Cheeky Missy
Oh, the Large and Small of It.
On, Oh Yes, the Thirteenth
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXXV)
Tis nary Friday, just a day t\'avail,
The calm of rain whose pall oerhangs fr\'intents
Aught hope of yonder where I\'ve yielded thence
Nor used the ovn, why our potatoes\' tale
Is cold and known as \"salad,\" that detail
Odd for our breakfast, yet quite nice from hence
As sparrows gaily chatter through suspense,
Tea-lem\'nade that recure, should all else fail.
Two blondes peer strangely at their cam\'ras fer
A vid\'o on some get-rich-quick scheme few
Can\'t use to help themselves, though why we were
Supposed to pay these girls I can\'t guess. Do
The math to see it\'s bunk. Be told in tour
Of how cruel some are to the geese. Who knew?
13May25a
Well, it IS, isn\'t it?
Gargantuan Is...Well, A Long Word
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXXVI)
I guess in Europe they\'re all scrawny, whence?
Cuz they eat petit fours; their omelets frail
As them, where ours are monstrous, aught detail
\'Neath Uncle Sam but loaded for good sense.
And Jimmy John\'s to Subway like defense,
Our Jersey Mike\'s is fresh, so order; they\'ll
Be ready. Or lo, craft yer ain; avail
Us now of cold cut sandwich for intents.
With hard salami, saurkraut, corned beef to
Yes, cheddar cheese on rye, and chips in tour:
Potato chips and bread-n-butter fer
Good measure, why can\'t I do small like who
All live in Europe? Is my style so poor?
Amer\'can in aught pore, LORD, save me too.
13May25b
...you know?
The Little Joys in Life are My Adventures
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXXVII)
I\'m having too much fun now, aught detail
A joy, from finding just a lid fr\'intents,
To tidying up the fridge, to crafting thence
Our lunch, what satisfies, as if t\'avail
Me of sheer housework is just what I\'d hail;
As \'deed I used to know years ere fr\'intents,
Life in my father\'s house what I loved, whence
This chance to be myself again owns bail.
How Robert drops by and hangs out in tour,
Yes, seems to like my ornge dress, hugging too
Upon sheer impulse, with a kiss as t\'were
From silly me for that. We hang out through
Brief minutes like I\'d asked, til he in poor
\'Scuse is late for a meeting. Ah, who knew?
13May25c
...yes?
Of Frogs and Dreams, and Whom?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXXVIII)
Frogs chorus in the depths of night whose dense
Murk yields no vision but in dreams to scale,
Lights scattered far and near likeas for bail
Where traffic is the constant noise for sense,
The darkness like a time for rest, if thence
We might, this perch high \'bove the highway\'s trail
So perfect for mystique, where if all fail,
Tis only as should be, for all intents.
So Robert said he\'d whistled, honked in tour--
Yet I ne\'er noticed, though I scanned the crew
Of cars for his. Guess what is rather poor?
Was talking on the phone as I walked to
My place what left me blind and deaf as t\'were?
If it had been at night...who knows what\'s true?
13May25d