Cheeky Missy

Please Do NOT Try To Tell Me You--

Ahem.

Oops, Guess My Jaw Is Hanging

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXIII)

Mists gird the hope of morning with a veil,

Swamp monsters rising from the hollows, dense

White leering at the slew of traffic hence

Whilst none e\'en watches, lost upon the trail

To who knows whither, where I catch their tail

In passing who look blankly at me, whence

I revel in the sights, grass hoary thence

With dew like Summer\'s wont, as all\'d avail.

Two seasons \'neath our belt and aught astir

Afore I realize, my head\'s spinning too

Fast now tis May, the sheer impatience poor

And left astonied in the warming view

As all we cherished traipses gaily fer

The moment ere we knew. LORD, we wait You.

06May25a

I never realized that\'s why we watched that stuff.

Of Carrot and Briar Patches, Eh?!

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXIV)

If Looney Tunes\' theme song\'s the soundtrack hence

For so much of our lives, Bugs Bunny\'s trail

To stardom or an early grave shan\'t fail

Thus either, right?! And Elmer Fudd owns sense

Enough to cream us all, cept we fr\'intents

Escape to laugh; Brer Rabbit owning bail

Whilst laughing at Brer Fox who maunt avail

Him of his prey cuz we all have defense.

So we\'re both born and raised in what, as t\'were?

A briar patch was our stomping grounds, else to

Be certain. that fox will reclaim us. We\'re

All children, only bigger now--is\'t true?

These fables trim the facts til we in tour

Can see to laugh?! Oh LORD, save us, won\'t You?

06May25b

Hmm.

Where You Never Belong?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXV)

My brothers said \"we\'re orphans now,\" sans bail

Whenas our father died, and thus I watch from hence

The seasons pass, a stranger with a sense

I don\'t belong, these blue skies clouds detail

In brilliant white like cotton fluffs t\'avail

Which wound? look down on deep green lawns whilst scents

Waft on the playful winds, and songs trim thence

The thought of yonder: Summer rules the trail.

Leaves whisper of beyond, mists cleared in tour

Now\'s nearly noon, and don\'t ask what\'s to do.

This tent called \"life\" no longer tethered, we\'re

Free, yet too heavy for aught wind. Where to?

How shadows play across the face as t\'were

Of day where, LORD, we wait anon for You.

06May25c