Cheeky Missy

This IS\'NT Happening. HOW Can It?!

...I can hardly type this even still.
 
 
 
(sonnet #gofigure)
 
 
One text, and all I had is naught; suspense
Itself is frozen in the notice.  They\'ll
Assure me WHAT?!  He\'s DEAD?! Come, that detail
Can NOT be true. How could it be?! Where\'s sense
In that? Since when? I\'ve nothing now fr\'intents.
I cannot breathe. All that is now sans bail, 
I move likeas a zombie. Naught\'d avail
Nor can I fathom what is: all\'s pretense.
What was I doing ere the news? Tis poor.
But I must go to work. I\'ve no time to
Indulge these most cruel facts, though they as twere
Must be addressed. \"We maunt call off\" though through
This bombshell I think I should do so fer
My other brother. Yet LORD, tis of You?
 
10Mar26b
 
I am.
 
I\'m Bleeding Like to Death
 
(sonnet #gofigure)
 
 
He\'s gone. How many days or hours\' detail
Until I reconcile me to what hence
I canna bear? I want to vomit, thence
To scream and scream, but none of that\'d avail
Me, nor is how I should behave; in frail
Excuse, the Scripture\'s cherished answer whence,
Ergo, why am I tempted thus? This sense
Of grief I maunt assuage denies me bail.
I can\'t go on with living as it were.
Pulled up quite short while partying was\'t? Come who
Shall say how I should go? Thou dost. In poor
Reply I\'m in a quandry: what\'s to do?
How can I live as hitherto?! Bestir
Salvation, LORD. We wait, oh LORD, for You.
 
12Mar26a
 
[Was it a decade ago I decided silence was 100% better than the mindless chatter of acquaintances who do not know what to answer?]
 
It\'s So Very Sick I Want to Retch
 
(sonnet #gofigure)
 
 
My friends crack jokes to draw up smiles fr\'intents,
Tell me they don\'t know, can imagine, fail
At understanding, and I\'m dead sans bail
Inside. The world is cold and empty hence.
Extended fam\'ly want to talk, but thence
What\'s left to say? Go live yer lives. Avail
Yourselves, and I\'ll crawl off to die, the veil
Twixt now and later thinning like pretense.
Who cares that lawns are greening? birds in tour
Are singing cheerful songs, but naught will do.
I cannot smile. I cannot scream. Can\'t stir
The tears I want to cry in buckets. To
Be is a lie. I whimper now. What were
Those things we\'re sposed to be? LORD, I need You.
 
12Mar26b
 
her.
 
He Was Not Ceasar, Nor I--
 
(sonnet #gofigure)
 
 
The Ides of March seemed far less that detail
To reckon with til now, where Death laughs hence
In triumph oer aught joys, and shows pretense
Up as the falsehood that it is. Avail
Me how, thus left behind to what? Where\'s bail?
I do not have a life to live, fr\'intents,
Nor future in this wretched scene. Tis thence
For others, not myself. There is no trail.
Franz Joseph quipped, \"I\'m spared naught!\"--why bestir
His cry whenas I heard the news?! I do
Not know. Bewailing, cry that as it were,
As if twas frae the Scriptures. Why me too?!
And Empress Sissi kept on walkiing, her
Dress soaked with blood, as LORD, seems I do too.
 
15Mar26a
 
Violets, blue violets especially, have for centuries been known as a symbol of mourning for the \"ai, ai\" in saying so...according to Main\'s text notes.
 
You\'ll Never Truly Know
 
(sonnet #dunno)
 
 
Blue violets in profusion, white\'s detail
Half drowning such out whilst just blue is dense
Across the street, oh! I half swoon from hence.
If only I could stop and linger, hail
The lost joys of years past, and lose me, frail
As aught, right here amidst blue violets. Fence
My way for just a moment, and\'s defense,
Flown with the passage, though how they\'d avail.
And\'s April Fool\'s  again, but I\'m as twere
Quite short of pranks to play, whence they\'ll undo
Me in a trice. Erst wont to play in tour
With candies and old tins, I\'m fooled as due:
I swear tis Thursday, cuz I worked in poor
\'Scuse third shift last night. LORD, save me, won\'t You?
 
01Apr26a
 
Do NOT begin.
 
If April Was A Pretty Girl
 
(sonnet #dunno)
 
 
Now blackbirds call with sheer seduction, whence
The grass is green and mown of late, detail
What? For Josiah\'s GONE. What have I? Frail
From losing him, and work hours I need hence,
Yet which are madly \'rranged to leave defense
Upon its ear, I\'m crumbling without bail
Erm by the very hour. Naught can avail
Me, nor should I have trusted in pretense.
All\'s clearly budding, yet I\'m stranded, poor
And fragile as erst wont, dreams perished through
The loss of him, and time\'s sheer wastes. Bestir
Naught, but tis empty, mocking me anew.
How silver puddles wait and shiver. Were
There place for me, that\'s oer. LORD, I wait You.
 
04Apr26b
 
(I Thessalonians 4:14; Romans 8:22).
 
Where Shadows Come and Go
 
(sonnet #whocares)
 
 
She \'vited me to Easter dinner. They\'ll
Speak, as erst wont, of how Christ rose, from thence
My only hope: \"...e\'en so them also [hence]
Which sleep in Jesus will God bring [t\'avail]
With Him.\" Of all the other features hale
In childhood joys I have no use, nor sense
Of now. She hoped, since I maunt, we\'d still whence?
Let this be what she wished in aught detail.
\"For we know that the whole creation\"[stir
Joys in trees budding as charteuse\'d \'gain cue
And clothe their naked limbs, songs as it were
From ev\'ry bough and covert lilting through],
Lo,\"groaneth and travaileth in pain\'s tour
Together \'til now,\" waiting, LORD, for You.
 
05Apr26a