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

(tongue in cheek)


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXIV)


As if to freeze maunt thus suffice, what hence?!
Work in an office where all boast in frail
Excuse of fevers, and food pois'ning! They'll
Trade ghastly stories til I cringe from thence
Whilst trying to feign I don't give for intents
A hoot for that contagion, like'd avail
To be aloof or play the nurse' detail,
Cuz after all, my dear, what's not pretense?
Grab for my "lunch" oernight what turns out fer
All that to be...so green with mold t'won't do
But for the trash. Did I, like, take as t'were
The wrong turn somewhere back?!  Tell me's not true.
Yet wherefore does aught seem amiss? Bestir
Hope in the LORD our refuge: save us too!

08Jan25b

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

(If I'd thought a full departure from the pink standard was underway, it was only Tuesday.)

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXII)


Behold, last year now I wore pink, a sense
Of what, within that theme pursued t'avail
Since when? "On Wednesdays We Wear Pink'd" detail
A tank top in the thrift store with fr'intents
The movie title "Mean Girls," whilst I thence
Saw means to don what Mum told me in frail
Excuse too many decades 'go, like bail:
"Your colour's pink."  Worn since like sheer defense.
Yet oh, this morning, after Christmas' tour,
I begged t'avoid both red and pink, t'eschew
That cuz I could not bear what, eh, as twere?
Dunno.  But deep maroon is perfect, to
Be certain.  What has changed? I have?! Demur
What I'd embraced for years?  LORD, I need You.

07Jan25b

Enjoy?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXI)

How can it be, and wherefore sans aught bail,
Just little me?  None other'd 'bide fr'intents
And freeze, nor could I warm til, in defense
A very hot showr ransomed me t'avail,
Chilled to the core as if twas that detail
Deemed perfect, eh? I'm not e'en skinny, whence
Oh, what explains the tale, where for mere cents
I froze to death for twenty hours, too frail.
Tis known that pregnant women have as twere
Odd app'tite urges at strange times--is't true
Thet only pregnant women do?  Is't poor
That freezing for eight hours, I ate all through
My lunch and starved?  Nigh midnight, I'd bestir
Lo, hot dawgs by desire.  Twas too good too.

07Jan25a

Reexamining the mere three inches of space between the microwave and the edge of the counter, I began to wonder how on earth the salad tray had balanced seemingly fine in the first place.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXIX)


There's nothing like the salad which sans bail
Was scraped off of the filthy floor cuz sense
Forebore to toss my lunch and lo, defense
Was elsewhere when I rose to check in frail
Excuse the thermostat, cuz freezing'd fail
To please me, and my lunch went SPLAT.  Ah, whence?
But gather all by hand and don't starve hence.
If Monday thought of trouble, snow in tour
And icy rain meant slippry, driving too
A challenge mair than wont, wherefore bestir
More by the tossing of my lunch?  Where to?
Oh LORD, do be Thou magnified. Tis poor
To thus complain. Bring us with joy to You.

06Jan25a

...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

...and January 4th, at that.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXVII)


With blinding sunrise golden, like t'avail,
I still am NOT awake, three hours' defense
Yet far too short for rest, my coffee hence
But keeps me feigning I'm upright though frail,
Frost glitters in heavn's eye, snow lining trail
And ***** in purest white the hours, fr'intents
Maunt shift, as nothing melts, because suspense
Is frozen like today, which yet owns bail.
They're all gone off to fetch some food as t'were,
Midmorning blue skies gaze on taking through
Such measure, is't a breather? Haha, bestir
Me likewise to step out and oh! Breathe too,
So deeply of the chill air til in tour
You feel revived by half.  LORD, I thank You.

04Jan25

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

Insanely busy, if you want to know. L5: my father taught me coffee "is NOT a medicine; enjoy it."

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXIII)


Why does a headache nag?  What shall avail?
Dream of lo, coffee in the morning hence,
Like t'will erase this, lack of sleep fr'intents
A culprit sans much for recure, to fail
Was't at "enjoyment"? Or then which detail?
Cold sausage gravy on cold biscuits thence
Sans eggs for lack of time, half grapefruit's sense
With clem'tines, nary lunch...cuz later's bail?
Yet home with not a wink of sleep in tour
For working oernight twa days now, I do
Not have the time.  Clean house, then dinner'd stir
And I'm asleep thereafter...until through
What?  Wake at midnight, on the couch--is't poor?
Where is the day fled? LORD, I wait on You.

02Jan25