[It was way too hot a day to cook...we'd (frozen) cream puffs for dessert.]
Oh, ....Sourdough With Which Cheeses?!
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCVIII)
Come, waken my creative side til whence?
But look upon the choice ingred'ents trail
To yonder with an eye for what'd avail
The hunger roused by sheer suggestion's sense.
Turns out the cabbage, sausage hash is dense
With flavour after three days, ham's detail
The perfect touch. Cold coffee, if in frail
Excuse foregone, can stir a headache hence.
Shall we do up cheese sandwiches in tour
For lunch, cuz Starbucks' teasing me anew?
Oh! I want cake! Mixt salad and, in poor
Reply, yes, hoagie rolls with turkey, to
Effect our dinner (he reminds me fer
All that we'd "brunch"), oh LORD, let us praise You.
14Mar25a
...meaning, when I'm half asleep I'm significantly tamer--but that's why you men forever tire women out anyway.
I'd Rather Slow Reflexes, Thank You.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCIX)
The wafting scents of chicken 'long the trail,
Where I'm too sleepy yet, conspire from thence
To turn my stomach as I hasten hence
To work oernight, ne hunger 'longside, frail
As all the others eager to avail
Themselves of food or action, Friday's sense
Alive elsewhere than in my car fr'intents.
Besides, I've packed a lunch, should I want bail.
Three lanes of heavy traffic wane as t'were,
Their foolish sense of was't street racing? too
Much for this time, where's not my style in tour.
They pull 'longside and match my speed, then do
Not but fall back. My uniform? Is't poor
I'm thankful? LORD, be Thou my refuge: You.
14Mar25b
...know: t'was from You.
I Guess I Only Know What I Should
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCX)
How lo, a black-capped chick'-dee's call frae thence
(Sweet mem'ries) lilts as I walk down the trail
In foreign wastes where such joys rarely hail,
Aye haunts the twa blocks to my car, a sense
Of former games in tow, likeas defense,
Til I recall years 'go when t'would avail
My soul sae close at hand, where that detail
Of apricot trees and home were all. Whence?
Forsooth. I swear I saw him day 'fore, were
They nigh likeas the sparrows, sitting, too,
In silence in the naked bush in tour
Outside my bedroom window. If that's true,
What should I know, oh LORD? The mem'ry'd stir
But I can't find that diary page. Where to???
14Mar25c
...as Thousand Island or even Russian Dressing.
They NEVER Owned Such Things
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCXI)
LIfe IS uncertain: eat dessert first'd hail
In fact where we've too little milk fr'intents,
And I am working in the kitchen. Whence,
A bit of milk he murmurs after (frail
As all excuses) is nigh bad, t'avail
Us two of Oreos, where Reubens hence
Are on the docket, nearly crafted thence,
Cuz I'll be busy on the clock sans bail.
My fingers burned from this grand project's tour
Of duty, turns out lo, yer parents knew
Jist how to make all things, and you in poor
'Scuse never kin match up. All that I do
Does not taste half as good as theirs. What were
We 'sposed to do in their shoes? Wait on You.
15Mar25a
...a pure diary page.
Don't Ask Me Where I Am Now
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCXII)
The black-capped chick'-dee's call as thence
I'm back home, leaves the dove on that detail
Flying off where robins scold. Car washed t'avail,
(I've a subscription), morning young fr'intents
But fully here, I cannot nap from hence
Ere dawn by now, so should craft breakfast, frail
Though I be on the note of third shift's tail.
Ne eggs cuz tis too tight this week. Ah, whence?
Somehow with breakfast hash and porridge' tour,
I halfway drift off, afternoon sans blue
Heavns wearing lo, the stormy mien as t'were
Of last night where we waited blackout, to
Be thankful it passed oer with blustring. Stir
Me to craft Reubens, and LORD, I'd praise You.
15Mar25b
...don't look at me.
I Never Did Like Wordsworth's Political Work
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCXIII)
Too many years ago the talk to scale
Of "cell phones" owned but Blackb'rrys for intents,
And was a dream of yonder not all thence
Could realize, where the "cold war" swore the trail
To any future would be sans aught bail
'Cept freedom was derailed, the "commies" hence
Keen spies who'd access to our land lines, whence
The talk was of which speeches to avail?
They killed off Kenn'dy cuz he swore in tour
They killed off Kenn'dy cuz he swore in tour
To tell us all, yea, damned McCarthy too.
But that was 'fore my time. Now all that's poor,
I'll post online, to find me barred sans cue
Cuz wherefore, eh? Go "clear yer cache"?! We were
Such fools to cast off fears. LORD, I'll wait You.
15Mar25c
-
Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 17th, 2025 16:03
- Comment from author about the poem: Less is better than more, yet... Enjoy?!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Poetic Licence, aDarkerMind
Offline)
Comments7
its always confused me on how these should be read but i can never seem to line up the words with the music. is it by sylable each note for each syllable. because i would love to be able to participate with the fun and amusing poems you write
First off, you read every single piece of poetry aloud. That's the first rule of this genre. Second, you might find it helpful to hear this read. I haven't read these above aloud and recorded it. However, I do have a recording from years ago when I made a recording of myself reading one of my sonnets because, of my three instructors in writing sonnets, one requested I record myself reading one of mine aloud for him. He was apparently sufficiently pleased with the recording. If you want me to try to give you that, let me know. Third, either way, casually read along *following the punctuation* NOT LINE BREAKS. Syllable counting is often used, but the proper terminology is counting "beats," since this form dictates 5 weak beats and 5 strong per line: weak/strong five times. The rhyme scheme is rather tight as well, with only 4 end rhymes in the toughest form. Once you're confident in any pursuit you can dabble with tweaking it, and there isn't any sonneteer in history who didn't tweak sonnets, that I'm aware. I would dearly LOVE to have you and every poet and poetess have fun writing sonnets. But I've said too much. Did it make any sense? Was it at all helpful? Thank you so very much for your sweet comment.
this is very helpfull i just dont understand the diff between a strong beat and a weak beat.
like the main tempo and the secondary tempo?
Your username is a good example, only doubled: "a/PO/ca/LYPSE".... the lower case letters are the weak beats, while the capitalized letters are the strong beats. Does that example make sense?
thats what i assumed alright yeah that makes sense
Here you go again making me hungry. Full of details this poem has great images. Good write
Great sonnets, dear Sovereign of Sonneteers. I was going with queen, but sovereign is far more alliterative with sonneteer! Ah. Choices! 😂🤣 Seriously, though, more scrumptious sonnets that satiate and soothe the soul with sourdough, cheese and oreos, oh my!. And you are teaching the good craft to others too. Double win! Happy Saint Patrick's day to you, my friend! Really well done on these!
Thank you so very, very much dear Tristan, you're entirely too generous. Belated Happy Saint Patrick's Day to you likewise. Thank you again.
You are most welcome, dear friend!
That was like reading a whole chapter of a book!!!, thankfully i didn't do it on an empty stomach!!!, every enjoyable
Thank you, thank you thank you so very much! I'm so glad. You're too kind. Thank you again.
You are very welcome
tempting as indeed it darn well is to ask, nay .. beg for more, like good old Oliver Twisty .. I fear if I did, I would likely burst .. thank you kindly for assuaging my sonnitory needs .. my bloomin appetite it momentarily sated .. Neville
Thank you, thank you so very much, dear Neville! "More later--" perhaps, as one of my brothers used to qualify foodstuffs too many years ago as a child. Thank you again so very much!
Nicely done, Missy. Another selection of fine pieces.
You're too kind, Tom. Thank you so very, very much!
well, I read out loud, as suggested.
and here I am now, singing your praises.
grab the mic, and sing along with me!
who was it who wrote 'this species has amused itself to death;?
am not dead, but highly amused;
[https://youtu.be/-ayc7PxjoHw?si=5QkCiRb0apnKTcNv ]...Roger Waters? Now you made me do it, what shall I answer? Thank you very much, Sir, for dropping in and graciously commenting so kindly. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
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