These shifts are killing me. Oh well.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXXXIX)


Where pink is like romance ere daybreak, dense
Wi' import, burning on the East t'avail,
A fire which seems t'oertake the blackness, hale
In what, precisely? youth by now pretense
Is't? On but three hours sleep, I've no defense,
This dragging me along must do sans bail,
As coffee is some dragon I'll to scale
Do battle with when I've some strength for sense.
Tea-lemonade for drowning sailors'd cure
Me halfway, if at all, where Milo's brew
With "Simply Lemonade" I'll take in tour
Along to keep my chin 'bove water. Blue
Heav'ns warm as sparrows chirp likeas to stir
The dead (and I'm death warmed oer): I need You.

26Oct24a

(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

(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

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXXXI)


Hark to the sparrows' cries like whither hence
Might have a voice to guide me on the trail,
And wherefore now recall the sweet detail--
How ere small children's voices trimmed aught sense
Of being with happy notes, the hours sae dense
With their 'loved noises I'd hate rooms th'all hail
Could not be heard in, where keen silence'd veil
The shadowed places' lack with aching thence.
Why am I stuck here, left behind as t'were,
Right where I'd oft deplore the folk that knew
Cold silence as their norm? Why maunt I stir
Life 'cept in plants?! I hate this empty view!
Being all growed up was s'posed to be in tour
The ticket to that joy. But not for who?!

22Oct24a

(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

I only let my trainee use the computer--did I unconsciously lean too much on the desk?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXV)


Say "road construction" nice and slow, til sense
Wakes up to realize "parked" upon the trail
To yonder is no jest at all. Avail
Me of the wilder flowrs as we sit thence
Upon the highway, driving some pretense
Stoked by whom thought it meant to travel. Frail
As aught excuse, I find no means of bail.
And "late to work" revives its image. Whence?
Have baby back pork ribs, pork egg rolls too
For lunch, and breakfast's omelet'd languish, poor
Though aught reply cuz, hunger sated, were
There else to eat, a spinach smoothie'd do
For in between, as I'm mixt up. Stir
Thyself and oh return, LORD. We wait You.

12Oct24a

Believe me, if I knew the reason, I'd give it;your guess is as good as mine.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXII)


Go flip me out like yoghurts lately; frail
Though aught excuse, I'm still here, with a sense
I canna shake, cuz I don't wanna thence
Be is't?  I slept more soundly like t'avail
Me of the mere suggestion could own bail,
Yet such, erm, follies are but cruel pretense.
I neither want this scene nor can from hence
Return to aught I knew, so which detail?
Where pink begins to romance night as t'were,
Find Ian Van Dahl's beat in my fingers to
Drive forward "Castles In the Sky" as poor,
Til ere dawn break, find what 'neath softest blue
Heavns? How Thy mercies new each morning stir
Afresh: Thy sparrows sweetly sing of You.

10Oct24a

Half asleep feet shuffle in aimlessly;
Water fills the celestial coffeepot.
Chocolate brown grounds by a spoon are allot.
A spoonful spills to the floor! This marks its tragedy.
Another, another, so painfully,
This tragedy would make any distraught.
How can sleep be torn from eyes so bloodshot
Without the black elixir so holy?

The sleepy feet walk through the garage door,
Each brooms' handle is long like cold harpoons.
It sweeps up the wasted dreams on the floor.
"I measured out my life in coffee spoons."1
The tedious toil begins once more,
And so go the morning coffee mistunes.


1 - From "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

O Viviane, waters billow below,
Scour my stone heart, to cut a cleft of you.
Coarse time grate, frothed roars the crag pool bruise.
There my gold name was your treasure to throw.
Now your madness is the sole love I know.
Summer sun’s blaze, gleaming corkscrews freed truths;
My willow’s fingers brushed your cobalt hues,
So secret reeds in our sparkling lake grow.
Maybe that’s why I stand on the cliff-side.
A search for your haunting shadow’s colour;
I chase it like my hopes, back to this hurt,
And with quaking limbs, hoarse cries fill the sky:
“Lord, I beg you, help me to uncover
The magician who left me with this curse.”

𝘖 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩
𝘐𝘤𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘦’𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴.
𝘚𝘢𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴’ 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥,
𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸.
𝘉𝘢𝘳’𝘴 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘻𝘦, 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥.
𝘐𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵’𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮, 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥.
𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯’𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘸.
𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘧-𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.
𝘚𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧, 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴,
𝘌𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵.
𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦
𝘠𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘫𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳,
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦.

Viviane, ephemeral as the day.
𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦.
I’d play for you even without an ace.
𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘺.
Cheat, and I’ll honour you, in every game.  
𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴, 𝘐’𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦.
Lie, and I’ll believe you, in every case.
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦.
Maybe that’s why I stand on the cliff-side.
𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴?
Or has our portrait dried in shades of hurt?  
𝘉𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦.
I wonder if we’ll ever discover  
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦.

Who gave you that name, Cinderella? Grey
Like the faded ashes they make you clean.
Strict as the hour-glass, they haven’t seen you gleam.
Granular vision curtails them to day.
Cursed curfew; trickling sands serve time’s keen gain.  
Chandeliers and red wine, the ball’s a dream.
Midnight’s starlight in your slippers, you flee.
Shatter all the glass; then, with me, remain.
Sharp as its edges, coarse time vanishes,
Like the bacchant’s memory, your form’s bare.
Soft feet brushed by sands, lips seal promises.
Exiled, like your gown, we don’t belong there.
See through me, Cinderella, take my hand.
Your name’s gold-dust; I’ll sign it in the sand.