Cheeky Missy
If Only Superstitions...What? and then, These Cherished Hours\' Slow Waltz with What ARE You Dreaming of Again?
I\'m clocking in and preparing to head for my post as they tartly inform me all\'s down, and mulling that, realized and replied, \"it\'s Friday the 13th--what did you expect?!\" And all ruefully laughed.
If Only Superstitions...What?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCCLXVII)
If I forgot the day, how all from thence
Reminds me is\'t? The system\'s down sans bail,
Where Friday is \"the thirteenth,\" whose detail
Means naught \'cept an excuse for ill from hence?!
The day is Thine, oh LORD. The evil sense
We canna shift\'s reminder to avail
Us and redeem the time, lest we too fail
Before Thee, Who gives all things; our Defense.
I only knew twas Friday, ere in tour
Werk blew all out of course; what shall I do?
Somehow where shadows sweep across as t\'were
In play, the weekend\'s sense of freedom to
Effect in tow, as most leave early, poor
Though feeling carefree, LORD, how I need You.
13Sep24
Dang! Mid month already...Autumn is slipping through my fingers yet again.
These Cherished Hours\' Slow Waltz
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCCLXIX)
Now dead leaves gather into piles, a sense
Of even Fall\'s denouement, like to scale,
Thus hard in tow, where yellow haunts the tale
Of massy trees red subtly murmurs hence
Frae, warning that the fête will, sans defense,
Be oer far sooner than we liked: avail
Me now?! I am too busy, tired, sans bail
As ever, with a fainting heart. Oh whence?
The hymn \"I\'d Rather Have [lo] Jesus--\" fer
Direction, circles through my noggin, blue
Skies fraught wi\' torn white streaks where winds bestir
The changing leaves to whispers. Aught we knew
Is slipping twixt our fingers \'gain. What were
We in, that aught undoes us? I need You.
15Sep24a
Vain. Yes, you may label me that, yet have mercy?
What ARE You Dreaming of Again?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCCLXX)
Mine auburn tresses still glint red t\'avail
In fragile shafts of golden sunlight, whence
Their salt-and-pepper sprinkling seems fr\'intents
A notice of what is, heav\'ns\' eye th\'all hail
Late needed to display mine Irish? Frail
As lo, my temper with By Dand for sense,
I\'m Sco\'ish, yet sae Norman, my defense
Thee, LORD; put these up, and I\'ve Swedish bail.
Croatian to add flavour, what, as t\'were
Is left t\'unravel aught we swore was true?
If only meekness and humil\'ty, Your
Fear likewise, LORD, reigned in me likeas to
Ensure I\'d walk, LORD, faithful \'fore Thee. Poor
Though fleshly weakness, all I have is You.
15Sep24b