Cheeky Missy
Who Said I Had Anything to Add?
yesterday, did I?! Tsk, tsk.
Got Spoilt By Working With Others
(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
...too many years ago, methinks.
My \"Well Child\" Book Got Tossed
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXXII)
Roll \"maple Jimmy Dean\'s\" \'cross yer tongue, thence
To savour that for breakfast where t\'avail
Is when you\'re wrecked by third shift, its detail
In rolled burritos grand, like in defense.
Go pick up a T-Mobile glass fr\'intents,
That book I ordered mine now too, for sense,
Til crafting stir-fry for our lunch lacks bail
And is our dinner, where the dishes\' trail
Seem to ne\'er end; oh, what was sheer pretense?
Our three square meals shan\'t be today--is\'t poor?
What am I doing wrong? I meant to do
It all just right, but who cares now as t\'were?
We\'re all adults, not growing kids--we threw
That out when schedules would conflict? Bestir
Good sense and I\'m bereft. LORD, save me too.
10Dec24b
Tis Allus On a Windsday Pooh Said
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXXIII)
Port wine infused cheese ball for that detail
Of breakfast omelet is like what, fr\'intents?
A sheer indulgence after lo, defense
In erm, espressos, til to thus avail
Us seems to want some excuse or else lack bail.
Winds howl just past the windows with a sense
Of bitter airs and snow the forecast dense
With import said would be, light ver\'ly frail.
The darkened hours sift through their paces fer
A sense of flavour til I think tae do
That twilight good by lighting up in tour
Our tree ere nightfall, yet do not. Oats strew
Themselves all oer the floor, despair astir
Til cleaned up, and oh LORD, how I need You.
11Dec24a
I Set the Trends But You Don\'t Know Me
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXXIV)
It is not golden light which streams in hence
T\'avail the soul, yet, quite as if there\'s bail,
How shadows flirt with yonder on the trail
To whither as winds rattle all, suspense
Half chewing off its nails and on the fence,
Where chill swears it is king as aught detail
Now shivers \'neath is\'t pure blue heavns? grass frail
Yet green cuz snow did not pass through. Ah, whence?
Watch gloaming venture nigh like what, as t\'were?
I never could sketch \"still life,\" though I drew
Up dresses, capri pants, and outfits fer
Yes, what effect? Why did they trend, yet to
Be certain, I\'d not e\'er submit in tour
Aught of my grand designs. I\'m nowhere too.
11Dec24b