#diarypages
Prolly NOT.
(sonnet #whoknows)
November was a wash; now April's tale
Is likewise, since, how can I write fr'intents
On nary sleep? or knowing aught's pretense
Now that Josiah's gone? Rain falls, th'all hail
Sweet in this chill, green all 'round like t'avail
The soul, the chick-dee's call mine in a sense,
From years long buried, when at home they'd fence
My way with cherished notes; sometimes sheer bail.
The world is switching to erm, devils fer
Aught bus'ness, hardly masquing that from view,
And paper's trail is crumpled, obs'lete, poor
As use, especially since the people do
NOT like it. So, I'll half kowtow as twere,
Thy mercies, LORD, e'er new. We wait for You.
01May26a
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 1:57 PM UTC
M'hm.
(sonnet #gofigure)
Call me from other sights to see t'avail
Deep navy racks 'neath which red bushes fence
Green lawns with colour, likeas April thence
Is wont to furnish, ev'ry last detail
In place where goldfinch mere'ly stop to hail
Me, as calm owns these 'scapes. And in suspense
So fast asleep I'm still too antsy, whence
How late morn culls the sun to blaze the trail.
Oh, then, how I must write! I've lost in tour
The sheer romance which held me fast, its cue
As charming as before, words seem too poor;
Description in the rainy pall's dim view
Just not enough. Late vanished, mourn as twere
That scene I cherished. LORD, how I need You.
18Apr26
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 11:37 AM UTC
...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
Nov 7, 2024
Nov 7, 2024 at 6:39 PM UTC
...until Saturday morning. [Up at midnight November 1st for work, and not able to go to sleep until nearly 2100, having titled October 29th's sonnet "I've Lost Track Which Day Tis" who's surprised?]
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMLI)
November first is up to specs, t'avail,
Chill as we knew it best like Winter's sense
Delivers, golden light where naked, dense
Bare trees stand in blue heavn's eye, wrappers trail
Left on the floor like last night's féte' detail
Was as expected, and the thought fr'intents
Of yonder is ham, turkey, gifts pretense
Tricks out in style, and thinking you own bail.
Oh, tis a Friday too, where I've as t'were
Been granted so much to thank Thee for through
These hours, how could I fail to see, in poor
'Scuse? Robert visits and hangs out like to
Rekindle what once flourished, and leaves fer
All that as if he owns me...is that true?!
01Nov24b
Nov 7, 2024
Nov 7, 2024 at 6:28 PM UTC
Or do you simply wade in a fog through both sith the idiot box leaves souls in a perpetual trance?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXVI)
I've heard of whipporwills ere now, a sense
Of romance in the mention, that detail
Which Wordsworth spelled out plainly in betrayl
False as it ever was, eh? Or what thence?
Perhaps. Where tall woods hem us in fr'intents,
Fire dancing as orange licks at logs t'avail,
Gnats, either by the spray or dusk, gone, they'll
Begin, a call I learn to hear from hence.
Tis nary dream. The lone deer I glimpsed fer
Effect in that field of alfalfa dew
Was settling on near twilight (seems) in tour
So perfect. Where dusk's blueish veil fell through
That lively calm, hark to what as it were
Calls from the distance, as't draws nigh...so new.
20May19b
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 11:15 PM UTC
Note how the title comes directly from John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXIV)
As hunter's wont, the deer's skull hangs fr'intents
Upon the wooden porch, eye sockets' stale
And empty hollows staring in betrayl
Without a blink, forever, with a sense
Of Death behind their deeper look, pretense
Half shivring down to nothing, bones dried, frail
What? shrinking at the ghastly sight, birds hail
From greenest trees where life sings in defense.
And I...observe in silence, like as twere
Some child. This womanhood I never knew,
Which crept on me ere I was 'ware, in tour
A joke which laughs 'non in my face. Skies blue
With whiter cloud battalions, winds bestir
These Maples to soft whispers in what, too?
19May19b
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 11:13 PM UTC
Ha, all the little details my daddy worried over me about is it?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXIII)
O how the dove coos softly in dawn's pale
Eye! Warmth a light caress as songs trill thence
Through Sunday's hallowed peace, a ghostly sense
Of silence hovers as none else t'avail
Breathe here except the wind whose cool exhale
'Non whispers through tall grass and leaves fr'intents,
Morn's golden shafts upon the mowed lawn hence
Like fragile notes playing hide-n-seek, to fail.
Showrd, dressed, start that machine for coffee, poor
As using canned joe after I've penned through
The years so many lines on beans as twere
FRESH-ground; boil water for my porridge too--
That "instant" stuff I oft deplored--and fer
Aught see how last night's rain winks as the dew.
19May19a
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 11:12 PM UTC
Well, in discussions since, I'm torn only because I cherish socializing, though I abhor the city.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXII)
Out where twa rivers meet, or rather thence
Lo, at the top of that peninsla's tail,
In Calhoun County where farm houses hail
At scattered intervals, with half a sense
Of sheer depression hard in tow fr'intents,
They show me where folk lived sans plumbing's scale
As twere of "civ'lized," cell phone service frail,
Point out the pump: an outhouse their defense.
I ask how long they lived thus, and that's poor,
Cuz "all their lives!" (the answer) sez what? to
Me in effect? I canna say. We tour
Their property by A.T.V., the view
Romantic in its backwoods' fashion. Were
I thinking what, that all half seems tae woo?
18May19d
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 11:10 PM UTC
Is it "funny" how miniscule my writing is when's done from the back seat?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXI)
Up north, blue smiles at intervals (to scale)
Frae stubbled fields' expanse, 'non rolling thence
From one side of the view to th'other, dense
Half greyish region clouds, south, where signs hail
With "Quincy in so many miles;" how pale,
Long minutes draw up navy to gird sense
Framed to a modern "christian" novel, whence
I spell out "bored" to academya's tale.
Does rain cull ghostly mists to romance fer
All that green woods off in the distance? Do
We drive straight to their farm? can't now as twere,
The Illinois and Mississippi too
Far swollen, roads closed. What I've known, is't poor?
Suffice it, "city" boots swear "rural" is new.
18May19c
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 11:08 PM UTC
...I lose.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXXX)
Lo: men. Do NOT tell him, "I don't care hence
About you--" for whatever cause. In pale
Excuse it's back on track and we're to scale
What, eh? Forget the little things fr'intents:
Th'espressos Dad enjoyed with me; that sense
Of ah, delicious rain! The sweet detail
Of coffee with a dear friend--you prevail.
It does not matter what I try. Now whence?
I messaged YOU on Instagram. What fer?!
I'd comment on YOUR YouTube vids, and too,
Left one on Twitter. YOU ignore all, poor
As trying to uh, communicate with YOU.
It's face to face: that's all. YOU win. Ya, stir
Me to those "nutty smiles" oer...YOU. What's...new?
02May19b
May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 12:26 AM UTC
Oh yes. You ARE jealous--
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXXVIII)
Thou and thy hangdog airs! In sheer betrayl,
You started it. My brother told me thence
Who left? and I said "...I don't care from hence
Cuz--(nevermind)." So who is now to scale
'Non showing off that, erm, I do?! In frail
Excuse for all this foolishness, whose sense
Has fueled this madness?! Yours, for all intents.
Yet wherefore do we thus go on sans bail?
I swear, no sooner do I throw as twere
The towel in on this game, but lo, twon't do.
You're back in gear to circumvent my poor
Attempts at moving on. You like me too?
No, that can't be. But oh! Tomorrow. You're
What, eh? Not jealous of my smiles, are you?
01May19b
May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 12:10 AM UTC
Pretending, feigning. I said that was the rule of the day. cough,cough
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXXVII)
If we forgot the merry dance erst thence
Wont to ring in this month which Shakespeare's scale
Of notice put down as not lo, t'avail
As perfect as whom he thus cherished, whence?
The winds are ghostly with a teasing sense
In tour of fragile warmth as sparrows hail.
Then ah, the Goldfinch seems to laugh, th'exhale
Likeas a whisper who maunt love from hence?
Did I swear I was "done pretending" fer
Which moment? Yet who shall not smile now through
Th'effect of these sweet songsters? I am blue
And would far rather weep, but tears as twere
Won't come. A robin scolds and scents astir
Upon the wind's suggestion say twon't do.
01May19a
May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 12:01 AM UTC
...for real?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXXVI)
I wish he'd dream of me tonight. Like's thence
Not so imposs'ble that we'd meet t'avail
Ourselve of fun. O me! How many (pale
As lo, a crush is't?) times have I fr'intents
Liked one guy or another? All's pretense.
I canna win. He's tall. He did not fail
To notice that I liked him, and for bail
Walk thus with me. But I tripped...sans defense.
Why am I never good enough, 'cept fer
The scoundrels? Or how fix me til I do
Not trip when you draw closer? Flirt?! In poor
'Scuse I liked him before, alas, I knew
What I was doing. One look, yes'd, bestir
My heart in just a blink. I wish he'd woo.
30Apr19d
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 11:49 PM UTC
Tuesday in a nutshell, the week, for that matter.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXXIV)
Rain dances on vast puddles with a sense
Of that delicious wetness, where in pale
Excuse I maunt find one spare minute's bail
To steal a chance out where it'd whisper thence
Fair secrets to the listning few. Note hence
That lightning flashes, thunder's deep exhale
In tow, and how my schedule shan't avail
Me of a chance to breathe for aught intents.
No, run, run, run, mair thankful thus in poor
Reply that lo, Thy mercies are e'er new.
And further, that "man does not live [in tour]
By bread alone--" but by Thy Word, while too
Besieged by what would drown me, 'cept for Your
Great lovingkindness...cept, LORD, cuz of You.
30Apr19b
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 11:30 PM UTC
...the sages taught.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXXII)
Tis all a paltry jest whose sweet pretense
I cherished more than due, although sans bail
Thy Scriptures oer and oer instruct t'avail
My soul to not love aught here; all I'd thence
Laugh 'bout and think t'extole as being fr'intents
Tops, waxing thin in retrospect's detail,
And to the moment's shining face, til frail
Joys mock "...their own presage--" is't lo,from hence?
She wants to go out for um, coffee. Her
Idea, not mine, when it comes down unto
The point of which cafe. And that's good too.
But most joe is not worth the price, in poor
'Scuse. She does not care. 'Nother friend in tour
Will hook me with her cousin, when? He'll woo?!
29Apr19b
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 11:12 PM UTC
...cuz I miss YOU--but I'm certainly NOT gonna say so.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXX)
Blue heavns wink from thin puddles snaking thence
Across the naked blacktop, til a veil
Of clouds spread oer such seas, and warmth too frail,
How snow lies whitely on green lawns, a sense
Of what, exactly? in that note, fr'intents?
For e'en a **** grown through the cracks looks pale,
The hope of pink-tinged satin petals' tale
Upon erm, the Magnolia tree asks whence?
May will be here in April's wake, ere we're
Adjusted to the thought that Winter's through.
Why did I ever think twas not so, poor
As feeling des'late now? Are your eyes blue?
Will I e'er know? Or was it* all as twere
Some freighted dream I tried to realize 'new?
28Apr19b
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 10:54 PM UTC
Ye never need the finer details so here are a few for mystique.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXIX)
Dad's vacuum coffee *** stands in the frail
And ghastly eye of Sunday's wee hours, dense
Calm not at all asleep, but poised from hence
Likeas a tiger waiting in betrayl
To spring upon the first noise breaching pale
Erm, silence' freighted null. We don't breathe thence,
Nor shift within our beds...til dawn's bright sense
Of "it's a new day!" draws the curtains, hale.
I slept through his alarm and maunt bestir
Til late, cuz slumber was a thing chased through
Sae many hours, I mourned sleep would not cure
My soul of aught. And Dad's now grinding, true
To form, espresso beans, tae pull shots per
Our Sunday wont. What of the dream I knew?
28Apr19a
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 10:46 PM UTC
Ahem. Rolling the first words of this sonnet over and over my tongue late Saturday afternoon--here it is finally
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXV)
Trash sidles 'long the weedy curb's detail,
To waltz out 'pon the blacktop, turning thence
And flipping oer to trip back for a sense
Of sheer caprice, and gambols through the pale
Dead grass 'til coming to a halt t'avail
My observation of likewise fr'intents
Some vague finale is't? Were dinner hence
Not keen on my attention, I'd have bail.
Yet come, are not we like this trash in tour?
So lifeless as the dead leaves Scripture to
Effect declares we are, forsooth. Winds stir
Our hapless selves akin to our vast crew
Of, lo: iniquities; to take us fer
All that far from Thee, LORD. O what's to do?
31Mar19c
"Seek the Lord, and his strength: seek his face evermore." (Ps 105:4)
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 5:21 PM UTC
...and know that I am God."
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXIV)
Some dog barks from the clustered houses' sense
Of sheer commun'ty, distant as th'all hail
As twere of sparrows and the Cardnal. Pale
Warmth is a tender kiss we feel from hence
While frore winds drive last Fall's leaves sans suspense
Across the naked blacktop. Donne's poems they'll
Assure us are good reading lies t'avail
Next me upon the stoop, and whither thence?
Hark! as the dove's soft coo wafts 'non in tour
Likeas a note from yonder. Say we knew,
Yet would not dare acknowledge aught that'd stir
Except by halves, blind, deaf, and sorry to
A fault cuz we'd not praise Thee, LORD, in tour
Was it? Nor give Thee thanks. How firs call too.
31Mar19b
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 5:19 PM UTC
...um, silence?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXIII)
Where blue skies like we used to know detail
This last, erm, calndar day for all intents
Of March, a Sunday whose sheer calm is thence
As sweet as milk's foam on th'espresso's hale
Breath of strong coffee, frore winds' soft exhale
That playful touch dead leaves 'non skitter hence
Unto, the silence we more feel and sense
Than know while sparrows chatter, lo'd prevail.
The rusty can's orange label glares as twere
From hiding in the bush' thin shadows through
These long months since October thought it poor
To scarf the leaves July was proud tae brew.
And tulip capes look scrawny is't? in tour,
While freighted what? nags at us to jist do.
31Mar19a
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 5:15 PM UTC
..."they" swear I'm NOT (awake)--as the world is waking on every side as wont.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXII)
Green is astir, though yellow carpets hence
Look quite as if Death owns the grass' detail
Yet, and I know the violets nod t'avail
Now too. If only I could finger thence
Those smiling faces! Walk through all for sense,
Put off this nagging what? that dogs in pale
Excuse my waking hours, or be to scale
The saint I aught to be, in sheer defense.
So, Friday night I played the music fer
All that quite loudly, bobbed to it like'd do,
Stayed up past midnight, and slept like as twere
Some log, but can't shake off this sense that'd cue
Me. I don't want aught music now. Tis poor
I'm not asleep, but wish I was 'non too.
30Mar19d
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 4:57 PM UTC
Ah, sigh
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXI)
Strain 'cross the distance to see (like t'avail)
Those crimson buds the oak puts forth fr'intents
Lo, evry Spring, their poignant note is't? thence
Sae dull in this oercast light that I fail
To ascertain but echoes of't in pale
Excuse, the Blue Jay chiding whom for sense
As we would breakfast late? me glad from hence
"He" is not here, but I'm what? in betrayl?
That "fly" caught in the web deceit wove fer
My capture, struggling, though I lisp off too,
The Scriptures evry hour. To be is poor.
I miss the dove. It's been days now. I'm blue
So laugh oft to feign I don't give as twere
Aught hoot, though I'm ashamed. And what is new?
30Mar19c
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 4:51 PM UTC
...but feel free to pelt me with rotten eggs.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXX)
It's been an awful week for all I'd thence
Tried extra hard to be mair wise. In pale
Excuse I make mistakes each day and fail
At evrything. To play the ther'pist hence
And make myself recite in sheer defense
The bald facts I threw out, ignored to scale,
Nor but let folly triumph oer, t'avail
Me, did no good it seems, "wise" was pretense.
He never cared that I exist, I'm sure,
Though I could prove he did and does still too.
Twas all a lie he liked me, but in poor
'Scuse my heart swears he did. I know's not true.
So I trip oer my feet, distracted fer
No reason, cuz I "like" whom 'gain?...quite blue.
30Mar19b
"All this have I proved by wisdom: I said, I will be wise; but it was far from me." (Ecc 7:23)
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC
Damning enough, that song was literally Saturday's theme from start to finish, into Sunday's wee hours.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXIX)
O that delicious sense of being to scale
Gone from this world! Lost in the realms of thence
Fair dreams likeas our folly draws up hence
In heavn's keen eye, yet by sleep drugged, t'avail
So far beyond this mundane hour's detail
That I ne'er heard lo, his alarm, lost whence
I canna say, just that twas bliss good sense
Chides, whilst I relish that sans, erm, aught bail.
Why Ringo Starr's performance of in tour
"Act Natrally" haunts both my rising through
Th'ensuing hours til even now as twere,
I canna guess, but toasting breakfast to
Effect found me in serving it, in poor
'Scuse singing "..greatest fool you e'er saw--" too.
30Mar19a
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6yWYO1vYms
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 4:35 PM UTC
"...because their deeds were evil."
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXVIII)
Lo, coffee just ere dinner, talking thence
Of I forget what now, and that detail
In passing of yes, "him" I in betrayl
Still have a crush on--what is real? and, whence?
So, pull up Instagram, to close it hence--
To find me snookered past erm, midnight, frail
As aught excuse, and O! Thy Scriptures hail
Me til I'd rather hear Thee, LORD, for sense.
What have I done, that lies cavort in tour
And feign they've substance like the Serpent too
Long ere used to thus ****** in truth her
That he deceived, and Adam? What is new?
Thy mercies every morning. Save me, poor
As asking from these lies' morass, won't You?
29Mar19d
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 4:23 PM UTC