*NO sirens either. Weird, just REALLY weird. Aha! Friday the 13th! The vehicle occupants were long gone by the time I got to the intersection at 0031.
Oh, Five Hours Later, Who'da Guessed?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXXVII)
The question is [I've said in sheer betrayl
A thousand times] when DID the crash fr'intents
Occur: BEFORE or after midnight? Sense
Too keenly knows twas Friday?...that detail
"The thirteenth" what would augur twas sans bail
Ere Sat'day. Three cars wrecked like, WHAT?! as dense
Night seemed to bury* wreckage strewn from thence
Oer three lanes which p'lice guarded, to avail.
Derailed in passage when I'd no time fer
Aught dawdling, nor e'en sleep, what could I do?
Think fast and find another way home, poor
As less than three hours for bed now. I knew
No shock, just wonder oer a scene ghosts were
Was't haunting? Or what's really therefore true?
14Dec24a
Not only forced to work a different post on only 1 hour's sleep, but also thrust with an insane pile of oddities demanding my assistance, until I'd less than nothing left.
My Wildest Dreams Ne'er Knew
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXXVIII)
What, as I've one hour sleep and skies lost hence
To region clouds whose ripples wear the trail
Winds cut, and look like worn out fluff sans bail,
The dozen doughnuts GONE, and lo, defense
Nigh flown as well, since I must work late, whence
What WAS I thinking ere? Bed, to avail
Mine eyes now squinting in the fragile, pale
Eye of faint day chill skulks oer in suspense.
I'd laughter with a waltzing sense as t'were
Of fun, which now are where? What shall I do?
How troubles add up til I am in tour
Besieged where none should ever have passed through,
Like lack of sleep is tops. Oh LORD, bestir
Thyself. Spare and redeem me now, won't You?
14Dec24b
Now, you ARE well aware the title alone is more than what it appears, right?
Rain Falls So Gently Now
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXXIX)
Search high and low for which most keen detail?
The strains I dearly want to pair from hence
With my late stanzas, like tis no pretense
Oft stoked to cheer us for a spell, t'avail,
Whilst yet tis empty, as we waltz in frail
Sweet joys. Oh, heartbreak haunts me as defense
Is neither herein, nor these notes whose sense
Tricks out my minutes in grand style, like bail.
How Robert laid me naked before her,
Til he maunt say all she knows--I ne'er knew
A man could be so cruel, whilst kissing fer Effect me whom he flayed. What did I do?!
Shall I forget in cherished strains as t'were?
If only I could, aye. LORD, I need You.
14Dec24c
Am I failing to acknowledge something?
As If My Own Life Wasna Bad Enuf
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXXX)
Don't tell me it's not sin'ster, as from hence
A black cat, hackles raised, leers on the trail
At passersby, a Santa hat's detail
Upon its head. What is afoot, fr'intents?
I'm not the only one who knows? For thence
We've ably paired ole Hallows Eve in frail
Excuse with Xmas, til, what shall avail,
Or could? Twas allus evil. Where's defense?
Tis only folk whose fav'rite season'd stir
Twa months ago, naught more. They trim on cue
To celebrate the ill which haunts in tour
Aught hol'day, where to know is nothing new.
If evil haunts my ev'ry pleasure, were
There any hope, tis, oh my God, just You.
14Dec24d
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: December 15th, 2024 14:37
- Comment from author about the poem: So, yes, no less than four...in one day too, and to top it off, on an overstressed soul with only 1 hour of sleep and 13.5 hours on the clock, etc., crazy fun, right? Enjoy?
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, cellinic
Online)
Comments3
Many a trouble enfrented four stories invented Deprived of sleep helps delusion's muse to creep into one's ink and from there to link all one's got into one thought. Then with some trouble double and again double the number of poems sent to poetic side homes. Another difficult day ended with fun poems. Nicely done.
You are a bloomin credit to our species sister .. how on earth you are still standing is a mystery unto itself .. Such excellent scripting is, under the circumstances beyond me and otherworldly .. straight out of Friday the thirteenth for sure and I'm not in the teeensiest bit superstitious by gum .. Neville 🐦⬛🐈⬛🖤
Friday the 13th earlier this year was even more wild, to which the sonnet I wrote that day alluded. The idiocy is my tendency to be "...too superstitious, --"(Acts 17:22). Mercifully, yes, survived. Thank you so very, very much, dear Sir.
That's why the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath!
Ah, thank you very much!
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