Either way, perfect autumnal color.
Or Is't Mum's Marigolds I'm Thinking?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXXXVIII)
Or'nge mums in planters at the entrance hail,
The leaves yet ling'ring on few trees whilst hence
How gloaming 'non encroaches as suspense
Half deepens like the colours whose detail
Grey turns to naught where pink romances frail
Bits of cloud fragments ere these blue skies thence
Fade out of being. Yet oh! how silent! Whence
Night seems to swallow all as lights avail.
Tis Friday, which I thought owned plans as t'were
For souls, but being upon the clock would screw
That auld perspective is't? Tell me tis poor?
Drive to the groc'ry store, yet never, to
Effect, see what I'm missing. Am I? Stir
Hope in the LORD alone. How I need You.
25Oct24b
These shifts are killing me. Oh well.
Ask Me Tomorrow, Pls
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXXXIX)
Where pink is like romance ere daybreak, dense
Wi' import, burning on the East t'avail,
A fire which seems t'oertake the blackness, hale
In what, precisely? youth by now pretense
Is't? On but three hours sleep, I've no defense,
This dragging me along must do sans bail,
As coffee is some dragon I'll to scale
Do battle with when I've some strength for sense.
Tea-lemonade for drowning sailors'd cure
Me halfway, if at all, where Milo's brew
With "Simply Lemonade" I'll take in tour
Along to keep my chin 'bove water. Blue
Heav'ns warm as sparrows chirp likeas to stir
The dead (and I'm death warmed oer): I need You.
26Oct24a
...guess I'm still here.
A Stranger Sans Aught Home
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXL)
Oh me! What is't about these hours' detail
My heart so dearly loves? Where naked thence
Stripped skeletons of trees cast shadows dense
Wi' subtle import on the green, which trail
Leads to the thicker stand whose yellow tale
Calls to my soul as from afar, defense
For cherished hours, plaids, woolens, stockings hence
And dreams whose sights October'd e'er avail.
November's in the wings like cozy'd stir
Itself agin to welcome me home to
Which bosom that it thrills me now in tour?
Oh cherished niche of girlish hours spent through
The years safe in my father's house! Demur
Not to reclaim me, stranded graveside too.
26Oct24b
[A proper thread of linked sonnets sports the concluding line of each previous as the first line of the following, but these by contrast show a continuum of thought sans those characteristics.]
...will you?
Just 'Gin to Cite Off All Thou'st Lost
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXLI)
They photographed their baby girl whose sense
Of running water was to grapple, frail
As aught excuse, for lo, a handhold, fail,
Yet keep on trying, the faucet no defense;
And now she's left behind, this grasping hence
To just retain whatever slips sans bail
Betwixt those clutching fingers maunt avail,
All like the liquid water, mere pretense.
Lo, watch light trickle out as gloaming'd stir,
But one month til I'm fifty...is that true?
What had I here, whom held I close, in poor
Reply gone far from me, despite love too?
Oh LORD my God Who changest not, in Your
Hand tis to give and take, all I've of You.
26Oct24c
-
Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 27th, 2024 08:56
- Comment from author about the poem: Don't have too much fun with these. I know you won't. The video is from a YouTube user I've followed for some time now since I'm crazily fond of Great Britain. Enjoy?
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments4
Too much work makes Cheeky tired and sad. Thanks for sharing the everyday toil of the working.
I will ask you about Mum's marigolds, If I can remember...tomorrow seems such a long way away..... promise I'll try...
Thank you. She fringed the [vegetable] garden with them too many years ago and I loved watching the butterflies enjoy them. It's been nearly 9 years since she passed away, ergo it's too many years ago. Thank you again.
You must get through one helluva lot of quills Missy .. here's another three feathers in ya cap .. Neville
If I used quills. Since there's the haunting little errors we perennially must grapple with, and since I never did appreciate using pens, despite school necessarily forcing me to graduate from the lowly pencils to ink, I buy up and both utilize and break so much pencil lead, a mechanical pencil my quill. Thank you very much again for dropping in, Sir.
' Sorry Missy: I lost your comment on my latest post - apologies.
Argh!
You were kind to go back. Many thanks
But of course. You're very welcome. My pleasure, Sir.
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