The other side of the previous sonnet.



(sonnet #MMMLXXXIX)


Mists softly romance clumps of distant trees,
Their naked dark grey limbs clothed in that veil
Of hazy white 'neath tender blue skies' pale
Cheer, while the golden light warms by degrees
December's barren vistas, winds a tease
Whose mildness gently breathes a hope too frail
To live beyond the sunset, each detail
From green lawns' worn expanse to heavn, at ease.
I used to lose myself here, every sigh
A fond caress I revelled in...'til you
Taught me to see past all which sweetly vie
For notice, vaprous dreams no longer true
As I rest me in who'd more satisfy
Than these, lost in your love and happier too.

01Dec13b

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 are.




(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCXLVIII)


How diamonds twinkle in morn's eye to scale!
Snow's whitest canvas icy, yet with hence
Those crystals dancing to heavn's glance, as thence
Blue seas smile on these landscapes to avail,
Clouds fragments of cold icebergs in betrayl,
And if I could but hark, the sparrows' sense
Of merry play in tow, while oh! fr'intents
We have a chance to sip tea like tis bail.
Dad sez his friend closed last night's phone call fer
All that with la, the note of what he'd do
For dinner: cheese, wine, and baguette in tour,
Our souls both wishing for some of that too,
The winking view afore us now as twere
Made poor by that suggestion, blind to You.

16Jan19a

Me and apple cidar vinegar well, let's just say it's a long story when a bout of the flu for literally a fortnight, and Shakespeare's lines came to the 'fore...


(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXIII)


Where Shakespeare would drink, sans complaint, t'avail
Lo, "...potions of [yes!] eysel 'gainst--" what thence?
"...My strong infection--" nor think that defense
Too much, I'm churning still from in betrayl
Erm, taking just that--not cuz I regale
The world with naughty plays as he did, whence
His closest friends chid Will, whereat he'd sense
That slight of character and yield--my bail?
Tis as he said, but oh! in truth, not fer
Some metaphor played out t'effect to do
His penance good--"do ye with fortune [to
Be sure it's tongue in cheek] chide--" cuz in poor
'Scuse paying the bills meant theatre as twere.
Yet my case is this fortnight flu I rue.

15Feb19c

Keats swooned over a world that never was, except in dreams, and I've no use for that.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXIII)


In lieu of aught we know:  blue skies t'avail
Sans blot of clouds 'til puddles mirror thence
Heavn's eye...take up the chalice to drink hence
That fragrant draught which yields as if to scale
More heady visions than we've drunk, t'exhale
Like sailors on the faerie seas, pretense
Our dainty meat; as lovers swoon for sense
Oer plighted troth, not as we know; sans bail.
Go into raptures likeas Keats would stir
And Byron knew to write, as Shelley drew
Up in his Ode, faint cuz ye know in tour
What minstrels sang in ballads, weaving to
Effect those silken strands to snare souls fer
The Devil's heights.  Cuz what we have won't do.

11Mar19c

Why I seem to be fair prey for men my father's age and his friends to boot, I cannot guess.  But how do you be friendly while hating their interest intensely?  He said, "I saw that look!" and I'm not really sorry he did, either.


(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXX)


Thin blue skies peer twixt greyish clouds a sense
Of bitter air wafts from, as if the pale
Eye of uncertain warmth's half golden scale
Of light is fragile and must tiptoe thence
In fear across these rasping fields 'til hence
Called off, whileas how leaves just whisper, frail
Breaths passing through oer naked boughs' detail,
The maples green yet as orange paints suspense.
He pops his head in at my bedroom door in tour,
And I assure him that, "Oh, I know you--"
While classcal music plays, rehearse in poor
'Scuse memries, 'til oer one say that we do
Not hafta lie:  "I'm not availble fer
Whomever--" and he bows...is that adieu?

15Oct16

Dream on, Baby.  Waking up won't be fun, but whatever.


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXI)


Those bubbles on my tea, as kisses' pale
Touch augur that according to the sense
Of ist tradition? and both cuppas thence
Wear crowns of...what Joe gives me--in betrayl?
I'd rather his dear lips than froth's detail,
And we're off to a start, for all intents.
Ist funny now I"m his these bubbles fence
Dawn's waking note as breakfast 'non avail?
Or how we've jumped from playful to as twere
The thing itself, 'til Dad knows what we do,
To say "you think you've got a boyfriend fer
All that, eh?"  Ya, which part is odd.  He'd woo.
It's been well-nigh two months since Joe would stir
My sheer complaisance.  And I'd love him too.

29Jun17c

Why on earth did Sunday AM's cosmetic ad tout "erasing dark circles with concealer" when that was what the mirror answered I needed done?  Talk about coincidence, or what?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMV)


O!  Watch that greyish lace called firs' detail
Upon the blacktop gently shift from thence
To playful winds, where pavement is fr'intents
Likeas some chalkboard smudged t'effect and pale
In afternoon's more lazy eye, in frail
Excuse, myself dead tired cuz coffee's sense
I maunt resist last night did punish, whence
"Erase dark circles with concealer!"'d hail.
Who gives a hoot that I look nice as twere
Eh?  None but older men, ungodly too
Seek me.  Old scruples were mair strict in tour
But faithful as the LORD Whose Word is true.
Blue skies are warmly clean of clouds; winds stir
These naked boughs to nodding; and what's new?

11Mar18a

Smile?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCLXVI)


What? ere the daffodils nod with a sense
Of picnics in their sunny yellow scale
As twere of frilly cheer; whileas the pale
Eye of half hidden blue heavns trails from hence
Thin shadows 'cross the naked lawns green thence
Haunts with a ghostly touch; while sparrows hail
At intervals, and breathing is t'exhale
Without a second thought, what's not pretense?
Saul fell upon his sword t'escape as twere
Abuse by lo, the Philistines; died too,
And if war's gained a new face, claiming fer
Is't modern Troy? that it's a horse, what's new?
They'll let you see the palace' room in tour
Which is the grandest, and you thought you knew?

03Apr19b

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXXX)


Say "retail," and then think of which detail?
Department stores and small boutiques, pretense
With boredom hard in tow, as tripping thence
Across the threshold, ladies men t'avail
Join, or else tiny dogs, pass through, a trail
Of lesser beings left in their rear for sense,
Who scuttle in and out trying for defense
Where money's not so plentiful for bail.
When I'd adjust the racks, or take as t'were
Their orders, party to the tales of who
And what, where money flowed like water (poor
As Daddy's saying it did not grow for you
On trees), I'd not aspire to their ranks. Stir
The same, til LORD, how I wait Thee: where to?

21Oct24

It's funny how I actually love how you reason with me, instructing me and turning me back where I belong.


(sonnet #MMMMMMDXLIV)


Friends.  While soft blue skies gently fade, peach thence
Upon the heels of all we knew t'avail,
Ne wind now but a whisper that'd exhale
Twixt silent leaves ah, search the keener sense
Of:  that.  From Jonathan and David whence
We see lives traded cuz of that detail,
To what I knew with Mum, to in betrayl
My darling brothers, to yes, you, come hence.
The LORD called us His friends if we'd ah, fer
All that, keep His commands, yea told us too
What He shall do within this world as twere,
And love, forsooth, is crucial in that cue.
So then?  We love, and yield our lives in tour:
For friends, as skies turn now a deeper blue.

07Aug17b

If only my ears weren't so damnably deaf.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXLVII)


And now a breath bestirs the leaves t'avail.
Boughs rock sae gently as the whisper hence
Flirts through, whileas I strain to see fr'intents,
Then dies away when I 'gin writing frail
Hope's fragile tread, planes' voices all to scale
As trees stand clustered far as eye frae thence
Can see.  Twigs nod sae lightly wi' a sense
Of yonder jist in tow, beyond this veil.
I'm here because we've said too long now fer
All that lo, "Mum and Dad's dream will not do.
We MUST join step with whom we thought too poor
In their path through this world, and follow too,
What I deplored."  The LORD God, what as twere
Did I blieve 'bout His Word?  The Scriptures knew.

11May19c

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pgdQf34SYSo]
I swear, I love him.  *Note, the eyes (back in Edmund Spenser's days) have been known as "lamping" which L11 tries for cuz of rhyming.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXLVIII)


Cold blue peers thinly oer the rippling sense
Of greener carpets laid out for thet pale
Eye's scrut'ny ist?  Grey, fluffy cloudbanks scale
Hours down in more uncertain light as hence
Ah, golden shafts look fragile whiles they fence
Long naked trees with thoughts of warmth's detail,
Winds trying to whisper, and the firs exhale
In hoarser notes as wont, me silent thence.
Cuz Andrew does not put his finger fer
Aught on my lips, no.  Yet he does 'non too.
Are my lamps shining in betrayl as twere?
I swear, he humbles me without a clue
Or touch, and reaches for my heart, to stir
What's been long in the tomb, likeas we knew.

06Apr17a

...unaware of gathering darkness.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCL)


If nightfall wore the softest slippers whence
Twas silent in approach, I could not hail
It on that note, as was the case, light pale
All day til others blinked on in suspense
None felt in all in our haste to be from hence
Wherever as lo, darkness seals the tale
Of aught we'd erstwhile known whileas t'avail
I finish warming soup in sheer defense.
But dinner's late.  Cuz we'll have pizza too.
Thus, biscuits/rolls rise to th'occasion, poor
As hot food going cold in Winter's tour
Of bitter duty.  We put off th'ado
Called dinner til that night is black.  Then stir
Ourselves to eat, and pepperoni'd cue.

17Jan19b

Guess I should add, I find 80's fashion abominable.  O, I do.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXXXVIII)


So I cut stars of canteloupe to thence
Hang silver ones on string to dance in pale
Hours for the baby showr last week, the tale
Of things I meant to do put off fr'intents,
And now I've chance to breathe, look hence
Upon this buried wasteland's white detail
Which I had noted then was naked, frail
In Death's hands, wishing for what? in suspense.
I spose I wanted to keep all as twere
Unclothed in barren lack, since snow anew
Puts aught in black and white, whereat I tour
What New York's Fashion Week had:  ruffles, to
Thet swishing 'round your ankles stylish fer
Is't eighties' taste again?!  O, what is new?

10Feb18b

We had a jolly good time at the Elgin Literary Festival's 2018 publick poetry reading.  sigh we did.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMX)


Ah, gloaming roosts in greyer hours' suspense,
Where naked trees down in the valley hail
Is't colder silence no voice would avail?
And lo, I cherish, as erst wont, the sense
Culled by that fragile eye which yields from hence
To night's sheer blackness, as upon thet scale
Lights 'gin to twinkle from both houses' tale
To streets cars drive in haste through for intents.
The furnace clicks on, growling whiles I stir
Our refried beans, rice cooked, snack on chips too,
As, table set, how dinner warms anew.
What is't to hang out with my fellows fer
Sweet hours?  The lecture fine, class dry in poor
'Scuse, what I loved was them and theirs:  what's new?

28Jan18b

Do NOT enquire regarding the title.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXI)


O rain!  I'd plans lo, in the werks--t'avail
Me of the naked woods in tour fr'intents
Of violets.  That is lost as I mull thence
The joys of sitting on the stoop's detail
Jist to, erm, breathe.  And lo, in sheer betrayl
To write THAT kills the chance as twere, as hence
Those priceless minutes are most strangely whence
I canna say, lost--more in tow--sans bail.
Yes.  It is freaky.  Why'd my earring, fer
All that, fly off?!  Just where I'd rush out to
That spot and settle me to breathe in tour,
Lo, how I spent it praying, and searching too.
Rain slipped off on the wings of gloaming, poor
As all MY dreams.  And I was laughing.  You?

24Mar19c

Please.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXLVI)


If only what, eh?  Close the drapes ere thence
Tis gloaming, nary soft pink blushes' tale
For romance as we turn on lights t'avail,
And lose ourselves to dinner for intents,
Where I dash out the door as if from hence
She'd just arrived, the fragile hope's detail
Lost in that race to be elsewhere to scale,
'Til I don't see, like others, twilight's sense.
Discuss how men are jerks as we wait to
Pass through this intersection, cuz tis poor
To think he'd act the gentleman.  What?!  Do
You really cherish chivalry in tour?
It's dead.  Just like I weep when as it were
None look, all I had thought decays now too.

04Mar19b

Ha, and THIS while "Dance of the Blessed Spirits" lilts*





(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXXIX)


How sparrows cry in sweetest notes, t'avail
Me of such happy smiles! As if we thence
Might laugh instead of being, is't sober hence?
And blue heavns look so clean in sheer all hail,
Like feeling in our bones thet time of hale
Songs is upon us is not false, the sense
Of baited breath loosed whiles these blue skies fence
The hours in more expansive notes' detail.
I wrestle with that spirit which'd bestir
My soul to singing and 'non tripping through
These golden minutes all seems welcomes fer
Is't oh, the millionth time as wont?  I do
Not know which way to turn, am as it were
Now stifled on the threshold as all woo.

19Mar19b

Is it pure coincidence my brother had called for my birthday four nights earlier, and instructed me regarding how to know whether a man loves me?  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXXXVII)


I thought of sipping wine, and, to avail
O, nibbling choc'late after hours for sense,
Until YOUR text confirmed the dream which thence
YOUR lies had stoked:  was false.  Now in the hale
Eye of a Winter's dawn where snow to scale
Is piled so whitely 'round, I think fr'intents
Of how but thieves and scoundrels rouse pretense
To mock me e'er anon, and whither's bail?!
We sip the lighter Barry's tea in tour
And talk of sourdough since he makes bread to
Feed all of us cuz my late schedule, poor
As saying, is far too busy.  And I do
Not watch those whitish tendrils waft as twere
Upon my rosy lea, now.  Ah, what's new?

28Nov18a

...how I miss all we erst knew.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXXVII)


Ask, while the kettle boils wherefore, in pale
'Scuse, brew morn's *** of tea again?  And thence,
As whitish tendrils waft up, up--why hence
Jot down the soothing dance of steam's detail?
If tis yet worth the effort in betrayl?
This cuppa I have yearned to sip, defense
Enow when oh, my fainting heart's suspense
Cried for its bracing note likeas'd avail?
Tis gone ere I've a chance to notice fer
All that the minute to half breathe anew.
Work nags and tugs upon my sleeve as twere,
While "conversation" drives aught peace unto
Another planet, til all I'd bestir,
Held in dawn's cuppa, is not.  Ah, what's new?

18Mar19

What a way to finish waltzing April, eh?  Haha on me.




(sonnet #MMMMMMMCXXVIII)


How moonlight streams in to lave all from thence
In pure, resplendent silver like t'avail!
But I'm too sleepy, noting that detail
To roll words 'cross my tongue in sheer defense,
Yet drugged beyond e'en inking aught for sense,
O! rouse me fin'lly to put down that pale
First line and half, to sink 'gain in betrayl
Below that velvet whisper for intents.
"I'll finish it, erm, later..." mumbled fer
None (in my noggin), look! tis gone unto
The heights and washes all now as it were?
Nay.  Clouds like insect wings which flash a cue
Of silver mask thet eye, left peering, poor
In hampered fashion, on the rooftops' view.

30Apr18b

Use a thousand words, resort to photographs, but never taste except in dreams what once was it...mundane?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCXLVI)


If ye look off into the distance hence,
Lo, see the woods' crew of tall pines in frail
Mists rising on all sides as Blue Jays hail
From somewhere just in sight, thet silence whence
Our souls half shiver to the holy sense
Of more than mere flesh' knowledge hear exhale
As winds pass oer the treetops whispring pale
Auld secrets that the ancients fingered thence.
How Dad's red sleeping bag is full as twere
Of camping in the Rocky Mountains, to
Wake sore frae slumbring on the hard ground, poor
Though my complaints the "pea" was too much through
Vain thoughts I am some princess.  Oh!  I stir
Sich notions now that childhood's long gone too.

14Jan19b

...miss Andrew.  L14:  Will didn't?



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCLXV)


Ya, moonlight at my feet whileas in pale
Excuse strings whine oer how I slumber thence?
The violin half shrieking, thet eye hence
Just stares down through my window to detail
My auld duvet as if on purpose, frail
White on the side I allus choose, a sense
Of what? 'non waiting in sheer silence, whence
Note how, and switch the radio off to scale.
I'm hungry now tis midnight--is that poor?
Twa sips of coffee, cold and stale ist too?--
Twelve hours 'go when twas fresh---and who cares fer
All that by now?  Not me.  Let Shakespeare do
Up lines none read cuz oh! we love as twere
His plays.  We don't, at that.  But ah, who knew?

13Apr17c

If only, if only...



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXXIII)


Read Jeremiah twelve, and lo, in pale
Excuse how William Drummond's lines come thence
Unto the 'fore with that old question dense
Wi' import we've asked oer and oer to scale:
"...Is THIS how all goes?  Is it thus?!"  Detail
Jist what the Scriptures beg an answer hence
To, and, oh me! is that auld query's sense
Of wrong the reason we do not find bail?
Thou dost not seem to tell Thy prophet fer
All that a wherefore, jist as lo, unto
Thy servent Job, um, rather how as twere
We aught to be.  Why don't we follow to
Effect?  Why am I here?  Have I in tour
'Non turned aside as if such things would do?

23May19a

Give up waiting, ******.  It's so much easier when you don't give a hoot and nothing's happening anywho.


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXVI)


I've been reciting for--was that--intents?
How lo, my cousins' kids are in betrayl
Nigh grown, who were so little on that scale
Ten years agone, when I last for good sense
Saw these, or pictures of the same to fence
Some fam'ly shindig with all to avail
Whatever, me an old maid yet sans bail,
Til hopes look quite askance without defense.
Joe is attractive ah, beyond as twere
The dreams I've known, a dream anon come true.
If only now we could be all we stir,
Have children of our own, lo that would do.
Well, be together in  yes, love, endure
To death thus, and have kids:  what's I love you?

01Jul17b

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXXXVIII)


Or'nge mums in planters at the entrance hail,
The leaves yet ling'ring on few trees whilst hence
How gloaming 'non encroaches as suspense
Half deepens like the colours whose detail
Grey turns to naught where pink romances frail
Bits of cloud fragments ere these blue skies thence
Fade out of being. Yet oh! how silent! Whence
Night seems to swallow all as lights avail.
Tis Friday, which I thought owned plans as t'were
For souls, but being upon the clock would *****
That auld perspective is't? Tell me tis poor?
Drive to the groc'ry store, yet never, to
Effect, see what I'm missing. Am I? Stir
Hope in the LORD alone. How I need You.

25Oct24b

Oh! the title is--oh my! Vaguely reminiscent of Keat's sonnet...."O solitude, if I must with thee dwell/"[https://www.bartleby.com/126/20.html]



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXXXVI)


Watch yellow rags just flutter on boughs thence
Sae black with rain; the naked trees' detail
Now haunted by sheer mists look ghastly, pale
White's shroud their coverlet, Death's kiss from hence
Upon the massy groves as reds tinge whence;
As if some painter's brush splashed aught t'avail
In careless fashion, orange glares through the veil,
And my soul'd cherish that mystique's vague sense.
I'd love to wander through this fog as twere,
Just where none else dare tread, as if what'd woo
Is ghostly spirits I'd commune with, poor
Though that suggestion is.  But that won't do,
Of course.  Ergo, I watch, nor have a minute fer
All that, to dream or be, just pass on through.

08Oct18b

I can't find the words to translate this.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCLVI)


Frogs chorus from the hollows, moist earth' scents
'Non wafting on winds' softest kiss, th'exhale
So lightly fragile 'cross my cheek t'avail
As I hark, lips half oped to hear from hence
In sweet surprise their voices, wondring thence
If crickets also fiddle?  Robins'd hail
At gloaming, to yield notes of Mavis' scale
Of ancient lullabies I'd list to, whence?
Forsooth.  As if my soul's restored in tour,
Likeas a sleeper whose long nightmares to
Effect are broken, nor but dreams and poor,
I feel now I can breathe, yea see anew?
Perhaps...who knows what shall be?  Love'd bestir
As in the wings is't? now that Summer'd woo.

05Apr19b

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)

If you're really good I might let you see them, that is, if I can find the pointy-toed knitted pink preemie booties some coworker's wife gave my parents....




(sonnet #MMMMMMCXX)


Suppose I'm but a nymph whose sprite in frail
Excuse wars, tangled by long cherished thence
Auld loves, and sorrows which I canna hence
Shrug off.  My father aye, and brothers hail
Me as so oddly wont to in betrayl
Don effervescence, whiles griefs own my sense
Of whither, glad to see this warm eye whence
These yellowed fields bask, dead, as if'd avail.
I dabble in the thought of Death as twere,
Like twould thus ransom me from here, though blue
Skies whisper to my soul of yonder fer
All that.  Yea, I hate aught, but love each too.
Or praps I hate myself cuz joy is poor
And crimnal, left a prisner, whence I rue.

01Feb17b

too much internal rhyming--oops! it was an accident, Sir Philip Sydney.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXX)


O! cloud brigades in white-tinged grey sail hence
With sluggish speed across blue heavns' detail,
As winds don't howl, yet batter by th'exhale
Aught fragile limb; and blue seas cleared fr'intents
Are full again with more such ships, as sense
Now wrestles with the thought war is, t'avail,
Both fearsome, and alas, romanced in pale
Excuse by this auld struggle in defense.
Death's icy clasp is loosed as puddles fer
Effect replace snow piles and don heavns' blue,
Winds battling is't sheer warmth? and roughly too,
Whiles oh! I look now oer the distance.  Were
The Maple's boughs untrimmed this late in tour,
I ask?  They'll soon flaunt crimson in debut.

14Mar19b

...with your beer-laden breath.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXL)


If owly-eyed is cute, then hug me hence.
But all I've got in suitors are in pale
Excuse, erm, rogues; these steal my kisses, frail
As aught retort, "you asked for it!" What thence?
Where did the fellows I knew for intents
Back in my youth go?  Why but scoundrels' scale
Of int'rest now?!  Why pray for love t'avail,
And find the LORD's forgotten me? oh whence?
Meet guys online???!  Yes, laugh so hard that your
Sides ache, and they are wicked like whom to
My face think having *** the fourth date'd cure
Our young relationship.  What shall I do?!
I pray, and rot away.  O LORD, why's poor
I ask for fruit, for children?  Hear me too?

29Nov18b

Whatdya know?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMIV)


Pink smudges on the East long after sense
Was on its toes and I upon, t'avail,
The clock, I'd NOT warm til three hours sans bail
Passed, frozen to my toes til in defense
The sun now blinds me. Nary telly hence
Tae drive sense out of count'nance, which detail?
Dark choc'late pieces, pie, dip, porridge'd hail,
With coffee from my birthday like what thence?
I am a wreck? The wind comes like as t'were
A guest, just as John Clare wrote ere, thin blue
Skies fraught with streaky clouds, trees naked fer
Effect as how November's last day, through
Ole Winter, looks as wont. Blue shadows cure
The golden light as, LORD, all wait on You.

30Nov24a

Yes, I am prolly the only fan of old, cold, coffee.  Over antique sonnets, too.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMCLXXX)


Soft blue heavn's arid eye ne clouds 'non fence
Though ah, how ghostly shadows haunt and trail
Across the rippling fields of grass detail
Below! look sweetly as in years gone--sense
Of all we'd known within their cast, til hence
The soul yields to is't childhood's carefree scale
As twere of hope? vain dreams' perspective hale
If we'd but 'llow ourselves to breathe, fr'intents.
And Maples' shaggy boughs nod; leaves astir
To aerie whispers, as the voice of who?
Some distant motorcyclist passing through
Upon these emptyer country roads in tour,
Lends 'scuse for placid calm, where Sunday fer
All that's excuse, the hol'day 'pon us too.

27May18b

Ha.  I've too much stacked up on all accounts for your feeble dispute, if any, to be heard.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCLXXII)


He led me on a wild goose chase, to thence
Look was't half sheepish, 'fessing in betrayl
Twas all a ruse.  No kisses either, pale
Night bitter, though alive and listning hence
Mair keenly than I cared t'acknowledge, sense
Upon its honour as a watchman they'll
Arraign for sleeping on his post, t'avail
I had a ball despite was't ill intents?
What DOES "I love you" signify as twere?
Folk never knew what was afoot 'til to
Effect twas:  over.  He's most chummy fer
Good show now my heart's lost.  The weeks we two
Spent in a whirlwind romance are gone, poor
As his late overtures who can not woo.

27Jan19b

Yes, I teasingly told him "I might even write you a sonnet," never yet informing him I'd already been doing so since the day we met.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCXIII)



O Thou whose eyes perplex me from th'all hail
When you cut into conversation, whence
"Hi!"--and--"I'm Joe." did more than simply hence
Just intro you, but left me in betrayl
In arms oer what that look you gave'd avail,
Yes, who when I was sassy cut that sense
Short with again, a look I'd puzzle thence,
Today--what?! kiss my hand likeas tis bail?!
Call me, "my lady," with a flowr plucked fer
Th'occasion yes, in tow.  I fell for't too.
Or rather, sweetly thanked you like in poor
'Scuse that was perfect.  O what did I do?!
If any saw they'd know we were what? your
Late project?  Shall I be yours now, think you?

15Jun17a

And now, ....



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCX)


As if twere not enough that for intents
This valentines Dad gave me Starbucks' scale
Of romance:  cherry mocha to avail
Where I'd not dreamed of aught, how blue skies fence
These minutes I warm soup with pink for sense
Light golden with an eye late April's hale
Last hours know as I set the table, frail
Sweet gloaming when we should dine, like what hence?
I don't konw.  Caught in memries as it were,
Three years ere was it? Febry's cold as due,
And Valentines Day only halfway through,
Yet I feel in my bones that May'd bestir,
Ere violets have a chance to shift in tour
Mats of dead leaves, for what is't that'd um, woo?

14Feb19b

I didn't, really.  I just walked straight up to where he was working, and tada.  


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLVI)


Does gloaming softly thieve what was, a sense
Of yonder haunts the fragile light gone pale,
And I see-saw on whether to avail
Me of the number Joe wrote down from hence
Or write him off as quite the fruitcake, whence
Our tete-a-tete is laughable.  Yes, they'll
Aquit him of aught, cuz I have ne bail:
Despised is, um, passe for all intents.
I am a woman.  "Lewd" is common fer
All that.  And lo, the skies don navy-blue
As nary bough stirs, traffic naught and poor.
Come, now they rock, leaves whisper lightly, to
Lapse into freighted silence.  Go assure
Yourselves.  I'll laugh tomorrow ist? at you.

27Jun17b

...the saint he ever is:  with a twisted halo.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXI)


Yes, Shakespeare loved SouthHampton.  Likeas they'll
Flout in these twisted days?  No.  Like fr'intents
As David cherished Jon'than.  With a sense
"...Beyond the love of women," on that scale
E'en wonderful (if I'm correct), t'avail
What drove black ink to cry anon that hence
Lo, "...single thou'lt prove none."  and weep from thence
Because his "lover" lacked a child for bail.
Friends closer than aught brothers as it were,
Which gave his jealous erm, contention, through
That, just cause for the notes prefixed in tour
To those long poems, and also therefore, to
His lines about that mistress who'd bestir
Such mincing lies in love's name.  Or, what's new?

29Jan18a

...by sheer droves in erm, Hawaii.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMIII)


Frost's hoary whiteness in the valley, pale
Blue heavns 'non warming as pink blushes thence
Fade softly, and how twilight's greyish sense
I canna 'scribe haunts sweetly, til the veil
Is pierced, that golden eye in sheer betrayl
With yellow fingers twixt the trees, and hence
How shadows draw up silent figures, dense
Yet lacy on dead lawns sans dew t'avail.
Ya, dew.  May shall own silver droplets' tour
Upon green carpets as I know frost's cue
Would be if twas not frore at dawn as twere,
And how the light is ghastly on the crew
Of naked trees, yet prettier thus.  Flowrs stir
As daffodils and tulips search for...dew.

10Mar18b

The sales caught me off guard with early cries of St. Patrick's Day, kick me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXIV)


Lo, sparrows gaily chatter as I thence
Pass by the entry, and whiles rain t'avail
Is like some fragile yet persistent, hale
Sweet kiss that drives ole Winter's Death from hence
And rouses buds to pierce 'gain through those dense
Leaf mats knit months before and spread to scale
Across the sleeping flowrs last April'd hail
The world with once upon a time, ah whence?
I yearn to wander oer these wastes in tour,
If that I might now listen to the dew,
Hear all the little scurrying which'd bestir
As yellowed grasses shift to what? anew.
It is the Ides of March, the knife as twere
'Non twisting in dear Caesar's back from who?

15Mar19a

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXXXIV)


Cold, likeas ev'ry Winter knows to scale
Quite well, sifts through the hours where I'd fr'intents
Giv'n up on wearing knits and woolens, sense
Drowned in the heat of Summer whose detail
Has chased me nigh six months, til I'd bewail
And search for chill but find t'was mere pretense.
Now thet the heat's been off in sheer defense
For so long, boil up Ramen to avail.
Oh! How I see the snow beyond as t'were
These blinds, lying on the fields foresworn anew,
The chill which eats through aught famil'yar, poor
As freezing in October, where frost'd cue.
What am I seeking that this see-saw'd stir
But keen chagrin? Oh LORD, how I need You!

24Oct24

...or--what?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXXXII)


Rain trips so lightly in the hallowed sense
Of keener silence listning to that frail
Step traffic rushes heedless through.  Birds hail
With merry notes and fragile, as from hence
Lo, crickets murmer like for all intents
The solemn ghost of patience walks here, pale
As Sunday's dimmer eye.  Clouds' masque the veil
Oer all, an airplane's voice sifts through, and whence?
Oh! how the maples' boughs rock, tinged as twere
By orange' first warnings of that rendezvous
With Death.  Winds caller as they whisper through
This calm, wool, tights, and tweed now, are not poor.
And if I mourn that I've ne lover fer
Whatever, somehow even that's not new.

07Oct18a

...or did, as I madly scribbled this hotly down.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCLXXIV)


Dear Friday night, could you arrange fr'intents
Some date for souls that draw the short straw?  Bail
Is sleep cuz I've no better cue t'avail
Me of, not even stars in black depths' sense
Of that which Abraham saw maunt be thence
E'en counted, cuz it's TOO COLD.  Wake in pale
Excuse to oh, the dregs of that wine they'll
Grant might have made me drunk, and whither hence?
My friend was too sweet, and aught hope was poor.
I'm sick of being the **** of jokes, yet to
Nobody's credit, dawn finds me as twere:
Ambiv'lent.  Yes, I realize that won't do.
What's left when I've spent all?  What, to bestir
More than this bitter taste of all I rue?

12Apr19d

Once upon a time we had the hymnal propped by the kitchen sink so's I could learn; years later Mum would sing along with me, and now...I like never but once in a blue moon dare to sing aloud, for missing her to tears.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXLVII)


What's happened to--me?  Rainy hours detail
Thet eye with silver's touch while green lawns fence
The minutes fog obscures by vague suspense
With softest carpets rolled out to avail,
And I'm not erm, my own in sheer betrayl;
Erst naked trees lost to mists' whitish sense
Of yonder, I could shiver, and do hence,
Cuz in a blink I'm his upon that scale.
One comment like my wont five days ere, poor
As what?  now he distracts aught hours 'til through
Suggestion I am giggling, sober, tour
His deepest sorrows, and maunt say he'd woo?!
Of course, I'm better searching violets, fer
All that.  Let purple wink low, saying we knew.

05Apr17b

Kick me for feeling too smug over this pretty number which happened to write itself.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXVII)



O! how I yearn to wander through the tale
Of naked woods likeas a nymph from hence!
As if I am the sister of, fr'intents,
The trees whose boughs like arms reach up, t'avail
Me of the light is't? or that sense of pale
Keen longing to just breathe, non listning thence
Unto the softest whispers passing whence
We canna say twixt all the leaves, t'exhale.
I want to search for violets, like they'd stir
Now that rain's melted half the snow anew,
Whiles lo, winds toss the firs whose voice as twere
Sounds hoarsely in this fragile warmth's debut.
Yes, I can feel it in my bones--that pure
Note of sweet life which calls buds as it'd woo.

13Mar19a

Yes, if any enquire, there's blood upon the page--



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXXIX)


So what of...love? the fevered pulse' detail
And how I'm yours in just a wink, to fence
Is't twinkling hours with you in every sense
Upon my tongue, and throbbing in betrayl
Through all my veins:  I have forgotten, pale
As aught excuse, what it meant to be thence
All yours, because to be is dead from hence
Cuz you are not, a memry without bail.
Yet Valentines is coming round in tour,
Though I've ne'er had a man tae sweetly woo
Or say "Be MINE" 'til after all in poor
Excuse was oer.  I'd suitors months 'go who
Pledged love and called me theirs.  But now?  Lo, we're
Fresh out of that, my dear.  Ah, what is new?

05Feb18c

sigh* as evidenced by which pieces "trend" being depressed is tops, while beauty is left to rot.  Whateffer.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXVII)


Blue skies.  And golden light with shadows' pale
Forms on the yellowed lawns and blacktop hence,
Sweet minutes whose eye seems tis April's, whence
My heart yearns 'gain to walk free and avail
Me of which blossom?  Daffodils to scale
Shall send green nubbins up til for intents
Their frilly golden heads can nod from thence
To playful breezes while wee violets hail.
Yea, soon Magnolia petals shall bestir
'Gain to soft winds, and pink-tinged satin woo
Thoughts of a bride upon the aisle as twere.
For now we'll have our refried beans and do
Dessert in birthday style with cake in tour
And ice cream for the Ides of March' ado.

15Mar19d

Or is it?



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXXXIX)


Yes, anime as from a distance' frail
Note comes to hail me on my own phone hence--
Which brother's taste cavorting gaily thence
Like to a happy air I cherish? pale
As liking by mere halves what plays for bail
Now in the background.  Lo, and for intents
Sis can make calls, whilst oh! don't ask me whence,
But add the p'lice erm, scanner too, to scale.
If only oh, the LORD would e'er and fer
All time take care of little me.  I do
Not know how to whatever, though tis poor,
Ye say, to fess't?  My brother's old phone too,
They set it up for me, and how we tour
Their favrite stuff thereon.  Fun like few knew.

02Apr17b