or reproof for sense
When I drop lo, a spatula.  Detail
Whatever, but twas sweet to thus avail
Ourselves of time together for intents.
Now it's so dark, and I have played with her
Til aught before is lost in how the crew
Of dolls cavorted to her fancies, poor
As aught excuses, I am blank.  What, to
Effect, teased for a line hours ere?  What'd bestir
While I was working?  Nothing's left that'd woo.

13Mar19b

Hint:  if you can read between the lines this might make sense.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLI)


O to be again his baby! set to scale
Upon the countertop where lo, fr'intents
The blender shows how small I am as hence
They watch their little girl eat crackers; hail
That fun with oh, the camra's eye t'avail
Poster'ty (which ne'er came to be) and sense:
So quasi "innocent" and dumb, I thence
Wish, sipping that espresso pulled, t'exhale.
Ah, foolish thought!  No sooner do I stir
Fond visions, but to ope my lips--what to
Effect is?!  Laugh at me.  Yes, hold in tour
Your sides and guffaw:  I'm as dumb.  Dad knew,
And further, proves it.  I digest in poor
'Scuse that keen fact.  And really, what is new?

07Mar19a

Whateffer.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXIV)


Smoke like a haunting veil the greener sense
Of trees now sifts through, what are blue skies' hale
Note as how fire licks up the trimmings' tale
Whiles maple boughs just nod, leaves whispring thence
In concert to winds' playful touch as hence
What traffic is speeds past like that'd avail?
Should I dream of gone camping in betrayl?
I'm sold to Joe, where fishing chases whence.
Don't tell me twas a sorry joke he'd stir,
This whiter smoke at intervals some cue
Or screen I should consider as it were.
His eyes lost their mystique when I'd yield to
Those overtures.  Tell me that patience'd cure
The fishy sense whose ghost belies he'd woo.

08Jul17c

...there's NO excuse for me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCXCIV)


Mists haunt the sodden valley with a sense
I only finger, and you don't know, pale
As mere words ever are, how much in frail
Excuse I love your loving me, and thence
How badly I want:  ALL.  You won't from hence
Believe me, 'til you own aught inch, who'd hail
My kissing with "so THIS is Jenny--" scale
What you kin have, clothes on, and where's defense?
I'm NOT "in love," though oddly as it were
All YOURS upon the very instant you
Desire, as putty in your hands.  But you're
So much a:  man, which term denotes why "woo"
Is such a pretty thing is't?  So then, stir
Me when you want, and whate'er shall I do?

14Oct17b

What are your eyes asking, then, reader?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCLXIII)


Snow.  Watch flakes like small children wander, hale
Nor but as if meandring down against mists thence
Composed of wee such as winds drive from hence
That whiteness 'cross this new world no detail
Blinks in, and brew dawn's *** of tea t'avail
Whilst juggling half a dozen things fr'intents;
Toast up two slices sourdough with a sense
Of "tea for two," to find my timing'd fail.
So, look out on this "wonderland" as twere
Half lost as those fat flakes I'd note, the view
Exquisite in pure white, trees frosted to
Effect, until the soul could rise in tour
If only, but I'm sipping tea in poor
'Scuse down here all alone.  O! to hear You.

23Jan19a

(or, what I did 02Mar19PM)



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXLIII)


Crunch M&M's whilst listning to, t'avail,
Karl Lagerfeld on lo, his craft and thence
Why he scorned social media for intents:
Cuz artists need to keep the channels they'll
Use to inspire such feats as we'll in frail
Excuse half worship clear of aught else hence,
Which I have learned ere now in sheer defense
Of this mine own work, whence erm, nod, t'exhale.
Chanel and Fendi lost a master fer
Their grand success these decades, likeas to
Effect they'll never know again in tour,
Methinks.  Ah, Shakespeare, Shelley, long gone too,
Carl Philippe um, Emmanuel Bach--what were
We thinking was ahead?  Mars candy'd do.

03Mar19a

Chancing to look through an old file, I'd forgotten the pleasures of matching wits with an intelligent man who actually has working brain cells, not just these "primal urges" 99% of men own.  I'm sick and tired of all these monkeys.  Go tell some other woman she is ****.  I wasn't dressing to please you, but me.




(sonnet #MMMMMMDXIV)


As blue skies, shadows 'non cavort from hence
Beheath the watchful eye of, own a tale
Of cloud battalions floating like to scale
Upon that purest sea frame what? I thence
Bewail Jean Yves and O! his wiser sense--
Lost on the wings of hours gone ere we'd hail
More than keen matching wits when time'd avail
Us, yes, a man with intellect's defense.
"God's gift to women," ah, I laughed as twere
Oer what he swore is merely truth, 'til who
Shall now console me, eh?  Most men in poor
'Scuse are dull blockheads, never thinking, to
A fault such beasts that only want to stir
Yes, "primal urges" oh! what shall I do?

24Jul17a

...but I couldn't recall where to fit the line when I'd finally a chance to write next morning.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXLVIII)


Likeas a naked bulb which can't dispense
With all the gloom, but draws up shadows' hale
Forms to leer from aught corners in betrayl,
And close in on that bit of light, I thence
Half realize Instagram details what hence
Has allus been:  lives so far distant they'll
Laugh in my face (as ever) that in pale
Excuse I thought comradrie's not pretense.
O THIS just after midnight when in poor
Reply I'm not yet back asleep, though to
Effect I've not been to the app in tour
In lo, some days.  It's just that thought I knew
Last time I watched "their" vids scroll by as twere:
I'm fooling but myself, still half blind too.

04Apr19a

Please, please tell me I'm not just dreaming.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCLIV)


O tell me that "he" thinks likewise from hence!
That all which keeps us distant is the frail
Excuse to break the wretched ice' detail--
I plead.  He'd smoke as if what, for intents?
My heart swears that twas all for me, our sense
Of what's afoot now mutual in betrayl.
If only I could prove that's not to scale
But dreams, that my desire was his--and whence?
How long the hours until we settle fer
All that the case!  Leave off this dance all through
The waking minutes life begins to stir,
And realize what I felt is not but two
Of course!  I pray and wrestle with as twere
Despair cuz I'm impatient.  Say he knew!

04Apr19g

Alas.  Absolutely NOTHING is inspiring.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLIII)


Firs hang their boughs in silence as in pale
Excuse it looks like some big snowman thence
Erm, toppled by whom, eh? lies headless hence
Upon the "island's" rim cuz oh, t'avail
Last weekend some tried to move snow sans bail,
As la, his forklift needed to fr'intents
Be wrestled from captiv'ty, as for sense
The icy pile swore it would NOT move, hale.
Now as a fragile touch of pink'd bestir
Itself to trick out blank racks 'cross the view,
Likeas a chalkboard blushing faintly fer
Effect, what drives me to complain?  Naught woo.
Nor have I watched aught movies.  What, as twere,
Culls this dull sense that nary joys now cue?

07Mar19c

He said I'm a good kisser.  ducks head



(sonnet #MMMMMMDI)


His.  O, I wanted Joe to call me his, in pale
Excuse, and yes, to call him MINE.  What hence?
But lo, I am.  He's like a dream come true, a sense
Of all a girl wants in his sweetness, frail
As fancies ever were.  Why, in betrayl?
To top it off, yes...what?  but kissing thence
Is nat'ral, being in his arms like ah, whence?
Two puzzle pieces fitting in detail.
If I said "he is home to me as twere,"
Would all I've tasted then dissolve unto
Some naked shore the waves crash into fer
An endless washing of all that we knew?
He sez that love (in all caps) is too poor.
My legs and lips are what he wants.  What's new?

16Jul17a

Hmm?



(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXXVI)


Distracted, aye as wont.  With half a sense
Of yonder pinned to five small minutes' tale.
As bitter air looks out from blue skies' pale
Mien and the maples whisper of suspense,
Orange-kissed or flaunting yellow in defense,
Go count the florets:  seven pinks detail
The stoney passage is't?  Four whites.  How frail
Their stance now drier stalks rasp over whence.
Yes, phlox.  Do peony bushes change in tour
With dusky red leaves, how my niece points to
Lacrima's echo tangrine globes as twere
Hang from, and I peg hopes to Shaun as who
Does not laugh oft, I guess.  Tell me it's poor.
And count the days 'til I shall see him too.

22Oct16b

...the bride."



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCLXXVI)


My parents said their vows with stardust thence
In their too happy eyes, years 'go in pale
Excuse:  today.  Put cake in each mouth:  bail
For forty-one years 'til Mum died, and whence?
I should be thankful that I perish hence?!
Likeas the violets which own June's exhale
As cruel, whileas their smiling faces fail
Before the summer's breath without defense.
So, la, a p'liceman stopped them this night, fer
All that cuz of Dad's license plates, to do
Was it a bow when he saw Mum's dress?  Poor
As memries, how we cherish all we knew.
And why am I forgotten, LORD?  What were
My faults?  Forgive me, please? and hear me too?

24May18c

...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

...will you?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXLI)


They photographed their baby girl whose sense
Of running water was to grapple, frail
As aught excuse, for lo, a handhold, fail,
Yet keep on trying, the faucet no defense;
And now she's left behind, this grasping hence
To just retain whatever slips sans bail
Betwixt those clutching fingers maunt avail,
All like the liquid water, mere pretense.
Lo, watch light trickle out as gloaming'd stir,
But one month til I'm fifty...is that true?
What had I here, whom held I close, in poor
Reply gone far from me, despite love too?
Oh LORD my God Who changest not, in Your
Hand tis to give and take, all I've of You.

26Oct24c