...not debunking anything, just saying.
Of Barry's and...Cold Pizza
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXI)
Cold pizza for, um, breakfast that detail
Reputed as a good choice, and I thence
Being far too sleepy last night to eat, whence?
But ah, I'll pass on that (unless t'avail
My only option is the same) and hail
Dunno what in exchange. How Barry's, dense
With sweet recure, is grand erm, after, sense
Restored as aerie dancers waft up, frail.
Yes, shortbread melts within my mouth in tour
As wont this year, yet Barry's is what'd woo
Sae sweetly: I'm in love. Sip ere aught stir
In morning's early calm as birdsongs cue
Likeas Thy mercies new each morning were
Enough for praising Thee, oh LORD, as due.
23May25a
Grand, isn't it?
Tis Once Upon A Friday End of May
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXII)
How shadows play across the face of dense
Green rolling hills and dales whose sunny tale
Yields to forbidding grey for that detail
Of half a second, pure blue heavens with thence
White, fluffy clouds gone sailing on seas hence
So crisp, all is a gorgeous picture hale
In ev'ry joy heart wanted, to avail,
Where ev'ning owns a sun-washed scene fr'intents.
How blackbirds tease as if life is in tour
A merry game, whilst traffic rushes to
And fro on some grand race to yonder fer
The umpteenth time, this perch high 'bove, the view
Is like a vision to consider. Were
There else, oh LORD, I need Thy grace anew.
23May25b
...aren't they, though?
Ah, But May Nights Are Pretty
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXIII)
How gloaming settles in with chill t'avail
The sticky note warmth augured as night hence
Draws in to own these aerie sights, a sense
Of dreams and sheer mystique in tow for bail;
Tree silhouettes now black against the trail
Of pink that was the sunset stand from thence
In silence, where the blackbirds' call is whence
The day now perished is, calm aught's detail.
I did not pack but lunch, and salad fer
The same, and hunger haunting, cookies too
Old for aught, Jif and cheese my fare in tour
Til I am free, sit late neglected. Blue
Is sapphire and like velvet oerhead. Stir
Thyself and come back, LORD, for we wait You.
23May25c
So there.
If I Knew That, There'd Not Be This
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXIV)
T'will allus be the day they tied fr'intents
The knot, he twenty-one, and her to scale
But twenty-three, mere kids she said; the trail
Ahead clothed in sheer mists whilst romance thence
Was all, they'd just oer forty years' defense
'Fore aught was finished and the grave's detail
Sealed up that freighted dream as done. T'avail
Me now he's buried likewise, mocks good sense.
What's left now we're their orphans, just as poor
As they, or richer? What of all we knew?
The slew of photos, black and white in tour
Til was the eighties? shew life waltzing through
Its paces with mud pies sun-dappled fer
Two little kids now old. LORD, we wait You.
24May25a
...one with witches and their magic, I'm guessing.
Yes, But Which One, Precisely, Eh?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXV)
Say that I've read too many books in frail
Excuse, and watched too many flicks; pretense
Based on the facts oerrides the same from hence,
And what I see in truth looks like the tale
From fiction, til what is would feign detail
What never was, save in mere dreams, and sense
Misgives itself as I half wrestle thence
With foolish thoughts, like naught could thus avail.
How fir trees figure in so many's tour
Of legends or of fables, clouds 'bove too
As these, the fluffy white battalions pure
Against these streaky faint blue clouds, the view
A picture from which story ere? Bestir
The same in lieu of now? LORD, I need You.
24May25b
...a dream." Eh?
"...Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Life is But
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDXVI)
How goldfinch merr'ly trick the passing sense
Of time out with familiar chatter's scale
Of cheer, as if the Summer hours' detail
Could not be better save in their notes, whence
Hark! as they keep the minutes for intents
Supplied with happy notes likeas t'avail,
From heat I maunt escape to shadows' hale
Recure, as blue heavns yield to clouds' defense.
Where shadows vaguely gird the light as t'were,
Winds have a cooler breath, aught teasing cue
Likeas the happy game which keeps as t'were
The wheels yet turning. Where night edges through
Mair subtle means the closer, few astir,
Oh give us to look unto Thee, LORD: You.
24May25c
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: June 6th, 2025 15:01
- Comment from author about the poem: Enjoy?!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Online)
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