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#yourstruly
as such are ever wont to be. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMM...) Vivaldi took the cake as I'm from hence Stuck with familiar strains 'non waltzing bail Yet in my noggin like there's naught t'avail Beyond. That is, until we get fr'intents Into discussion, and where I from thence Cast off the mincing follies which'd detail My corner for a spell. Clean up the trail To yonder like it can be done for sense. Then lose myself on social media fer The hours left, cuz I shall not yawn much through Them if that lurid glow will be as twere My light. What sorry tales beg I renew Lost memries? Motorcycles are not poor, But drivers now'days are. LORD, we need You. 24May26b
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3d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 12:52 AM UTC
The Dream Is Far too Fragile
Kick me... (sonnet #MMMMMMMMM...) Last weekend was a dream sealed by the trail To Wednesday, whose sheer chill would yield defense For baking that huge tray of cheesy sense Called mac-and-cheese. S'posed to revive t'avail Its essence in two days, erased, detail A diff'rent scene I used to know fr'intents, (And ver'ly wished for then) the space 'tween hence What taunts me now I am, nor own aught bail. I stared out of huge windows at May's tour Of lush and dripping green'ry, like the view Was not a treat t'indulge in, and in poor Reply half pine for those grand scenes anew, Like being content is not cool, is't? Bestir In me to praise Thy name, and to seek You. 22May26a
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3d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 12:48 AM UTC
What Am I Antsying Oer?!
for adventure. And what adventures most definitely follow. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMM...?) I'd wanted THIS, I'd said ere now, whilst hence I'm chafing at the facts, as if t'avail Myself is only granted where's sans bail In my own mind. Have I now aught defense? If I'm not good enough, what's new? Pretense Has taen a hike and I am stupid. They'll All prolly hate me now and I shall fail, Unless, oh LORD, Thou save me. Dare ask whence. Come, slowly I recall now half as t'were The things I used to know, whilst finding through These hours that I enjoy it, til twas poor Complaining. Subway lunch mine grandly too By chance, eclipse all shopping after fer A finish I ne'er dreamed. LORD, I thank You. 19May26
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7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 12:49 PM UTC
Wake Up Like It's a Brand New Day
I'll bet, I'll bet. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMM...?) Let dawn sift feebly twixt the nightmares, frail Yet certain light, where checking texts yields hence A fierce drive to awaken, sans defense Since WHY am I so sluggish? What'd avail? How my perception of fresh tea's loved bail Is skewed, nor can I think, but tis fr'intents From deep within thick fog like, where's defense? If I must scramble back to work, why fail? By Thy grace 'lone, oh LORD, the porridge fer Our breakfast is made in a blink, whilst through The wasting minutes all is tidied; were There else, there is no time left now tae do Aught, e'en to showr, where thunderstorms bestir?! Yet, LORD, Thy mercies, new each morning, cue. 18May26
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7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 12:48 PM UTC
I'll Bet It's Cuz Tis Monday
I don't. (sonnet #ladeedah) Try strawb'rry shortcake for yer breakfast hence, Complete with RediWhip for garnish, frail As erm, dessert for Sunday's fare; smash bail Down with a lid, and drive to werk, for sense, Like joys maunt quite be had 'cept hardships fence Th'indulgence is't? And where it's quiet, hail The merry strains of 'loved baroque t'avail, As if the party may proceed fr'intents. Tis allus been my style; I am as twere From lo, a distant planet, nor the crew Which slogs 'long here. Besides, who knows in tour Where I have been since birth, and if it's true? It is, I can assure ye. Cheer'os fer My infant loves, and LORD, we wait for You. 17May26b
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7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 12:38 PM UTC
I Just Don't Know The Reason WHY
...last night. (sonnet #whateffer) You would have thought that Friday night'd avail With time enow t'enjoy, but I'd fr'intents Far too much then to do, til aught pretense Was perished in the projects' grand detail, From cutting up and sug'ring strawb'rries' tale To crafting more burritos, where from hence This rising in the wee hours leaves me thence Half sick now to my stomach, lacking bail. Grab Hungry Jack and whip up as it were A load of pancakes, eggs, and bacon too In tow, my lunch frae Friday but in poor Reply half eaten. Ask why can't she do It all and get to work on time? Bestir Thy mercies, LORD. Is all of this of You? 16May26a
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7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 12:33 PM UTC
I Did That Too, As Well
back in the '80's.... (sonnet #wouldn'tyouliketoknow) Then wipe my mind til nothing's left t'avail Whenas th'alarm goes off at three. I've sense Enough to know I must get up from hence, But whate'er for?! Where am I headed?? Frail As plans before this day, my slate's detail Is clean of aught. Too late revive plans dense With import, where the time is scant fr'intents, As Barry's wakes me up, til I search bail. Those funky pizzas for our lunch in tour, He DID make pancakes I kin split tae do Us good on Sunday's lighter fare as twere, Yet I'm all thumbs and quite a wreck. I'll rue What 'zactly? Dawn breaks where I'm settled fer The day upon the clock. LORD, we wait You. 10May26a
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7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 12:29 PM UTC
The Church Gave Mothers Orchid Corsages
Don't give me that look. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMM...!) Mum told me many years 'go like for sense, "Yer colour's pink." Once on my own to scale, I found the Mean Girls tee, which blazed the trail To now where ev'ryone wears pink. Twas, fr'intents My challenge on the job for Wensdays, whence Behold it on all sides, as if tis bail. How I just watch the world explode, and fail At being the star, whileas they strut from hence. Do things go south at work, or take as twere A dip because it's Friday?! My feet knew Far better days in youth. And robins tour Until the goldfinch leave. What shall I do? When DID I write the groc'ry list?! Tis poor Or what? A pizza party late--of You? 08May26b
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May 13
May 13, 2026 at 11:39 AM UTC
D'Ya Call It "Having Fun" or What?
[Romans 8:26] (sonnet #MMMMMMMMM...) Ask for mair hours, yet none exist, from whence I settle to hang with the kittens, frail As waiting, to discover late that they'll Give me the half, so I'm back off to thence 'Non scrambling to be on the clock, which hence I am ere long, yet lacking sleep's detail, I'm far too shot to write. Guess I'll avail Me on the morrow? No. The weekend's sense. Oh Nash'nal Day of Prayr, I'm praying in tour, And thankful for Thy mercies, LORD, e'er new Each morning; but for these I've naught as twere, Nor would be here. Midafternoon I'm through, Free til the morrow, wait in vain; bestir A pizza party just us, LORD, of You? 07May
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May 13
May 13, 2026 at 11:35 AM UTC
What Should We Pray For, as Aught?
Go figure. (sonnet #thousands) Erst wont to pen, "eclipse what was," my sense Of all is done for now I'm home t'avail, And in my new fave sundress, though sheer bail, Now waxes thin, cuz how the clock from hence Swears we've less than one hour for aught intents; Besides which, I'm fatigued. Lie down and fail Twixt tasks, but see the golden hours' detail? I canna sleep ere work at this rate, whence? Yes, Peter and his sister fight in tour Oer: me. First Tigger hangs with me, then two Are wrestling; next the big cat's on me fer A spell, til I call her name. Don't ask who Nor why they both stay whilst I nap. Bestir Th'alarm and she'll watch me dress. LORD, where to? 06May26b
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May 13
May 13, 2026 at 11:25 AM UTC
Funny, It Did Not Seem like **** Day
Believe me, I don't. (sonnet #dunno) Watch social media to erm, pass fr'intents The dragging hours, and til my phone lacks bail, To live on others' dreams and sorrows frail, Yet like a flick far better than the sense Which Hollywood e'er gives, as if pretense Is just'fied if's my neighbors' lives I'll hail For some recure, where I shan't post t'avail Aught, cuz my own life's drab and lacks defense. Whole milk, with half and half reduced in tour On Friday, is delicious. Sip it to Determine if it's good, to be as twere In raptures, til hot cocoa's all milk too, The dream of warm milk what'd anon bestir Yawns and the sleepy sense. LORD, I thank You. 02May26b
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May 10
May 10, 2026 at 2:01 PM UTC
Perhaps I'm Just As Good, But I Don't Know
the new rule.... (sonnet #nottelling) Three hours past midnight dawn is far off, hale Black night sans promise of the day from hence, Whilst buried deep indoors leaves no note thence Of what the morning was, where that detail Called "afternoon" reveals at length t'avail A sunny early ev'ning for intents, The burger dinner I'd planned weeks ere whence, And yielding odours nigh to ravish, bail. Is't cuz I am too tired? Lament as poor, That freighted dream of burgers I'd sought, true To form with grandeur in each note as twere, Yet better in the vision than we two Enjoy, I swear. Watch golden shafts in tour Yield up to night, as LORD, we wait for You. 02May26a
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May 10
May 10, 2026 at 1:59 PM UTC
Um, Yeah, It's Saturday, I Guess
Oh well. (sonnet #whocareswhatbynow) Sleep half the night in bed, then to avail Us, half upon the couch, but they from thence Don't give a hoot. Too many apples hence Means sauce, and guess I maunt resist nor fail To craft banana bread, like that detail Wants its revival? Guac needs for intents To be made also; bacon, lettuce' sense With lo, tomatoes: sandwich for lunch' bail. Cut up the cant'loupe; clean the limes as twere Out, losing most, alas; and once 'gain brew A *** of coffee. Drip on this page fer Good measure whileas Tigger, Peter too, Now steal more bacon than I gave them. Poor As all my sins, save me, LORD. I wait You. 24Feb26a
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Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 10:50 PM UTC
I Used To Have an Easy Life
Dunno. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCMX) Mom had translucent skin, like procelain, whence In youth she was laughed at; and on that scale Told cruelly, "you've old lady hands." Twas frail To have a goddess' skin. Alas, why thence Did none inherit that?! If only hence I could have that trait, but I maunt avail Me. Other features were passed on like bail, But porcelain skin?! Twas buried with her scents. I look half like Mom, sound like her in tour, Both on the phone and foot, yet having, too, The finer points escapes me. Come now, were There hope, what is't? She said twas naught, each cue I would possess not worth it, 'cept to stir Me to seek Thy face, LORD, and to serve You. 25Dec25b
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Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 11:38 AM UTC
Why Today Do I Wanna Be Like Her?
Nobody asked and I'm not telling. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCXCVII) We both planned for an early start, but fail, And this despite our seeming promise, whence Thy mercies 'lone prevail, oh LORD, from hence, And I am thankful. Yet wherefore sans bail This odd spate of the trots?! I'll stomach hale Warm porridge, nothing else; groc'ry shopping thence Nigh perfect: or'nges for yes, Christmas' sense Reduced, and Noosa yogurts too, t'avail. I'm even back in decent time like we're On target. Leave for my shift, early, to Be stalled too long cuz who'd smash whom as twere While I was putting groc'ries 'way? I do Not have the time, and fume. Swear that is poor, And LORD, have mercy on us all, won't You? 19Dec25a
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Dec 25, 2025
Dec 25, 2025 at 1:01 PM UTC
Yes, Scrambled Eggs Supreme
You think? (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCXCI) In grade school science' long words' grand detail Like "mol'cule" and "exper'ments" taught us thence That there were labels for this stuff, why scents Pervade, and also now wherefore to scale My gas stove's blue flame flickers and t'avail Turns ornge whenas I salt the oats fr'intents, Ne horses nigh nor neighing for breakfast, whence I guess that's why they taught us, likeas bail. Or? Leave such things and craft a feast in tour, As if twas called for, when none asked nor knew Just how to finish that. I'll bet, though's poor, That science has a reason for that too. Oh LORD our God, how long until as twere All's oer, and we're at last at home with You? 16Dec25a
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Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 10:56 AM UTC
Would Using Beakers Help?
So there. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCLXXXV) It's Nash'nal Cocoa Day, so that detail Is set as twere to flourish, wanting thence But marshy mallows for lo, Robert, whence Pull out the minis frae last year, and hail The joys warmed milk kin offer, as t'avail He drifts off while Four Christmas' plays, events Therein not worth e'en squat to him, as hence I'm laughing up a storm while he snores. Bail? I guess. The guac fresh crafted was in tour A hit, cuz he took seconds. Fritos too, Of course, the doctored pizza not as poor As broken bits might seem, with cheese to woo And pepperoni; it's the kittens' poor Reception. They were brave. LORD, we thank You. 13Dec25a
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Dec 19, 2025
Dec 19, 2025 at 10:21 AM UTC
Yes, Marshmallows CAN Be Romanced
Dunno. [They say, "the brave die only once."] (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCLXXIII) There's mair to say than not, I guess, the tale Of snow cast up in mountains but from thence The grand beginning to a nightmare sense Would shake off, 'cept I maunt.  Try to avail My mind of better 'scapes, and we're sans bail Plunged deeper into roads which don't from hence Exist, vast snow fields faintly drawn 'pon, whence Go drive yer Honda sports car down the trail. Or try.  If fear could just extinguish poor Me, I'd have died last weekend. That won't do, However. Pray, pray, pray, and seek in tour His face, the LORD Who gives to all anew Life, breath, and all things. LORD, come now, bestir Thy tender mercies and save us, won't You? 07Dec25a
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Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 10:55 AM UTC
Am I A Coward, Then???
Okay, well....[typing THIS was next to impossible as I couldn't stop laughing.] (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCLXXII) Late morning I'm too tired for aught the trail Has left; how shall I e'en drive home from hence? Excite me til, in sheer fatigue, I thence Erm, babble, and I am awake nor frail, But saddled with a headache sans aught bail. Had I much time left in the day fr'intents? Erase those plans and drive, drive, drive like whence Could own a brighter day by that detail. If Grandma Bottle rummaged madly fer Us through the bag known as her satchel, to Be like her was the thing, whence I bestir A mess cuz I am NOT awake as due, But trying to be yes, relevant in poor Reply, while they all laugh. LORD, I need You. 25Nov25a
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Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 4:18 AM UTC
Why'd Sesame Street Teach Us?
[Because by now I do not know.] (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCLVIII) The snow is melted, and the lawns from hence Are weary ghosts of Summer, hill nor vale But wearing Winter's faded mien. T'avail Ourselves of dreams, we deck the keen suspense With freighted plans and trimmings for pretense T'admire, with red a focal point to scale, Because the vines which weave chains 'long the trail Are scarlet, likeas blood dripped through for whence. Resort to my bed and the kittens fer All that are here before me. As the two Observe, plunk down to scribble. Both bestir To play, then Peter leaves, and Tigger'd do The time good, cleaning herself. What, as twere Is left? Work piles up. LORD, how we wait You. 12Nov25b
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Nov 30, 2025
Nov 30, 2025 at 9:53 AM UTC
Don't Ask Me What I'm Wearing
...too many decades ere. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCLIII) I gave the kittens milk and cream t'avail Oernight, ere sunrise half aware pretense Is folly, and they'll haunt my rising thence, Two wedges brie what Peter shan't regale Himself with, only Tigger, who would trail Me, riding on my shoulders like twas sense, From ya, the loo to kitchen like defense, As I am sure it is not Monday, frail. If morning stares at me once I'm as twere Upon the clock afresh, tis bland, skies blue With clouds like fragments of the storm as twere 'Non melting off, the fields just green as due For Winter's weary stay, the dream astir Beyond, oh LORD, Thy mercies ever new. 10Nov25a
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Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025 at 12:12 PM UTC
They Told Me I was Spoilt
...from these collected cloud fluffs. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCLI) Now, whileas shadows draw up plans to veil All in sheer darkness, light so fragile hence, Though seeming blinding, grasses lit, suspense Alive as rolling fields wear tan's detail, Trees in the distance silhouettes, th'exhale Too sharp and keenly chill, lawns green for sense As bushes sport dim gold, this game fr'intents Of hide-n-seek with yellow light t'avail. What shall we say? November is as twere Just as we knew it should be, skies so blue The heart'd rejoice the whilst it'd shiver too, Clouds layered and so fluffy, winds in tour Too fierce the promised snow shall come to cure All in pure white. Oh LORD, we wait for You. 09Nov25a
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Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025 at 8:50 AM UTC
We Could Dredge Fairie Tales
Please. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCL) November's woods are stripped, leaves dangling thence To add a touch of colour to detail Sheer Death unmasked, our souls anon bewail; The harping voice within our veins from hence "Thanksgiving Day," as if our last defense Is partying on a scale which'd leave the trail With favours strewn likeas these ornge, reds' hale Bits clinging to bare boughs in keen suspense. Tis cracked wheat sourdough French toast, chill winds' tour Of duty culling rain to spackle who Would notice, snow late forecast like to cure The foolish hopes of better, skies grey to Bring Shakespeare's lines of region clouds as twere To mind, forsaken calm, LORD, waiting You. 08Nov25b
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Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025 at 8:48 AM UTC
Just Leave Me Here to Lose Myself
...your breakfast (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCXXXIX) Tis Monday. If November's trees regale By half and seem late stripped of aught fr'intents, Bare limbs and naked silhouettes what fence The searching glance where fields own that detail Of tan in lieu of green, as yellow'd hail On ev'ry side, though reds still flutter thence Twixt all as if to add a note for sense, I am too shot, nor have a chance t'avail. That huge barn 'cross the fields, which stands as twere Likeas some dream cast up to solace who Could spare a moment just to dream in tour, Is faded, yet half cozened by a crew Of huge trees, til I maunt but look, bestir Fantastic dreams thereby, and LORD, wait You. 03Nov25a
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Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 2:10 PM UTC
Yer NOT Allowed To Swallow
...I guess. (sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCCXXXVI) November's trees are naked, sporting thence But piecemeal bits of leaves, as aught detail Swears that Game Over is the rule sans bail, This riot of sheer crimson haunting hence My path, with yellows aged in keen suspense, And greens foresworn whilst ornge is old, the trail To yonder clearly laid, til I'll avail Me as I can, aware the joy's pretense. Leaves crunch now underfoot, in piles as twere Forgotten by our haste to be anew Both here and there, til nothing's left and's poor, What shall we allus be? How see past to The end of time, where all we knew in tour Is gone, and Thou, LORD, only art our view? 01Nov25b
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Nov 9, 2025
Nov 9, 2025 at 11:22 AM UTC
So, Here We Are Again