You are allowed to be disgusted and denounce these early hours.  


(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXXII)


Let's talk of scarlet vines which boldly trail
Across this wasteland yellows own from hence,
Orange like a note what'd gaily trim the sense
Of changing leaves, where purple winks in frail
Touch deep maroon knows best, while blues detail
Tinged with ist lavendar?  Green maples thence
On fire that slowly burns their staid pretense,
Ah me, still let us talk of scarlet's tale.
I can do nothing right.  The weekend, fer
Aught hope of dating's here, and I shall do
Time like I dinna care, cuz in a poor
Excuse I'm hard to get.  Swoon over who
Does not but tease whileas he cares, and you're
All wiser.  Shaun.  Why wake me?  I liked you.

21Oct16c

Don't ask me why I conjured someplace in Chicago, I think by Gene and Judes.



(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXIX)


Was't thickets naked trees within the pale
Eye of November guarded with a sense
Of dreary naught, their skeletons black thence
And with such bony fingers grasping frail
Mists' ghostly shadows winds' nigh cruel exhale
Passed through in eerie whispers, that suspense
Culls from auld memries to rehearse from hence,
Which rise before me, haunting which detail?
The question of what's real.  Shake me as twere,
And say I've built cloud castles none shall do
Aught justice to, and bid me look now fer
Brave minutes at what's allus in my view.
Tell me our games were fun but won't endure.
Then take my hand and teach me to love you.

14Oct16c

I don't know what sprouted this mischief, the first 2 lines teased.



(sonnet #MCMLXVIII)


I'll have me fun in solitude as where
No supercilious frown may cast a pall
Upon my gaity, if't must be.  You all,
Who sniff at silliness, can with an air
Of sensible hauteur drink your despair
In prim tea cups, but as for me, grey's shawl
Cast off as t'were, for brief fun, why sip gall
If laughter tickles sans grim reason's glare?
Its in my blood, I think they said, that sense
Of jolly merriment a thread which'd run
From old to young 'mongst relatives, though whence
It came I can't quite guess.  And when 'tis done
I'll sit with you and be too glum, pretense
Of better ways a front.  Don't you have fun??

10Feb13d

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

Hi.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLXXX)


O! did I cherish that more ghastly sense
Of light, how tis gone with the shadows' pale
Forms likewise, blue heavns masked in sheer betrayl,
Nor but this duller blank of nothing hence
Which region clouds own, dead leaves silent thence
Upon these naked limbs, with nary frail
Breath save tis frozen air whose keen detail
They shiver to, as I, sans aught suspense.
Or wait.  Now Paul "likes" me as well.  In poor
Excuse, and for the first time ever--ooh!
I sent a man a "smile."  Now what, as twere?
Let me hear Bach and pick up Shakespeare to
Align half wakened dreams, lest I chafe fer
Long minutes oer vain hope. as none quite woo.

14Jan18b

I could swear the way the men clustered around me after meeting they thought this below was a mere pretty fantasy....and perhaps you alone know differently, Adrian.

(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCIII)


Lo, how I hear the Beatles' cherished scale
Of "Yesterday--" 'non waltzing, like the sense
We know by instinct, though by Shakespeare thence
I thought to ink--what? cycling through the tale
Of prairie grasses blackbirds' rakish hail
Mocks?  Or those blue skies cloud fluffs whitely fence
In lazy, um, battalions?  Or from hence
As Will said, how I feel, likeas t'avail?
When you say "lacy," to ask me if your
Prompt, erm, hit home?  And how I long to do--
Not home-made popsicles, nor when in tour
I lost my first tooth blowing up that new
Um, kiddie pool--but you know.  Is it poor?
Cuz summer's so short-lived, but I love you.

05Jun17b

(sonnet #MMMMMDCCLV)


I swore twas firewerks as morn 'gan t'unveil
What tiptoes 'cross ere thirsty gardens' dense
Half rustling bushes or bean plants, as hence
Rain waltzes, lightning in odd flashes hale
Bouts of deep thunder echoes, where dawn's pale
Eye is not man-made war-games nor pretense,
To disspate when tea's lo, sheer break time, whence
I don't mull sleep-drugged thoughts, but you, t'avail.
That silver tinkling's high pitched voice as twere
Distraction for one line, what did I do?
You're silent, like's passe, when I need your--
Um, what?  I dunno.  Robert, why'd you woo
Me 'til success roosts on the barn's crest fer
Ha, kicks?  Ne compliments, yet, I love you.

06Jul16a

...asking if I'd "--left the kitchen because it was too hot?" as I'd brownies in the oven and dinner warming on the stove.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMVIII)


Lo, nary voice flits through this warm pretense
Whose eye is April's in a trice, the pale
Blue heavns white clouds dim with four geese' detail,
And yes, a silent flock of birds which thence
Fly past, light flashing off their wings, a sense
Of deathly naught held like a notice frail
Warm hours are but a tease, as sparrows fail
To merrly answer, whiles I feign what hence?
Thin nonchalance, just as last night in tour
Where I "performed" sae poorly with a crew
Of local poets at the Lit Fest.  Were
Their kindness not Thy mercies, LORD, what through
Our vain hours should we answer?  Is't sae poor
I cherish 'gain these minutes I once knew?

27Jan18

(sonnet #MMMLXXXVIII)


Men dare acknowledge that the poet's soul
Breathes whispers of his essence in each line,
Thence, wherefore trample it while you define
The means used to convey the precious whole?
They never hear me.  No.  For 'tis too droll
To blindly parse his nonsense out, t'assign
Cold academic measures and divine
But private ecstasies outside his goal.
It is man's genral attitude to feign
A distance 'tween himself and any who
Dare write.  The sheer depths cull this strain?
Yet treading on the surface scants the view
Until we miss the whole's intent.  To gain
Perspective, simply read.  Few know.  Do you?

30Nov13c

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

Can I plead that I don't know how...as poor as that excuse?



(sonnet  #MMMMMMMCMLXXXII)


****** up the tea cups Dad gave me, to thence
Drop all to get a hold of him, t'avail--
His dear initials on those twa cups hale
Reminders of my father, in defense
Of all he's givn me, 'spite my follies, whence
O how we talk in lieu of breakfast's scale
Of nour'shment!  Likeas when we could detail
Each other's eye and face--talk--for intents.
I knew he'd love the Calhoun County tour--
Twas all both he and Mum had cherished through
The years:  secluded, off the grid as twere,
Nor with the city's echo, quite poor too.
It's just the money.  What drove me to stir
Up independence was that cursed thing's cue.

22May19b

Oh well.  This is so ****** fun I think I'll...give up, like Dad sensibly advised.  Yes, I will.  [ah, famous last words.]



(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXX)


Shaun.  There.  Oh me!  How I kin roll from hence
His name across my tongue in sheer betrayl,
To savour those four letters like't avail
Me, his dear voice my heart loves with a sense
Of sweet perfection, blue-grey eyes I'd thence
Look into sans aught knowledge of their bail
Til now it kills me:  muse on each in pale
Excuse, that curly brown hair love--but whence?
He does not know.  And I'm impossble fer
All that, til who despairs?  He likes me too.
Oh tort'rous joys!  For shall he ever tour
These pages and see this?!  Don't ask me to
Be sens'ble.  I am in a swoon in poor
Excuse til dunno when.  Oh that he knew!

21Oct16a

(sonnet #MMMMMCCCLXXXV)


Reft from this earth as Drummond wrote, and hence
Where Missus Browning talked and oft'd bewail
Her own sweet mother's absence, that detail
Of their grief is mine in the keenest sense,
With hours thet drag on tward their vain pretense
I never realized ere.  Nor have I bail
'Cept in the Word of God, to groan in pale
Excuse where Mum can't hear nor solace thence.
Yes, be strong.  Say you're happy for lo, her.
And I feel like a china doll, as who
One rough push shall quite shatter, whiles in poor
Attempts I run cuz we maunt stop, who knew
This is not life, nor here.  Christ is all.  Were
It what?  I pray, but stumble over you.

12Jan16b

You are allowed to guffaw at me, considering what came before this.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLXXXI)


Snow.  Likeas if what, eh? mists' fragile veil
Haunts gathring darkness as white caps from hence
That thought of April in the wings, suspense
Put back to sleep with frozen kisses' scale
Of niceness was't?  Rain's tripping through t'avail
Culled naked lawns in yellowed Death, which thence
Are tucked 'neath that chill coverlid, and whence
Straps on its boots 'gainst crunching forth, hope pale?
Nah.  It is Janry still, and violets' tour
Shall not be guaranteed until the dew
Once more rests silver on green carpets fer
Soft light and warmer hours lost under blue
Skies nary iciness skulks in as twere.
Tonight we'll shiver, glad the furnace knew.

14Jan18c

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

I wonder what either shall think if they see this page?



(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXXIV)


How fuschia peers as from a slit cut thence
Twixt purplish navy racks low on the pale
West houses cluster 'fore in gloaming's frail
Eye, and down in the valley silence'd fence
Lo, neighbors' dogs set up a racket whence
I unpeg laundry that ne winds exhale
Through save by whispers, hoping yet for bail
When I can see Shaun, like tis not pretense.
One headline touted findings of why you're
Too fond of being online.  Well, I'll tell you:
Cuz breathing is more stale than we'll endure.
And wherefore is't that waking to Will's cue
Began this fine divorce from that?  In poor
Scuse I liked Shaun ere and what shall I do?

21Oct16e

It's interesting being argued with to your face regarding getting your work on the market and published.  They are too kindly in my local poetry group at the library.



(sonnet #MMMMMCMXLIX)


La, to my face, ere from a distance' pale
Voice bits and bytes denote, some worry hence
I'll be like mousy Dickinson, as whence
They urge me publish these fraught lines' detail,
Lest after Death seals that font in betrayl,
What **! but shall these perish sans defense?!
Come, let us now observe a winking sense
Of hallowed silence, shall we?  Have I bail?
Where Shakespeare trusted he'd be loved ah, fer
Was that until this earth be done? He knew
Him cherished face to face.  Besides, in poor
'Scuse we but parse his lines or lisp the crew
Of them sans knowing Will.  I'm not loved.  You're
Appreci'tive, and my loves:  I  love y'all too.

05Oct16

...penned sleepily, my my! the title was illegible when I looked at it in the morning...sigh



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDLII)


Blue skies are fragile twixt these icy, dense
White clouds, morn's eye uncertain in betrayl,
That glimpse half peering keenly through as pale
As Febry, though leaves dance for all intents
On maples tinged by ghostly yellow's sense
Of yonder, and they're trimming bushes, frail
Hours stacked like to those clustered houses, bail
The navy racks in tow where warmth's gone hence.
Tweed kilt in purple herringbone and fer
All that tights and a hooded shirt will do--
In grey, with nigh fluorescent yellow's cure
For lack of colour, I watch shadows to
Effect on golden washed green lawns in tour,
And sunset smoulders where dusk swallows blue.

11Oct18b

See the previous sonnet:



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCLXXIX)


I meant to put down shadows 'cross the hale
Face of these sun-washed green lawns blue skies fence
With nary cloud but tis a white puff hence,
How that September'd wink in tow t'avail,
Our hopes of was't vacations? in betrayl
Capped ere yet realized with a haunting sense
Of sheer conclusion, kneading rye dough thence,
Tae whip a sheet cake up like joy's not frail.
Poke myr'ad holes and trickle as it were
The strawb'rry juice in for dessert, and to
A fault I'm drained 'fore sundown in a poor
'Scuse.  So I washed my hair at midnight's cue,
And showered after, to drift off, til fer
All that how Sunday nudges me anew.

27May18a

Um, um, don't let me parse that out yet.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDXLII)  


What of the two espressos long gone hence?
Perfection, as lunch' fine spread was t'avail.
Eclipsed in ya, one phone call, aught detail
Was likewise, 'cept our dinner, or the sense
Of fleeting time I grapple for now, whence
Oh me!  Now Texas winks at me like's bail,
Ten-gallon hats with crueler heat to scale
Than Lincoln's Land, and lo, a man fr'intents.
It's wonderful to be encouraged fer
All that to fear the LORD. I've missed it too
Long now.  To talk together like's not poor--
Of Scriptures--ah, and with a man.  I do
But fear now losing what's sae precious, were
It mine to have.  Ne coffee's like this brew.

06Aug17b

...ARGH!  Hence the title...



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXV)


Spent, ere the fragile chance to what? avail,
Look how blue skies warm in dawn's welcome, whence
Don't roll a single word for aught intents
Across my tongue, jist see, and wonder, pale
As howling oer grey heavns' sheer lack, nor scale
Lo, any bit of this or that cuz sense
Drowned late on Monday night where visions dense
With oh, Victorian airs stole off wee bail.
Yes, when I've but a minute to bestir
My pencil for ah, which detail passed through?
I'm swooning sans a voice yet over her--
That girl whom lit'rature FORGOT, cuz ooh!
She was his mistress; won the world as twere
Because of that keen secret:  I've naught cue.

12Mar19a

Kick me, I smile too gaily for the sparrows these days.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCL)


Now twilight falls upon what was and thence
Sifts out more lucid notes, how silence' pale
Breath hangs oer naked trees until their frail
Stance, like to ghosts half frozen in suspense,
Waits for the darkness sans a voice, though hence
Ah, Mavis' hallowed strains aught thrill t'avail.
Me left alone and whispring in betrayl,
"Oh, Andrew--!" blue skies thicken oer that sense.
Yes, I watched orange splash stone walls left as twere
Forlorn with empty eyes that stared out through
The greyish windows as lo, clouds donned fer
Effect, ah, purple, fuschia winking too
Oer houses left in shadows none in poor
'Scuse shifted.  Come, tell me when he'd not woo.

06Apr17c

My note on this reads:  "shoulda been 01Apr19--begun just after midnight turned"



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXLI)


The Cardnal called as twere for me in pale
Dawn's early light--just once--as if for sense.
And lo, that line I'd penned in tribute thence
Comes to the 'fore--"...I've got [in sheer betrayl?]
A scarlet lover--" which I swiftly hail
With prayrs of "O! please give me to from hence
A man, LORD!" and how April Fools is't? dense
Wi' import finds "him" where I cherish...bail?
"Say twas an April Fool's joke--" in a poor
'Scuse for my prayrs and hopes keeps rolling through
My mind, but I dare NOT write THAT down.  You're
Allowed to laugh. Nor Cardnal, sparrows to
Aught purpose cry...until "he's" gone.  I stir
Me to weak smiles, cuz my heart's weary too.

02Apr19a

Is it pure coincidence my brother had called for my birthday four nights earlier, and instructed me regarding how to know whether a man loves me?  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXXXVII)


I thought of sipping wine, and, to avail
O, nibbling choc'late after hours for sense,
Until YOUR text confirmed the dream which thence
YOUR lies had stoked:  was false.  Now in the hale
Eye of a Winter's dawn where snow to scale
Is piled so whitely 'round, I think fr'intents
Of how but thieves and scoundrels rouse pretense
To mock me e'er anon, and whither's bail?!
We sip the lighter Barry's tea in tour
And talk of sourdough since he makes bread to
Feed all of us cuz my late schedule, poor
As saying, is far too busy.  And I do
Not watch those whitish tendrils waft as twere
Upon my rosy lea, now.  Ah, what's new?

28Nov18a

...the old classic "I'm forever trying to keep ahead of that freight train--"



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXIV)


Lo, peach-kissed fluffy white clouds sailing thence
In bluest seas oer greener Maples frail
Winds softly ply to soto voce's scale
Of whispers on a Friday evning's calmer sense,
And I'm too zonkered to but note from hence
What nudges memries long since past t'avail,
As if Mum still was waiting in betrayl
To talk and laugh while sunset yawns oer whence.
Now but's an hour 'til midnight, hark! in poor
'Scuse an explosion rocks the silence, to
Lapse into nothing.  Is't July astir
Upon suggestion?  O, what matters?  Do
We feel the changes tugging, what's as twere
To do?  Perhaps Joe shan't call.  Say I knew.  

30Jun17c

...yesterday, did I?! Tsk, tsk.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXVII)


Poinsett'yas red for Xmas "cheer," detail
The huge, white snowflake cutouts with a sense
Of all we dreaded facing, tree fr'intents
A green fir Santa's head hangs from t'avail,
I've Irish strains to give the silence bail
As merry jigs in season charm from hence
The dead calm I'd not wake, but why's defense
So dearly wanted like I'm lost? Joys fail?
I know! Tis amb'ance for a party. Were
Such mine t'indulge in, these might as well do
That want of "what's just right" some good. Is't poor
Now I am dying of boredom strangely too?
Put on Tchaikovsky after Celtic fer
This restless sense I can't shake--oh, where to?!

07Dec24b

...in more ways than you realize.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLIII)


Come, wherefore dredge up Tolkien's silly tale,
With that girabbit hard in tow, as hence
The Scriptures count off Ehud and how thence
He judged ya, Isr'el, killing in betrayl
That fat, fat king ole Eglon to avail,
Me seeing lost visions of the shire for sense,
And Mister Bliss' adventures rising whence
I canna say why, to trip 'long as bail?!
From movies of far distant climes in tour,
With savage ninjas, or the sixties too
And student riots, loss, *** as it were
Their capping triumph of that mixt-up view,
Have I a minute to drift off, all's poor--
Yet why see fables when I half hear You?

01Jan18b

Haha, it's funny looking at this now.  L8:  that little email, oh my.


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCXCVIII)


Where midnight'd feign a silence 'til I'd thence
Roll back the covers to at last avail
Me of lying down for good, ah how the pale
Eye of that moon rose twixt those treetops' dense
Black lacework, shivring in a keener sense.
Although we knew twas folly to detail
Aught, how I sent my Joey, like to scale,
Notes on whatever, to shrink from it hence.
Or, no.  I squinted as it peered as twere
At me, the ghastly calm fit for sweet dew,
And rose when dawn's first shafts began to stir.
What are the dreams long since forgot as due?
For if I shrink from building castles your
Sweet intrest culls, will that make all come true?

15Jul17a

08Jun17:  probably Joe is done with me, Adrian assessed; my brother sez it is too fishy: "just forget it/him."



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXII)


How piquant notes of car'mel waft thin scents
Across this hollow silence like t'avail,
'Cept there's none to be had in sheer betrayl;
And blue skies wear soft white clouds with a sense
Of lazy calm winds flirt 'non through from hence,
Boughs nodding lightly as leaves whisper frail
Auld secrets to the listning ear, as pale
Light eyes these shadows which cavort, and whence?
Forsooth.  They talk of la, the wedding, fer
Our questions:  groom was "bro-force."  Hope th'ado
Lasts until death, though couples think that poor
These days.  And I cannot be sick of who
Just toy with me, cuz I'm forever your
Fool who oft use me thus.  Yes, what is new?

08Jul17a

I really wanted to make a more secure case comparing the cardinal to those redcoats of yore, but, ah....



(sonnet #MMMMMMCxxVii)


I have a scarlet lover who, ere pale
First hints of dawn, begins to court, til thence
Smiles and soft laughter thus ensue fr'intents.
His perky voice and deep red coat avail
Long-cherished loves, as I think Brits to scale
So perfect; aye, put on the kettle hence
Tae brew a *** of rosy lea to fence
My porridge, while my cardnal'd sweetly hail.
Wee sparrows are my playmates as they stir
Such happiness as only lovers do.
If Tyler swears he loves me, Shakespeare fer
All that gives me perspective as he'd woo.
Perchance I shall be independent: your
Wish, Baby.  But then I will not need you.

30Apr18a

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

Why on earth did Sunday AM's cosmetic ad tout "erasing dark circles with concealer" when that was what the mirror answered I needed done?  Talk about coincidence, or what?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMV)


O!  Watch that greyish lace called firs' detail
Upon the blacktop gently shift from thence
To playful winds, where pavement is fr'intents
Likeas some chalkboard smudged t'effect and pale
In afternoon's more lazy eye, in frail
Excuse, myself dead tired cuz coffee's sense
I maunt resist last night did punish, whence
"Erase dark circles with concealer!"'d hail.
Who gives a hoot that I look nice as twere
Eh?  None but older men, ungodly too
Seek me.  Old scruples were mair strict in tour
But faithful as the LORD Whose Word is true.
Blue skies are warmly clean of clouds; winds stir
These naked boughs to nodding; and what's new?

11Mar18a

January's thaw was ever wont to deceive even the lacklustre souls with visions of sugarplums was that?



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLXXVII)


How blue dusk fringes that wee chance t'avail
Myself of scribbling...ere we dine.  Spring hence,
Despite frore winds' most cruel breath, tiptoes thence
Within these longer hours of light.  Though frail
Perhaps in guise, yet O! in keen betrayl
Nor with aught joy, my very soul can sense
Its eye as if upon these wastes, til whence
Is only whether next month shall wax pale.
Yes, will ole Febry yield to April fer
All that?  I feel it in my bones anew,
Half shivring to acknowledge what, as't stir?
Ah, wherefore do I shrink from May, and rue
The hope of daffodils and violets, poor
As all my ecstasies therein?  Who knew?

12Jan18b

Whateffer.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXIV)


Smoke like a haunting veil the greener sense
Of trees now sifts through, what are blue skies' hale
Note as how fire licks up the trimmings' tale
Whiles maple boughs just nod, leaves whispring thence
In concert to winds' playful touch as hence
What traffic is speeds past like that'd avail?
Should I dream of gone camping in betrayl?
I'm sold to Joe, where fishing chases whence.
Don't tell me twas a sorry joke he'd stir,
This whiter smoke at intervals some cue
Or screen I should consider as it were.
His eyes lost their mystique when I'd yield to
Those overtures.  Tell me that patience'd cure
The fishy sense whose ghost belies he'd woo.

08Jul17c

This just 30 hours after that initial "Hello, I'm--"...and I can hardly think straight to even compose.
L14 is an inside joke.


(sonnet #MMMMMMDXLIII)


I never had a sister, that detail
Of best friend whom your clothes and secrets thence
Shares ah, my mother.  Yet for our defense
She taught my brothers and I to avail
Ourselves of aye, each other for that bail
As dearest friends than else.  Now for good sense
Whileas you turn my world for aught intents
Quite upside-down--you say we're friends to scale.
I love my friends from poetry as twere,
My brothers dearest as Mum taught, but you?
"What do you mean 'I love you.'?" like tis poor.
Sure, we don't share um, clothes nor lines, but to
A fault you turn me to the LORD.  Love's fer
All that what friends do, and I like you too.

07Aug17a

I suppose we never are.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLVII)


As steam wafts up in whitish tendrils' pale
Dance, likeas figures which cavort from hence
In ghostly silence til the ether thence
Half swallows them--as spirits in betrayl
Taen into heaven ist?  Look past, t'avail
Me of the world beyond this window, whence
See how fir boughs nod to chill breaths for sense
While lo, the Maple's naked yet, calm frail.
This first cup black, we're being good Swedes I'm sure,
And savour all the more what Daddy'd brew
Upon that note.  Remember too as twere
My sister'n'law who'd drink joe like I knew
Old seasoned captains would:  black.  And in poor
Still voiceless naught, the radio chatters too.

09Mar19a

....mebbe cuz I have no lover.  [Wait, Dad oddly did too.]


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCXC)


Soft mists down in the valley ere dawn thence
But twinkle oer these massy treetops, pale
White's fragile ghost waits thinly like a veil
Which masks the greener figures waiting hence,
Whileas we shovel on our ways, that sense
Of romance waltzing off ere I avail
Me of more than sheer notice on that scale,
And ah, who listens for those songs? or whence?
How maple boughs wait sans aught whisper too,
Leaves shifting or half murmring as it were.
You're not allowed to say the flowrs look poor,
Cuz daffodils yet nod where planted to
Be sunshine through July.  I'm losing fer
All that what was it? what few joys I knew?

11Jul17a

...whomever wants it.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCXLIX)


How leaden racks hone caller airs' detail
As rain comes marching grandly through.  Leaves thence
All whisper soto voce as I hence
What? listen to an airplane's voice, the pale
Hours fraught beyond their import in betrayl,
Cuz love and romance weren't my cuppa sense
According to his measures, no.  Fr'intents
"Goodbye." now echoes hollowly sans bail.
Let's know that dreams were only what we stir
To frustrate colder truth's keen tooth.  I knew
That when I tweeted "dream come true" twas poor
Cuz he'll not be mair than a dream.  What do
We, eh?  Nor can aught choclate salve me fer
All that.  The Scriptures comfort.  Let that do.

12May18a

Um, ya, trains again.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXVI)


The train lo, half past midnight, whistles thence
In passing through dead silence none else hail,
Its rumble seeming muffled in betrayl,
As all lie wrapt in slumber for intents,
My sleepy notice--what is't?  Why's from hence
Sae poignant to hear that?  Am I in frail
Excuse long on the empty platform's stale
Reminder dreams have fled, where hope's pretense?
O wherefore does the train's voice 'non bestir
Is that...my soul?  like I aught hearken to
Its call as if I want a ticket--fer
Which landing is it hence?  Or does it cue
Cuz all's a journey--I've ne place here, poor
Though trying e'er to "fit in," enroute to You?

27Apr19b

Don't know what good it'll do.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXVIII)


I don't observe the holiday, as whence
Joe's calling oer this weekend in detail
Meant just that, but did not.  Four days t'avail
Us, lo I see now, signifies good sense
Where Monday is a work day, Tuesday thence
As wont likewise, for me--haha on frail
Complaints of silence.  All 'non waxes pale,
Nor can I figure what, for all intents.
Winds turn the Maple leaves backside in tour
Til white blinks at the gathring clouds thin blue
Drowns warmly in, and I am dull as twere.
My brother's touring Europe now, to do
Whatever good.  I dreamt of fishing, poor
As thinking I'll be yours, Joe: ya, what's new?

02Jul17b

...unspeakable gift." (II Cor 9:15)



(sonnet #MMMMMMMLXXIV)


"They buried me with Mum."   That haunting sense
I'm just a pilgrim wandring in betrayl
These des'late wastes all else call home, sans bail
Despite new clothes, accessries for pretense,
And dearest friends to joy with me from hence
Or weep or who-cares-what, this world to scale
Some dish that wants salt, lacking flavour--they'll
Assure me tis grand--mocks life sans defense.
If Hollywood laughs in the face as twere
Of good and righteous, where designers too
Are filthy past all words and smiling fer
Applause, I'm sans a home sans her.  Then You
Remind me "one thing's needful---" to bestir
Hope that my home, LORD's:  You.  Life.  O!  Who knew?

06Apr18b

...with your beer-laden breath.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXL)


If owly-eyed is cute, then hug me hence.
But all I've got in suitors are in pale
Excuse, erm, rogues; these steal my kisses, frail
As aught retort, "you asked for it!" What thence?
Where did the fellows I knew for intents
Back in my youth go?  Why but scoundrels' scale
Of int'rest now?!  Why pray for love t'avail,
And find the LORD's forgotten me? oh whence?
Meet guys online???!  Yes, laugh so hard that your
Sides ache, and they are wicked like whom to
My face think having *** the fourth date'd cure
Our young relationship.  What shall I do?!
I pray, and rot away.  O LORD, why's poor
I ask for fruit, for children?  Hear me too?

29Nov18b

He told me flat out that he owns me.  Some later date I'll parse that happiness out, I guess.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDIV)


These faded blue skies like to denim, whence
I cull a refrence to "old glory," t'hail
That pick-up with the flag 'non waving, hale
Against whichever backdrop in defense
Of liberty, look placid in a sense;
My voice hoarse from oh, singing's tale,
Cuz Joey plays the drums and when in frail
'Scuse I said I'd sing while he did--what hence?
He said I could sing anytime as twere
For him, and being late worried oer him too,
Cuz he'd download some virus, I sang fer
Relief, oer dinner dishes 'til nigh through;
And lo, when done and listless, what in pure
Yes, mercy?! but he'd call.  I love him too.

17Jul17b

...just arrive at your own perverse conclusion sith that's what academia and its ilk forever do with artists' work.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXXXIII)


If I note that he shoveled in (t'avail)
His pj's, like the man whose showr from thence
Would cleanse all to effect, and thought fr'intents
For lo, the umpteenth year, of how (in pale
Excuse) this exercise can cull to scale
Erm, cardiac arrest, tae think from hence
In looking on that ****** landscape--whence?!
To die in shovling could be sweet...is't frail?
Or rather, I am, mebbe.  Dawn's breath pure
And crisp; to shovel heartning; lonely too,
Why did that eerie thought rise up as twere
Upon the heels of vague concern, to do
Was that a caper in morn's eye?!  And YOUR
Thin protest I'd not die soon...was it true?

26Nov18a

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

The perhaps freaky thing is from the first occasion to the last, the affair leaves me disillusioned.


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXIIII)


They pulled shots on more fancy presses' scale
Of lo, espresso, than we know, tae thence
Pass 'round the little porc'lain mug for sense
And comment.  Bells and whistles to avail
Whomever of sheer grandeur was't? would hail
Their newr machines as ultmate for intents,
Dad sez.  And we rolled 'cross our tongues th'intense
Black tazos, sip by sip, til such'd wax stale.
Fire up the grill, next:  play the epicure,
As now mein host two diffrent cuts put to
Our palates and good taste.  Wine to assure
Souls twas the height of whocareswhat, we knew
Such conversations, laughter, and for sure:
Philosphy.  Problem's:  I can't think what's new.

08Jul17b

(or, what I did 02Mar19PM)



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXLIII)


Crunch M&M's whilst listning to, t'avail,
Karl Lagerfeld on lo, his craft and thence
Why he scorned social media for intents:
Cuz artists need to keep the channels they'll
Use to inspire such feats as we'll in frail
Excuse half worship clear of aught else hence,
Which I have learned ere now in sheer defense
Of this mine own work, whence erm, nod, t'exhale.
Chanel and Fendi lost a master fer
Their grand success these decades, likeas to
Effect they'll never know again in tour,
Methinks.  Ah, Shakespeare, Shelley, long gone too,
Carl Philippe um, Emmanuel Bach--what were
We thinking was ahead?  Mars candy'd do.

03Mar19a

...what half freaked me out was, having been mulling the first line, the thing itself overtook me like it was some wrestling match.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXLII)


Fog manifests itself in headlights, hale
White haunting lo, the black night til, what hence?
How mists oertake aught trying for passage, dense
Naught blotting out the distance like no bail
Exists, until I canna help, nor fail
To thus reduce speed as "password?!" thence
Seems now demanded, so I pray, defense
But Thee alone, oh LORD, Whom shall avail.
If fear was what they wanted, I'd as t'were
A start of it, recalling folk complaining too
Oer its keen essence blocking travel, poor
As mulling how I cherished it, t'would do
Me in now, in a trice, if only. Stir
Vague mem'ries of its courtship like, what's true?

27Oct24a

...he asked to see this...like he so often does.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMCCCXIII)


O how mists clothe the valley like a veil
Which swallows aught in dawn's first light! trees hence
Peer vaguely through that ghostly whiteness, whence
My soul thrills to its haunting touch' detail
In waking; nary voice to stir, winds stale
As Maple leaves hang limply in suspense
Mair keen cuz yonder is quite buried, dense
Naught owns an eye we feel in sheer betrayl.
Did I search out the distant hours as twere,
Or grapple for a vision past this view,
We cannot but acknowledge, lo in tour
Tis hid from our mair "owly eyes" anew.
Fog on the heels of night as darkness stir
To light's tread, how I long anon for YOU.

03Aug18a

and walk in it.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMXV)


O wherefore do I echo Job? to hail
"My soul is weary of my life--" from hence
As ver'ly true and what dogs me fr'intents
Now Mum is not, nor any lover?  They'll
Arraign me for it, doubtless, cuz t'avail
I still have joys, smile for the sparrows, fence
These posting hour with prayrs He'd give me thence
Unto a husband, aye to bear kids' tale.
And come, why does my path dissolve as twere
Each step I take? aught moments passed gone to
Obliv'on whilst my fingers grapple for (in puir
'Scuse) all I seemed to have?  March skies are blue
Sans clouds, the caller breath mild as it'd stir
Trees' naked boughs to trembling, and where to?

15Mar18a