You know?
Why Do I What, Again?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXVII)
From early hints of dawn where none to scale
Seem up, and Sunday's calm reigns, to the sense
Of dullness after soc'al media,whence
I've seen the happy lives all else detail,
And specially Hill'ry Duff, oh what'd avail?
Baroque oer for another week, from hence
The silence of this lonely scene suspense
Has left to rot are all, and begging bail.
The plover cries and sparrows play in tour
Or rather, they all did. Now none seem woo.
Winds ply this page, a crow calls and naught stir
Except likeas folk do in church. I do
Not quite recall how Mum would say as t'were
I should respond to stuff I don't want. You?
11May25a
You know?
Some Queries Maunt Be Answered
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXVIII)
Sip Barry's in the mirk ere hope fr'intents
Of dawn, steam wafting up and shortbread's tale
'Non melting in my mouth as I sans bail
Mull whether you can burn yer tongue from thence
On tea steeped for eight minutes. Is defense
The keener note I'll have once I'm to scale
Awake? He teases me, and I've no words t'avail
Just yet, nor manage to pack all from hence.
Think how tonight we'll sleep at last, is't poor?
Confused because I am feeling great, tis true,
On less, ergo, who wants more sleep? Demur
To talk since I've too much to do; the crew
Of dishes washed, set out our breakfast fer
Today, lunch too, and showr. LORD, we wait You.
11May25b
'nough said.
If Only Twas Not Merely Dreams
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXIX)
From chickadees to goldfinch, which detail?
Blue skies sans blot or cloud, and winds from hence
With early teasing coolness haunt suspense,
The distant hills so very green t'avail
Am I lo, dreaming? Visions rise, the trail
Back, back to whence I came culled like defense,
And how I wonder. Light so keen fr'intents,
All's crisp and richly toned as sparrows hail.
Oh! once upon a time I dreamed--was't poor?
Of far off vistas only seen by few,
And cent'ries ere was it? Through books I'd tour
Such places, whence to see the green hills' cue,
What rears its head to dream afresh? Bestir
In me to seek Thy face oh LORD, and You.
11May25c
...if only I'd a suitor as sweet as my mother's six sons.
This Merry, Merry Dance
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXXI)
Oh! leave it to a man's adroit detail
In rend'ring was't the facts? unto his sense,
If you would heart'ly laugh oer life fr'intents,
Those little things you never knew, sans bail,
What he had noticed keenly on the trail
Who renders all til I laugh loudly thence
Whilst he keeps his face straight. Dear me! What hence?
If I'm bewildered, whither? What'd avail?
Tis Summer and night is a late thing, poor
As needing sleep lo, ev'ry season. Blue
Skies fraught by streaky clouds yet rule in tour
With golden light and now a sense as due
Of sheer repose upon the way. Bestir
Our dinner to what? fall asleep ere's through.
11May25d
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 28th, 2025 09:21
- Comment from author about the poem: M'hm. Enjoy!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
Offline)
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