"...a) Apple Pie: Independent, realistic, and compassionate; b) Pecan Pie: Thoughful and analytical; c) Chocolate Pie: Loving; d) Pumpkin Pie: Funny and independent" Now, which one are you, dear reader?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMVIII)


Tis Nash'nal Pie Day, asking for intents
"Which pie are you?" My parents used to hail
Me as lo, "Pumpkin--" where seems that detail
Means "funny, independent," til from hence
I wonder if that's why they did, a sense
Of all I am within that label, frail
As thinking such things stuff and nonsense, bail
For how I 'non approach life, is't pretense?
What if it's true? My friends now as it were
Will call me "crazy," in a fun way, to
Be certain, and I've nary suitor, fer
All that. Been called "free spirit" whence, is't true?
To think twas sweet potato pie in tour
They served us lately. Then: which pie are you?

01Dec24b

...I've either the power of coercion or else most everyone else I meet concurs: 2024 has gone by impossibly fast.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMVII)


December first is here once more, the tale
Of months, weeks, hours--this year--are flown from hence
As Xmas tricks the days out with a sense
Of fabled dreams we've known in sheer betrayl
Lo, all our lives: the colored lights' detail
Which Daddy set up for the tree's pretense
Whose silver tinsel arms Mum unpacked thence,
To put in all the slots what'd e'er avail.
If presents were less grand than dreams as t'were,
If stories of th'impovrished matched ours to
Effect, what of it? Sugar plums in tour
Were lines in songs; the camel cookies' cue,
Green sugar cookie wreaths with red hots'd cure
Our visions in good style, as how all'd woo!

01Dec24a

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

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMIII)


Why do the Colorado prairies hail
When I think of "Thanksgiving Day" for sense?
Did life stop there, more than how many dense
Brief years 'go? thirty eight since that detail?
My photographic mind snapped all t'avail,
And shelved it 'gainst which future day fr'intents?
I wanted wine, though but a child, pretense
What drew up visions like more could own bail.
If now I'd rather work cuz all's lost to
The dogs and ravages of time, is't poor?
I've nothing left to cling to, as it were,
Except the Scriptures. Aught we ere then knew,
Like childhood, is long gone. Steak now in tour,
And deserts I ne'er dreamed of-- I'll seek You.

29Nov24b

I never yet fail to hop on the bandwagon, buying eggnog when it's very nearly out of stock, or actually is.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMII)


Thanksgiving meant a turkey, stuffing thence
Inside and out, with gravy too, the tale
Of green beans, mashies, cranb'rries cooked for bail
Until they popped, with cranb'rry velvet's sense
For aught else, sweet potatoes, olives dense
With finger fun, and rolls I baked t'avail,
The actual dinner late, with cass'role's hale
Solution for the end bits, sweet defense.
Yes, pumpkin pie was Grampa's rec'pe, pure
Home crafted whipped cream dolloped on it too,
With not much else but love, til twas as t'were
No more. And I've not known it since. The crew
Of styles since then are NOT Thanksgiving. Stir
But mem'ries in the wilderness, will you?

29Nov24a

The black man – like a pretzel on the grass –
is sitting vilified because of race,
and option less, he has to let it pass;
pretending not to sense he's out of place.

Another couple point, and laugh, and stare:
fair skin and hair proclaim their easy life.
A honeyed world means they don’t have to care:
their actions cut him like an arctic knife.

Behind, the sacred stone and glass stands for
a fruitful tree of life that’s meant for all,
but cherries are too costly for the poor.
Sweet learning for the rich, though they are dull.

It’s up to you and I to fight against
all orchards that we think unfairly fenced.

You feel like a flower thirsting for drink,
A flower in the desert,  mind  a foul well,
Relying  on others is not all so swell,
You feel like an anchor pulled down on the brink..
Anxiety flows in you up and down,
You  have weak muscles , call the doctor too,
  You  have chronic joint pains you are due,
Old life is dead; no time for  a meltdown .
The Sun does shine on all with or without strife,
And being happy  are   like colored flowers,
Bouquet of  flowers ,differ smell just as sweet
It is now a new beginning of your life
The practice of mindfullness empowers
And find hobbies too- find new folk to meet

...old.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMLXVIII)

Trees are so naked now, as if what hence?
The rain stript off their leaves? The féte's detail
Was last month, and we're ****** anew in frail
Reply where xmas lights could add fr'intents
The cheer we feel within our bones from thence
Is sorely missing? Last night's piece t'avail
Of choc'late cake, half finished, starts the trail
To whither, where I think of Campbell's sense.
Yes, veggie beef stew sounds grand where in poor
'Scuse my head's stuck in summer. Yearning to
Be back where plaids and cocoa, soups in tour
And knits were all the rule, why is that view
So foreign still? I'm all mixt up. Demur
Not to redeem me, LORD, for I need You.

07Nov24b

...I asked when I ordered.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMLXVII)


Geese wander in the wheelchair parking, hale
Late morning golden with a teasing sense
Of yonder, where now Starbucks' menu's dense
With all our fav'rites: peppermint's detail
What I've missed since last Winter, like t'avail
Me signifies the weather I feared? Whence?
If I'm bewildered, Thou, LORD, art defense
Enow. The day off I'd requested...bail?
Is't either work yourself to death as t'were
By hours both day and night, or scramble to
Make ends meet cuz you've time to rest up, poor
As need for some recov'ry?! What'd I do?!
Behold, LORD, my confusion. Oh, bestir
Thy mercies as of old. Save me, won't You?

07Nov24a