Ahem, so ya.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXXIII)


Keep writing "June" as if the snow's detail
Does not affect the facts, as if from hence
The cal'ndar page does not reflect good sense,
Just start the date with that first letter's scale
Of truth, and don't acknowledge that t'avail
Yerself of this might be half selfish thence.
Or wherefore is't I'm caught miswriting whence
I canna say, a Summer month, like's bail?
Tis Jan'ry eighth and bitter chill in tour
The rule, hot soups and drinks prevail as due,
Whilst heat and not the AC often stir,
And Christmas strains yet linger, til the view
With aught effects deny the note as twere
Of "June." I dunno why I'm mixt up. You?

08Jan25a

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

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

...and was granted that.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXVIII)


Tis Jan'ry fifth, and fin'lly I've fr'intents
Had shortbread with my cuppa Barry's, hale
In proper Sco'ish fashion is't?  T'avail
Gave me perspective--nary milk for sense,
I tasted tea as aught like tis defense,
And I am thankful.  Cheer'os that detail
For Sunday breakfast I maunt miss in frail
'Scuse, cottage cheese with't, craft up pizza thence.
Then Cynth'ya calls and we talk like as t'were
Six hours can't ruin our friendship; others too
Come by and hang out for a spell in tour
Til nightfall, then wash dishes like t'will do,
As lo, a day off is a mercy.  LORD bestir
In us to serve Thee, faithful in all:  You.

05Jan25

Ah, wouldn't that be nice, though?



(sonnet # MMMMMMMMMLXXIX)


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

09Jan25

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

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

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

...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

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

Why the Colorado prairies came to mind, I don't know, but here you go.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXVI)


Oh for the open prairies, grasses thence
All rustling softly far as eye could hail,
Blue skies above as if life was in frail
Excuse so rich and free! Dirt roads to fence
The thought of passage to jist where?  A sense
Of lonely calm alive as every trail
Jack rabbits knew, hawks, owls and else t'avail
At home far from the cities, like defense.
Five years and nary more we knew in tour
Out on the Col'rado prairies, cycling through
Each summer with such dreams in tow as t'were!
Go to the city for our groc'ries, to
Return home where, oh how sweet freedom'd stir
Us with soft peace.  Oh LORD, that we'd see You.

03Jan25c

Walker's shortbread cookies, to be precise; then memories of the Scottich cookbook my parents had resurfaced, whose recipe for shortbread sported a long essay the upshot of which ****** me as "...only a BAD COOK will add things: shortbread ONLY HAS 3 INGREDIENTS." or somesuch. And I used to make that recipe way too many years ago.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLIV)

Mull groc'ry shopping til I'm wanting thence
Lo, Sco'ish shortbread.  Craft it to avail
Me, all myself?! The antique cookbook, frail
As dreams, is not mine to use 'gin fr'intents,
So Google rec'pes with the ling'ring sense
Of that page whose keen warning yet'd detail
Aught finds: "...bad cooks will add stuff." t'will derail
Some, but I know where I am headed hence.
I knew twas only three ingred'ents fer
All that, or maybe four, no more, else rue
Thy folly, "bad" cook.  I'll need butter.  Were
There else, I have't.  "Have with tea," is that true?
Me wants to try that.  Sco'ish, known as poor
Back in the day, what's new? LORD, save me too.

27Dec24b

Yes, that should do.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDX)


What happened to long summer hours' dim sense
Of leisure, where I pined for chill t'avail,
And stoked the thought of misty twilight's pale
Eye while gaunt skeletons of trees skulked thence,
Dreamed of 'gain donning plaid and tweed fr'intents,
Yea of lo, nestling in such minutes' scale
Praps of "my niche"--that oh! tis ah, the frail
Note as it were of late November hence?
Why did warmth skip out on the last train to
Was't Mexico? um, was just days 'go fer
All that?  Where did the musty hours I knew
Depart to, eh?  and when?  December'd tour
Upon the heels of late October, poor
As saying, and I search for my bearings...too.

11Nov18b

Tis hereditary, I assure ye; the only question is whether the series of strokes which very nearly took Mum 8 years too early were from the aspirin she took for hers whereas she trained me to avoid drugs of any sort except Daddy taught me to love black tea and coffee.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMMX)


Frost twinkles in morn's golden eye, a sense
Of hope awak'ning in that keen detail,
Where soft blue heavns sport white fluffs gone on sail
Without a care, if only. How from hence
A headache nags like tis passé as thence
Is't true?! I drank a bunch of coffee, frail
As rarely drinking joe, like that'd avail,
Yet nothing seems to own, is it defense?
My colleague has twa plastic cups in tour
Frae Starbucks, so I tell him of stars to
Be gained in rather using your ain fer
Aught drink; tell him of "red cup day" next too,
Til by the time we'd part he'd quite concur.
Night watches as I leave. LORD, I need You.

03Dec24

Here, just listen to this:  [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjgndGuy77o]  




(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLXXVII)


Lo, coffee in wee tazos as from thence
How sparrows gaily call is't? to avail
Dawn's warming light which wears Spring in betrayl
'Spite frigid airs, me chattring to Dad hence
About when buds will 'gin to peer fr'intents
Upon the distant tree; and whiles I hail
Such notions, he sez Winter's in detail
Too young yet, noting he's no hopes for sense.
I was not happy, was I?  Just in tour
Seeing how that April haunts the waking view,
Likeas October did one June as twere.
Snow melted by the brief thaw's rain, these blue
Skies oddly wear an eye akin in poor
'Scuse to late March.  And really, what is new?

13Jan18

Yo.  Or, what am I supposed to put here, again?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXX)


O!  I could swear May yawns at me from hence,
Now that snow's curse is gone, as if the tale
Of slaughtered yards 'non waking to th'all hail
As twere of sweet Favon'us are but thence
Slain in that heat dear Shakespeare knew fr'intents,
Likeas to murmur that the violets pale
Ere I've had chance to finger them t'avail,
And laughs now in my face like hope's pretense.
Where are the dandelions nodding through
That oven breath if such things are so true?
Why do the windows fog up still in tour
Before the day is old?  And wherefore, fer
All that, is evry bough yet naked?  Poor
As blue skies' teases, I'm mixt up now too.

16Mar19b

(sonnet #MMMMMDCCLVI)


I swear, I love you, Robert.  Drive me thence
Up every wall.  In Spartan fashion scale
The hours down as I trim each sorry nail
Erm, with my teeth.  And oh!  What is it hence?
But you're the master of this ship, to fence
Unnumbered minutes with naught to avail,
Cuz I am spoiled?  Or what?!  In sheer betrayl
Oh help me!  but I'm cussing in suspense.
To top it off you have compassion fer
My father.  He swears I'm a task.  You two
Make quite the pair to set me off as twere.
Okay, I'll take up knitting.  That won't do.
You drive me bonkers!  Tell me that's not your
Intent and I'll prove tis.  I love you too.

06Jul16b

Damning enough, that song was literally Saturday's theme from start to finish, into Sunday's wee hours.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXIX)


O that delicious sense of being to scale
Gone from this world!  Lost in the realms of thence
Fair dreams likeas our folly draws up hence
In heavn's keen eye, yet by sleep drugged, t'avail
So far beyond this mundane hour's detail
That I ne'er heard lo, his alarm, lost whence
I canna say, just that twas bliss good sense
Chides, whilst I relish that sans, erm, aught bail.
Why Ringo Starr's performance of in tour
"Act Natrally" haunts both my rising through
Th'ensuing hours til even now as twere,
I canna guess, but toasting breakfast to
Effect found me in serving it, in poor
'Scuse singing "..greatest fool you e'er saw--" too.

30Mar19a  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6yWYO1vYms