M'hm.
Don't Let Me Dare Ask WHY?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCLVII)
He picks me up, though we're just friends, the trail
To yonder cloaked by mists whose sheer suspense
Has worn itself to naught, for tis pretense;
And we have fun when he hangs out t'avail
Us of a chance; yet facts prove no detail
Shall do from henceforth, hope without defense
As Mozart waltzes through my noggin hence,
Where seems chagrin laughs, cuz it'd never fail.
And Cynthya slept in, quite forgot in her
Sheer ease that I'd been up since four, nor knew
Aught, though I told her oft, and calls in tour
When I am nigh asleep. What do I do
That all surround me with ease as it were,
While I work me to death? LORD, save me too?
31Mar25a
'Nough said.
Where "Me" Is Just Not Good Enough
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCLVIII)
We argued oer the bacon til I thence
Can't find the slice, egg, pita, hummous trail
To breakfast with tomato chunks t'avail
What one man calls a meal, my porridge hence
A second, apple slices, grapes fr'intents
"Another," where I thought it one, detail
How Daddy used to say the same, sans bail
Is it, regardless aught? Have I no sense?
Oh sure, I love to eat, yet sorrows cure
My app'tite til I fail at meals and rue
The spread; or what is't? French toast sticks in tour
For coffee, I can't lose weight, nor try to
With any effort. Fast, to binge? What's poor?
That I still think me fine? LORD, I need You.
31Mar25b
so many fun days come "but once a year," you know?
What Day Is This Again?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCLIX)
Night sweetly chill, how dawn is glor'ous, frail
Though I be on but four hours' sleep, and hence
Unrolls vague hints of blue heavns with a sense
Of its expansive joys; the sparrows hail
Likeas to purpose, where each last detail
Seems to rejoice, Thy mercies, LORD, defense
Enow as we wait Thee. Wish all fr'intents
A "happy" April first sans pranks for bail.
Discuss wherefore twas labeled thus in tour,
And be then humoured for my "twisted" view,
The lies our parents were taught not as t'were
But very truth, though Shakespeare's lines unto
Them, as these hol'days likewise. What is poor
Is that I'm too insistent? LORD, we knew.
01Apr25a
M'hm...too fun, eh?
Of Pranks, Spoofs, and April FOOLS
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCLX)
If Woodman's Markets pulled for all intents
An April Fool's prank, oh! but t'would avail
Us all of laughter, cheeseheads on the trail
Of humour where Wisconsin proves from hence
They know a thing or two in sheer pretense
And style, til we can't help but laugh to scale;
My own too feeble on that score for bail,
E'en Facebook posts spoofed--astronauts for sense.
On other fronts, cook up the beef in tour
With shrooms aplenty, onions added too;
Then try to cut across the grain as t'were
For stir-fry, proving that might well undo
Fair hopes and be a spoof on me, is't poor?
We'll have our dinner party til late. You?
01Apr25b
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 6th, 2025 19:35
- Comment from author about the poem: Hi again, it's me. Enjoy?!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
Offline)
Comments3
A banquet of various foods from French toast to mushrooms and onions an April fools food fest. Can't get food off my mind. Well written Chic
Enjoyed with much pleasure 🙏🏻🕊️
Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!
Most welcome 🙏🏻🕊️
A banquet of delights to entertain the masses on April fool's, enjoyed the reads
Thank you!!!!
You are very welcome
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