Y is the second to last letter in the alphabet.  Does it ask a question to Z?  Why then Z?  Do you mean more then me?  Y said.  But while getting the reply the world ended.  ZZZ

My footsteps should have remained static,
but I listened while you were whispering
                beyond my reflections.
       I was their but my own impression
didn't linger long enough to see the pain
                       falling like autumns leaves.

I looked beyond the views of myself and saw
a light fading before it was meant to become
                                                    a shooting star.
I now wish upon your descending memory,
wishing I had been there more before you felt
                        the need to become extinguished.

Reminiscing on my failures of what I should
                                           have delicately read.
But I let you light fade swinging like an
extinguished chandelier.
No longer did light breath,
                    but an extinguished moment
of time that wasn't meant to fade yet.

*"Were both shooting stars hanging silently,
                      never falling just motionless in grief.

hi.  [funny thing about chancing upon that particular title is my first boyfriend used to wrestle with my brothers and I]


(sonnet #MMMMMMDCXCV)


Ah, silver twilight! mists like to a veil
Down in the valley, maples nod from hence
Their greener boughs as rain 'non whispers thence--
That voice my soul harks unto, low and frail
Yet oh, how sweet!  If only in betrayl
I could 'gain lose me on that haunting sense
Which tugs at nary sleeve, yet knows fr'intents
What I sae yearn t'embrace, light waxing pale.
My brother sez thet all does change as twere,
Um, after we are one, though neither to
Effect know truly, 'cept by what, in poor
'Scuse, others say.  The Word of God is true.
I'm sick of waiting...yet.  Leaves dimly stir,
This half-light all I cherish, without you.

14Oct17c

...there's NO excuse for me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCXCIV)


Mists haunt the sodden valley with a sense
I only finger, and you don't know, pale
As mere words ever are, how much in frail
Excuse I love your loving me, and thence
How badly I want:  ALL.  You won't from hence
Believe me, 'til you own aught inch, who'd hail
My kissing with "so THIS is Jenny--" scale
What you kin have, clothes on, and where's defense?
I'm NOT "in love," though oddly as it were
All YOURS upon the very instant you
Desire, as putty in your hands.  But you're
So much a:  man, which term denotes why "woo"
Is such a pretty thing is't?  So then, stir
Me when you want, and whate'er shall I do?

14Oct17b

wow, wrote this in 12 minutes...*



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCXCIII)


My bad...it is semantics thet avail
You of the same affections I've lost, whence?
Oh dear!  How shall I ever own defense?
He's Russian' beat strains on whiles I in pale
'Scuse madly type that sonnet in betrayl
Up for you, and how shall I put it hence?
When we're apart I'm strong; together? sense
Is buried and I yield me up sans bail.
Thus leave me in cold silence and, though's poor,
Lo, I thought "curtains!" though my brother knew
Far better.  Now rain'd sweetly dance in tour
And I miss being where he is, lost thus to
My world in his, although's too short as twere.
Why can't a godly man want me...um, you?

14Oct17a

What was that about ironic?


(sonnet #MMMMDCXLII)


They swore I should be published when my frail
Attempts proved that my alphabet was thence
Down pat, a couple verbs and nouns from whence
I made a twisted bit of nonsense, pale
And certain notes that I owned more than bail
For their now wasted cries of sheer pretense,
Nor would they quiet down 'til their defense
Was trounced when I could speak and **** the tale.
Yes.  Now that I trip off much less obscure
Lines, even sentences which march straight to
The point, I've lost my following as twere.
Come, did they like the early babble?  Few
Can make it past the toddling stage, whence fer
The grand achievement, I'm alone.  Boohoo.


(sonnet #MMMMDCXLIII)


Please don't say either that I was from hence
Givn this quite fair, though transient gift's detail
To hone its more exquisite sense in pale
Excuse for being alone, nor that twas thence
Deemed fit cuz twould be yet destroyed (whose sense
Of worth was fragile in sheer truth's betrayl),
But grant me something more, as if for bail,
And say that love will pay for my intents.
Walk through the library amassed as twere;
Yea, listen as my spirit filters through
The tapestry of lines, until in poor
Reply its voice half alters subtly too.
Did I leave innocence behind?  Twas your
Fault who taught me what life is:  loving you.

06Mar15e,f

Watching anime again lately, the teeny-boppers eagerly asking each other for "contact info" I now think to want that, but it'd do no good since I never call guys.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCXVI)


Not gloaming, but a fragile note that sense
Culls as the maples' silent leaves shift, pale
Light on the waning, and blue's soft detail
Is clouds 'non painted to effect that hence.
Lo, green by dint of shadows deepens, whence
This calm that tiptoes 'cross the moor t'avail
Knows aye, the hollows are alive to scale,
Nor frogs asleep now nightfall beckons thence.
I wonder if Joe thinks of me as twere,
Or whether dreams are mine alone tae stew
Oer, who 'non miss those eyes sunglasses' poor
Blind's kept me from enjoying two weeks now too
Erm, many.  I'll just wait, and pray.  Assure
Me nothing.  He is moving fast thinks who?!

16Jun17b

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

By the by, her prompt was summer, with several provocative, evocative poems by other authors.  I began this one in meeting, cuz I'd finished that first one and people were not done scribbling, nor had she called time yet, but as the sestet proves, I finished it an hour later, outside.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCIV)


Yes, summer.  Blue skies nary clouds 'non fence
While fragile boughs rock to rough winds' exhale,
Leaves whispring as these golden shafts detail
The colder silence we now scribble hence
Through, and it's not e'en eight, but nearly, whence
Ya, what?  A train's deep voice in passing'd hail,
And people shift within their seats t'avail:
It's...June, and Shakespeare said "hot," aye, that sense.
Tis early, but the fifth, and cooler fer
'Most nine, as gloaming culls a winking crew
Of robins and lo, who? to lilt in tour
While I wait on this bench, and fading blue
Skies yield to friends in passing, while tis your
Face, arms, I want sae badly, Adrian:  you.

05Jun17c