...but I kinda loved that.
It's Been Quite A Downright Crazy Weekend
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXX)
Put on the kettle and sip Barry's hence
Whileas the morning's young, as songs detail
These golden shafts now sifting through t'avail
The slumbring souls with light to banish dense
Night's murky visions frightning sleepers, whence,
Rejoice to see the rolling dale clad, hale
In deepest green, as ducks call 'long the trail
And ev'ry ugly dream is lost to sheer defense.
When I am half asleep, let shortbread fer
All that melt in my mouth and Barry's do
The rest, as ghostly whiffs of steam in tour
Waft up to heavn, where breakfast canna woo
Til I wake up. Pastoral sights bestir
A shade of hope, where LORD, I'll wait on You.
12May25a
Ahem.
Now That a Cold Repast's In Season
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXXII)
To roast or not to roast? That query hence
Where heat impends as forecast nor shall fail,
And I think to forbear, til breakfast's tale
Without, and app'tite, is resolved fr'intents:
For who can now resist potatoes' fluffy sense
Of goodness? Seasoned to delicious, frail
As adding heat, we cant but have t'avail
Us, though tis crazy and without defense.
We're having too much fun, else why in poor
Reply does time have wings, til spare time's through
Ere we had known our fill? At noon bestir
The dishes and our lunch, where all we knew
Is shelved cuz work demands my time as t'were.
Oh LORD, redeem us and have mercy too.
12May25b
...uck.
Where "Help" is Spelled With an "F"
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXXIII)
Late afternoon awash in golden, hale
Warmth and pure sunshine watches shadows hence
Mull growth, late sprung to play upon the dense
Green lawns, like children too young to derail
Aught now, the cam'ra's sheer perception's scale
With nary note of straight oerhead fr'intents,
Til I kin only guess for now at whence.
Rain forecast, yet not but for night's detail.
Oh joy! I fin'lly won a prize! in poor
Reply, I canna access it; they do
Not ever thus delete old info. Were
There aught recourse, what is't?! Phone numbers through
The years may change, but I am screwed. Bestir
Thyself and save me, LORD; how I need You.
12May25c
...would you pick? [Come to think of it, having related my inability to enjoy s'mores since childhood, I think I'm not exactly a fan of sugary foods]
IF You Could Choose, What
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXXIV)
What's my excuse? I have desserts sans sense
Piled up, the joy of sugar sans aught bail
Cuz I, what, eh? Forgot to laugh, avail
Me of sheer happiness?! Have I defense?
I've been too busy working for intents,
Besides which, eating was not that detail
I could rejoice in on the clock, sweets' bail
Had no place for me til done, and lo, whence?
Now that it is the full moon, all as t'were
Is on its ear for crazy notions woo.
Let's wish for cake, not cookies; choc'late's poor
Oh, just because. Tonight such cannot do.
Tomorrow we'll indulge, perhaps. Bestir
In us to seek Thy face, LORD, and wait You.
12May25d
-
Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: May 29th, 2025 09:55
- Comment from author about the poem: It is and isn't what it seems. How's that for a riddle?! Enjoy!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Online)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.