Moments like these seem like dreams you'd let last forever.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCLXVI)


Ah, gorgeous afternoon, the light is hence
As Autumn's wont, with subtle shadows' trail
To yonder just in tow, despite skies' hale
Blue cloudlets gather in, grey is't? so dense.
White fluffs upon a sail are glowing thence
Likeas some grand battalion sans avail,
This golden scene doomed ere night, each detail
Lit sweetly, breathless, nor in aught suspense.
If morning was half Monday (though in poor
'Scuse tis the weekend), all's forgotten through
Sheer absence, and this calm naught seems'd bestir.
Rain lately, how September's lawns, mowed to
Old specs, are green as Fall knows best in tour
To furnish. LORD, we faint, and wait for You.

27Sep25b

...dolls?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCLXIV)


Mum's Saucy Walker doll was lifesize, dense
With features such as truly walking, frail
As plastic and sheer dreams. I thought, sans bail,
She was NOT cute, nor liked her aspect, whence
I left Mum's doll to perish sans defense,
Her joys in that toy only hers, the trail
To playing at house for me: a doll t'avail
As big as Saucy Walker, cuter for intents.
No, Katy could not walk, just wet all her
Fine diapers, whilst I chewed her bottle to
Destruction. I recall the toy store fer
My desp'rate dreams, with Katy's shelf high, too
High for but grown-ups; Saucy Walker, poor
As Mum's dreams languished. LORD, how I need You.

26Sep25b

Cough, cough*



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCLIX)


Come, porridge, plain and simply, is t'avail
The fodder of my fathers in aught sense,
A taste of home with all its comforts hence,
As if from ages past, in that detail
Sheer solace to my soul where sorrows' trail
Is rocky and I falter, scanting thence
Likeas the blind and wounded for defense,
One bite the answer where I'd ask for bail.
The rich have nary use for it, 'cept fer
Their horses; and despise whom ver'ly do.
They add sich flavours to theirs til as t'were
Tis buried, call it "tasteless," nor but rue
This humble fare in essence. Let me stir
Mine oatmeal and seek Thy face, LORD, anew.

24Sep25a

...in my twenties and thirties


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCLVIII)


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

23Sep25

Like, huh?!


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCLVII)


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

23Sep25a

...just not AT me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCLIV)


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

21Sep25b

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



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCL)


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

19Sep25b

Eh?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXLIX)


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

19Sep25a

Beats me.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXLIII)


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

16Sep25a

Haha on me.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCXLI)


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

15Sep25c