Haha?
How To Eclipse What Came Before
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXVI)
Don't wake the dead. But lo, all sleep from hence?
Come home. Dead silence greets my entrance, frail
As thinking twas not early to avail
Us of...is't breakfast? Put all 'way, to thence
Put on the kettle for dear Barry's, sense
Aware their bowls need cleaning, that detail
For later, no? Now they're up, have I bail?
One cuppa, then fresh food and water, whence?
They nibble at the shortbread for as t'were
A moment, is't? Eat their own food like to
Effect it truly is good. Then in tour
Our breakfast, where his bacon is their cue
To check our plates out, Helen Keller's cure
For mealtimes ours?! Oh LORD, we wait on You.
16Jun25a
Okay?
Don't Ask Me What, Again?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXVII)
I had no time t'observe dawn, aught detail
In that regard lost to the job til thence
Lo, I was free. Now tis the fourth day, whence?
But see them sync themselves like to avail
Unto our rhythms. For if aught sleep, then they'll
Heed who's awake; he sez they climb fr'intents
The screen to get attention is't? Their sense
Of ours so keen, we'll all traipse down the trail.
My friend said they would love to munch as twere
Oatgrass, but Tigger takes blades from me, to
Drop them upon the floor, like, guess that's poor?
And catnip is for other cats: these two
Don't mind nor else subscribe to that allure.
We're having fun, I'm sure. LORD, save us too.
16Jun25b
We are.
Oh Yes, We're Having FUN
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXVIII)
Have they been up all night?! Now I've defense
And fin'lly sleep at night, twas odd? Who'd hail
Me ere I'm fully waked? Why'd litter trail
Itself all oer until tis sandy sans defense
Indoors? Why's it her playpen? Where's good sense?
Go off to text my best friend, and t'avail
How Tigger sneaks up on me like to fail
To join the others truly is pretense.
Who left the bodywash and lotion fer
All that askew? They're learning to eat through
Our presence in the kitchen. Toys as t'were,
From string to catnip furries, will not do,
Or else are late esteemed as rather poor;
Til, how shall we converse? LORD, we wait You.
17Jun25a
[He's become acutely sensitive since this event.]
My Baby Blames Himself?!
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXIX)
He sez that Peter looks most like to scale
His wilder parents, though my baby's thence
A sweetheart with his sister, til from hence
I am distraught because I stepped sans bail
On him, who slunk off sans a cry in frail
'Scuse, and would not respond to me, suspense
Mair cruel now that I mourn the deed, and whence
The darker in the light of that detail.
They love to play at tag and chase in tour
Each other, bouncing off the walls like two
Small kids at play--oh how I love them! Were
There else, they try our food t'approve and too
Indulge, or not. It's all so new. Bestir
Thy mercies, LORD, and save us now, won't You?
17Jun25b
Alas, guess I must be....old?!
Of Yesteryear and Summer Joys
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCDLXX)
How shadows laz'ly stretch upon these dense
Sunwashed green lawns, whose gold-kissed note's detail
Culls dreams, til Summer once again'd avail
In visions only childhood cherished, whence
Behold for half a second more the sense
Of all I used to know now winking hale
In fond hopes at me like it still owns bail,
Although the faerie dream has no defense.
Oh how I loved this season then in tour!
Because it meant no school and freedom; to
Be hot meant lo, the sprinkler, rarely fer
All that a pool; long bike rides sweetly through
Col'rado prairies, where to be as t'were
Grown up meant nothing. Oh LORD, I need You.
17Jun25c
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 1st, 2025 15:25
- Comment from author about the poem: Oh, yeah, eclipsing too. Enjoy?!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
Another series of sonnets that enchant. I know what it is to work the graveyard shift and come home when others are awakening. Breakfast becomes dinner. Daily activities make it hard to sleep. The food helps. Very nice Chic
It sounds like Tigger has got his feet well and truly under the table and is slowly ruling the roost!!!, enjoyed the reads
Yes, SHE [Tigger] seems verily to rule the roost, but I could swear her brother Peter actually is letting her. Thank you so very, very much! You're entirely too kind.
That's just being a gentleman
Since his full name is Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, and he seems to wear it very well, you're most certainly correct.
A man of standing!!!, I won't ask how a fluffball got a name like that, bit of a mouthful when your calling for him to come home
Haha! I don't either. But my adorable fluffballs go by simply Peter and Tigger.
Have Fun, take care
Thank you! You likewise.
Love them
What a textured tapestry you’ve spun: domestic chaos, feline theatre, and wistful flashes of youth, all folded into a procession of compact sonnets. 🕊️🙏🏻
Fun fact. Eclipse is stellar closer to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon! So that there is eclipsing in this poem...Chef's kiss. And, another fun fact, the day you stop having fun is the day we no longer see our favorite, and the world's most accomplished, sonneteer post any more sonnets. That would be a very tragic day indeed. So, please, NEVER stop having fun! Wonderful sonnets, my friend, as always. 🌹👏 Also, it's been a pleasure to read about Tigger! She seems totes adorbs!
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