Ahem.
...it appears so for half a minute.
No Credit to Maps, I'm Back
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCDIII)
Green far as eye kin see, from trees' detail
To is't a bean field? Blue skies with a sense
Of nary blot overhead and meeting dense
Rich fields as if to meld the twain to scale
Oh! This, three years ago, was all, like bail
For dreams of yonder which take flight fr'intents
At just the sight of green as far as hence
Lo, I can see, mine once again, t'avail.
Yet wherefore? And come, why did maps detour
And take me off to nowhere?! I once knew
Just how to get here, and mixt up as t'were
By being awaked, whatever shall I do?!
They've made me late to work: lost pay is poor.
Oh LORD, restore my soul, for I need You.
01Jul25a
So I left a trail of sticky notes...
It's Not a Secret, Though Not Obvious
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCDIV)
The dove calls as I trudge back out from hence
To work, more fragile than I knew, th'all hail
Likeas Thy voice is't thence, oh LORD? I'm frail
Yet by Thee 'lone I shall be able thence
To pull it off on nary sleep, defense
Flown on the wings of myriad things, til bail
Half looks askance at me who would avail
Myself, 'cept is aught hope but mere pretense?
Plug in the phone to charge...and all as t'were
Dissolves, screens black, all's gone ere that I knew,
And in a blink, because what, eh? Is't poor
I'd charge the thing?! I'm sick of pizza too.
When I get off, let's take it easy. Stir
Thy mercies, LORD, redeem me. I need You.
01Jul25b
I never.
Folk Swear the World's Too Full of Cats?!
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCDV)
The ball of yarn. A bulb of garlic. They'll
Play with 'bout anything, for aught intents.
Twas garlic paper she danced oer til thence
I tossed it in the trash. But that detail
Was small fry. She sat on the hotplate, bail
When in the kitchen, looked 'round til what hence?
Lo, she espied the row of garlic, whence
She batted one choice bulb down to avail.
Did I toss one old piece of that as t'were?
How she 'non plays until there's more, nor two
Nor three white garlic papers flutt'ring fer
Aught on the floor. I can't knit, but I do
Cook, and she is too cute at that. Is't poor
We're having so much fun? LORD, we wait You.
02Jul25a
There's more to this later.
Oh Yes, I'd Call It Twisted Fun
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCDVI)
Now Peter owns the flowr chair Mum fr'intents
Asked me to take, my brother's bed his bail
As well, until what shall I do? Avail
Me nowhere as my brother's view for sense
Swears he is ousted by a kitten, whence
Is't erm, a feud where Peter seeks to scale
To be more close to him? Oh, I bewail
Sans any shred of hope nor of defense.
He takes the rocking chair I use in tour
While sipping Barry's, and what shall I do?
The sheer impasse is truly rather poor,
Yet nothing's left to alter things. I knew
No such odd troubles in my youth as t'were,
But our cats lived outdoors. Oh LORD, where to?
02Jul25b
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 10th, 2025 11:26
- Comment from author about the poem: So, uh huh. Enjoy?!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Damaso, Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments4
Excellent
Thank you!!!
You're welcome
A lovely selection for this evenings readings, enjoyed very much
You're entirely too kind, thank you very much!
You are very welcome
The title itself brought me to attention. It was the other day that I met a man who had just emerged from a dumpster with a bottle of coke in his hand saying amazing this one is almost full as he took a drink out of the bottle. Feel sorry for these people. And the cats are back as well most of the dumpsters I have seen ahd racoons. Good write Chic
My dear Missy, this whole arc is a whirlwind of sacred absurdity—tender, tangled, and delightfully off-kilter. The blend of green reverie, daily disruptions, and cat conspiracies made me chuckle and sigh in equal measure. You manage to stitch the divine into the disorder, and somehow it all feels… familiar. Thank you for taking me along for this soiree of sonnets. 🌹👏
You're welcome. Thank you very much for dropping by and giving your kindly thoughts.
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