Cheeky Missy
Da Da Dum....! The TITLE!!!
...seriously.
So, Who Called In the Angry Birds?!
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXL)
Alas, the graeckles have moved in, and hence
With awful calls pollute the air sans bail
Where sweetest cries and songs were heard t\'avail
Before. The dove\'s voice \'neath theirs with a sense
Of yonder likeas to my soul calls, whence
Oh teach me how to look, oh LORD. Too frail
For lack of sleep, try no caffeine like\'s bail.
(There\'s allus too much work to do, fr\'intents.)
Clean lo, the bathroom and craft breakfast fer
Us simply: porridge, cottage cheese, and to
Add sweetness, ah, fruit cocktail. Rest in tour
All morning, but can\'t sleep--the skies are blue
And brightly sunny! So much for my poor
Hopes. LORD, redeem us now, for we need You.
05Jun25a
(I used to think I knew, I guess)
Which Part Classifies as \"Valiant\"?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXLI)
The Office finished nicely, AFTER frail
Me laughed mine head off for a show of thence
Pure skill not once, nor twice, but six times, whence
I\'d text it to my friends and fam\'ly, hale
In cheer, so they could laugh. Ah, what\'d avail?
All ends tied off as could be wished fr\'intents,
That saga done, I\'ve lost in tour my sense
Of urgent need to chase more, nor seek bail.
Head full of fancies, ah, but Summer\'s tour
Of long hours meant sich sunny cheer I do
Not sleep, yet lie down for a headache, poor
As watching scenes thus. When all is quite through,
Drag me at length to bed, where sleep as t\'were
Takes oer ere darkness. LORD, how I need You.
05Jun25b
...and we\'ve watched them all in order.
I Have the Boxed Set [of 007]
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXLII)
Did Daniel Craig conclude the Brit spy\'s dense
Career on lo, a sour note naught\'d derail?!
Where double-oh sevn could never marry, hail
Not only wife, but kid, foresworn from thence
Because the villain got him sans defense,
By half. And with the credits scrolling, frail
As all beliefs, is that the end?! Avail
Us nevermore of hope?! Is aught pretense?!
All heroes triumph. Yielding thus is poor.
James Bond must rise to conquer, yet by who?!
They have a list of actors but as t\'were
No date for next production. Come, is\'t true?!
The Brocc\'lis have no plan?! they shall bestir
Just when?! It\'s been how many years now too?
06Jun25a
M\'hm.
All In A Day\'s Brief Hours
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXLIII)
One night of sleep (at last!) to bolster frail
Me, cook up porridge, fry the bacon thence
Our eggs, and finish off the coffee hence
And Kringle, all cuz Barry\'s would avail
Ere I awake, steam tendrils on the trail
Of lost scenes to the present, oh suspense!
Fruit cocktail for our juice, the race fr\'intents
His, lo, I\'d showr and grab the list for bail.
I love to shop reduced. From ice cream\'s tour
To pizza, pies, cakes also, what needs who?
Unsalted butter sticks a prize as t\'were,
Two salad kits tie up the bounty to
Effect, and I\'ve scant time as work\'d bestir
Oernight again. Oh LORD, let us praise You.
06Jun25b
...so there.
\"Busy\" Is an Overused Term Methinks
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXLIV)
The blackbird\'s call like Summer\'s voice, how dense
Cloud fragments wear dawn\'s blushes, pink too frail
As dim foreboding clings to hope, avail
Me how, when I need sleep? Have I defense?!
\"Red in the morning\" sailors\' warning, whence?
Oh, wish for rain if that by this detail
I could go home and sleep, but tis ne bail
Since too much work demands of me from hence.
She fin\'lly made her breakfast hash in tour,
So I must follow suit. Oh yes, and too:
Today. Then Robert drops by with as t\'were
A ton of foodstuffs til\'s all I kin do
To fit it in the fridge, yet oh! is\'t poor?
What fun we\'ll have! Oh LORD, we wait on You.
07Jun25a
Can you?!
I Prolly Could Not Answer That
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXLVI)
Say that\'s why you don\'t think, just do fr\'intents:
From dicing onions, cooking sausage, frail
Yet here, cube, boil potatoes, breakfast\'s trail
To hash with eggs and bacon\'s set. Showr thence
And somehow it is noon without a sense
Of whither cuz I\'ve now a boatload\'s tale
Of foodstuffs to put \'way; then to avail
Us of our vit\'mins, drive off til how whence
Is more a query that fatigue in tour
And lack of sleep press for. Oh, if I knew!
Come, chatter too much, and too freely fer
A spell, til others think me rude? This cue
Of bod\'ly rhythms makes sense, yet recure
Is not in sight. Oh LORD, save me, won\'t You?
07Jun25b