Yes, I Cherish That Mystique
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCLXXXIX)
They'd forecast thick fog, yet that fun detail
Was elsewhere, if at all, mists fragile thence
As dawn began to warm, nor but ghosts, whence
I sought their essence, to find naught'd avail
Here where this perch on high leaves all to scale
In view, the hollows of swamp monsters' dense
White forms far, far from here, and but pretense,
As aught unveils a brand new day for bail.
Change and put on the kettle as th'impure
Light is a golden, sheer conundrum, blue
Skies with such songs in tow, whilst calm as t'were
Reigns likewise, hope of all erst promised through
The ages, as steam is the warmth astir
On ev'ry sip, while shortbread melts anew.
14May25a
...it's a loooong story.
The Crapper Was Perverse, Eh?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCXC)
The toilet flushes, to die after, whence
Call for a plumber is't? for that detail.
And Rick comes, for the first time to avail
Whenas I'm home, yet needing sleep fr'intents,
What use is that? What was the issue thence?
Or what the grand repair? Who knows? I fail
Or fin'lly locate half a chance of bail
And needed napping, til who can say hence?
She said the Telly had no movies fer
Indulgence worth the viewing, so we two
Went through her own collection in a tour
Of mem'ries, my suggestions, and the cue
Which took the cake was "Dave." She'd fun astir
For lunch while we'd a cold cut sandwich. You?
14May25b
...can't say whether I
have, certainly.
Ever Seen A Chicken Sans Its Head?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCXCIV)
Make plans, my Thursday headache gone from hence
By dint of Barry's, shortbread melting, hale
In sheer delicious comfort like t'avail
Within my mouth, the nightmare passed fr'intents,
With darkest night as morning seems from thence
A hopeful dream I finger, aught detail
More mild as songs warm merr'ly 'long the trail,
And tea is that recure which owns defense.
Craft porridge, fry the bacon gently fer
The last time, eggs quite soundly crisp like's due,
Tomato wedges 'longside, and in tour
Get called to pull a diff'rent shift, LORD, through
Thy mercies, truly, whence drop all as t'were
To showr and groc'ry shop. LORD, I thank You.
16May25a
...M'hm.
They Tell Me What, Again?!
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCXCVI)
Light comes and goes with such speed that suspense
Hides in a corner whilst these games avail,
As if the clouds or light are children, frail
Though such suggestions, hide-n-seek fr'intents
Now racing 'cross the face of day til thence
I see what looks straight at me sans a veil:
How Autumn winks through May's new leaves, the trail
To yonder op'ning out, as if what hence?
We feel it in our bones and say so too,
The year has wings and is nigh oer in tour
Ere we'd a chance to have our fill. What were
Our plans that we're caught unawares? Where to?!
It will be xmas ere we know. Is't poor
We thought we'd time? LORD, ransom us, won't You?
17May25a
...were NEVER as happy as me, dunno why.
Come to Think of It, My Friends
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCXCVII)
It is NOT nineteen eighty sevn. I've bail.
I am not twelve nor still a child, though thence
The lady who bids me "Good Day!" looks hence
Like straight out of that page, her hairstyle, frail
As what? is from that year, til which detail
Can wrest me from sich notions? I've defense.
This car's from twenty twenty: I drive, whence
I'm nary kid, though fooled like naught'd avail.
My best friend's so depressed, despite the tour
Of drugs supposed to make her fine, the view
I swear's "romantic" she calls "dreary," her
Perspective 'spite my pleas, so very blue
We both give up, go on our ways, nor stir
More, as oh LORD, save us! We've naught sans You.
17May25b
...parents impossibly?
Does Fifty Mean You Miss Your
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCCXCVIII)
Our late lunch salad, blueb'rries dressed up thence
In cream with sugar on the side, t'avail
Fresh strawb'rries and fresh applesauce, I fail
And struggle with despair. Yet wherefore? Whence?
The ev'ning's sweet with golden shafts which hence
Yield shadows, grey, which come and go to scale
As sparrows gaily call; ah, which detail
Does not rejoice the soul? Why search defense?
I'm not sufficient in myself. Is't poor?
This breeze with gentle winds doth ver'ly woo,
Its cooling breath a balm as songs in tour
Lilt from all sides. If skies erst brightly blue
Yield up to clouds, what's not quite pretty? Were
There else, what is't? Oh LORD, restore me too.
17May25c
-
Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 1st, 2025 11:16
- Comment from author about the poem: Well, if these keep you on your toes we'll all dance nicely, eh? Enjoy?!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments3
Yes Chic I have seen a chicken without its head, mother in law used to wring them two at a time one in each hand and sometimes the head would come off. The plumber I can identify with and never like to call. Fun read Chic
They have been a lovely and entertaining read, ideal for a lazy Sunday evening, thank you
Yay! Rather, thank you!!!
You are very welcome
Headless chickens and clogged crappers. This is right up my alley! 🤣 Excellent and quite fun, my dear friend. Hope you had a most excellent weekend! 🌹👏
Thank you, thank you, thank you, you are too sweet!
You are so welcome!
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