#saturdayam
Kick me? Kiss me.
(sonnet #MMMMMMCCLIII)
As greyish twilight's pink clouds on the pale
East haunt lo, the first note of dawn, blue thence
Mair ghostly oh! I think "how calm tis hence--"
Like ninety-mile winds had been here, the frail
Peace breathless nor but waiting to avail.
And where the golden shafts draw fir trees' dense
Forms on dead houses' silence, know that sense
Is odd, cuz our electric'ty ne'er went stale.
Oh Andrew! My heart's on the West coast, poor
Though just friends augurs, where th'uprooted crew
Of ancient trees and battered houses that your
Eyes know too keenly mar the waking view.
And your heart grieves to note all, whiles mine fer
Just having you okay, gives thanks oer you.
08Apr17a
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 1:07 AM UTC
Here, just listen to this: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjgndGuy77o]
(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLXXVII)
Lo, coffee in wee tazos as from thence
How sparrows gaily call is't? to avail
Dawn's warming light which wears Spring in betrayl
'Spite frigid airs, me chattring to Dad hence
About when buds will 'gin to peer fr'intents
Upon the distant tree; and whiles I hail
Such notions, he sez Winter's in detail
Too young yet, noting he's no hopes for sense.
I was not happy, was I? Just in tour
Seeing how that April haunts the waking view,
Likeas October did one June as twere.
Snow melted by the brief thaw's rain, these blue
Skies oddly wear an eye akin in poor
'Scuse to late March. And really, what is new?
13Jan18
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC