Sorta, kinda, mebbe hope so.
Once Upon A Sunday, Is't?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCLXXIV)
Not where the golden afternoon slides thence
To early ev'ning, nor where shadows trail
Across the face of sunny hours to scale,
But when that orb sinks 'hind the houses, dense
Grey swall'wing aught we had in nightfall's sense
Of closure, then, my soul, find words t'avail
The page, as all sights fading beg for bail
Which I had promised me like in defense.
Expansive heavns so pure and blue, winds stir
In rough but playful fashion aught in view,
The thin woods waiting leaves forsythia's tour
Likeas a beacon 'fore, the fragile crew
So patient as all waits for life as t'were
To man'fest, April with such treasures'd woo.
06Apr25a
I've a penchant for...fun.
Please, Don't Say It Is Too Much Fun
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCLXXV)
Put on the kettle and have Barry's hale
In that recure I want, the shortbread thence
Within my mouth half melting 'way as sense
Clears and those ghostly whispers' sheer detail
Fades in the light of morning on th'exhale
From me? Pull out the shredded wheat fr'intents,
Those "biscuits" perfect for the sweeter, dense
Mixt cer'al and cold milk, likeas t'avail.
If Robert waited til last night, we'll do
All ere I leave for work today--is't poor?
Pack all into the stuffed fridge, dreaming through
The foll'wing hours upon the clock as t'were
Of all the fun we'll have, like to bestir
Now mango smoothies?! LORD, let us wait You.
06Apr25b
Was that only an American show on NPR?
It's Like, "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me"?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCLXXVI)
Watch fam'lies hug, take photos, parting thence
With fraught goodbyes, the beauty aught detail
Holds in their faces, as to just avail
Me watching people yields such joy fr'intents,
Their happiness mine likewise in a sense,
For are we not all in this lo, to scale
Together, eh? And have I now dear bail?
Have we chance to just live in peace from hence?
Let night waltz in upon that note as t'were,
Where e'en white dressed souls feel so free they do
Half set up their own party after, fer
All that, now dancing in the lot on cue
To their own music, til I head home; poor
As all that, they'll leave too? I'll be. Who knew?
06Apr25c
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 14th, 2025 08:47
- Comment from author about the poem: Haha, what better thing on Monday morning, eh? Enjoy?!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments4
Sonnet queen you have given three more wonderful poems to carry us on to a new week. Lovely
You can feel the enthusiasm and positiveness in your writes, it is a pleasure to read them
Thank you, thank you! You're entirely too kind and sweet.
You are very welcome
How can Shredded Wheat, in any form, be too much fun?!?! My tummy is hungry now for some of those "biscuits"! 🤣 Well done on these, Missy. Another fun string of strong sonnets. Always look forward to them. Happy Monday, my dear friend! 🌹👏
Hmm. A child of the 80's, there's nothing like a morsel from days past when life was a dream we eagerly chased. Like good home cooking, it's a treat to have those "biscuits" in cold milk. Maybe you have yours with Silk?! Thank you so very much for engaging with these and your sweet commentary, dear friend!
Indeed. Yes, Silk among others. 😉 Of course, growing up it was 🐮 milk all the way. You are most welcome, Missy.
Tremendous work.
Thank you.
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