Stanley cups...what's the hype again???
Of Cups, Friends, and Sundries
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXV)
I never wanted Stanley cups to scale,
This Starbucks one more cuz a friend was thence
Excited, and we both splurged on pretense,
Have matching cups, and that will do for bail.
I guess. The knock-off one is cheesy, frail
As their new drink size and yes, the expense.
Panera's better priced and fits from hence,
The Stanley logo ancient Bab'lon's tale.
And butt'milk mine, I'll craft 'gain as it were
Those Danish doughnuts "aebleskivers," to
Enjoy for breakfast, frying up eggs in tour
For that while lo, the house goes crazy through
His chasing Peter. Melons' sweet's not poor
'Longside, though breakfast seems a joke. LORD, who?
09Aug25a
Peter resembles a fluffy stuffed animal.
Have You Ever--Nevermind, I Guess
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXVI)
Sans sleep and tired, too tired to think fr'intents,
I know you NEVER grab a cat's erm, tail,
But--. I was just trying to pin Peter, frail
As such excuses, down. Of course, what thence
Um followed was not nice. At least from hence
His collar cannot throttle him. Was't bail
I chopped it off with scissors to avail
Us fin'lly of what might be called defense?
And oh, I bought new collars for them too.
The vet demands hard carr'ers, and in tour
One each, so guess I maunt avoid, demur
Nor fail to do so. Come, my furry boo
Is wild, but we must do this as it were.
Oh LORD, have mercy on us, we need You.
09Aug25b
...no, not this time anyway.
It's NOT Pin the Tail on the Donkey
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXVII)
He tore the place down just to catch in frail
Reply a cat, erm, Peter, like pretense
Was not on top lo, anymore, fr'intents;
And hissed and growled back at him to avail,
Whiles I threw up my hands...and grabbed his tail.
(By acc'dent, I'll assure you--it was thence
Too handy, for a second--til defense
Was on the cat's side, me left to bewail.)
We're having fun, I'm certain. What is poor
Is ign'rance. I'd not take the wild squirrel who
Loved oh, my plant pots in, thus wherefore her
And Peter, who are feral? Why these two?
And Peter, who are feral? Why these two?
Oh, I paid prett'ly for them too. Bestir
Good sense, and what is that?! LORD, we thank You.
09Aug25c
Don't answer.
Where I Forgot to What?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXVIII)
Yes, off at six and crafting breakfast thence,
Called in for lo, tonight, ah, which detail?
Wrap sandwich split for lunch, chopped salad's tale
Mine to enjoy as well, give him from hence
Beans, chips, cheese and yogurt likeas in defense
For dinner, whilst refried beans mine t'avail,
With guac and chips, I am too tired for bail,
These distant hills and Autumn sans words, whence?
I'll look, but do not let me dream as twere,
Besides, it's way too hot. I see the view
Yet am not moved for sheer fatigue, is't poor?
Oh, this is how the seasons pass--let blue
Heavns reign til twilight steals all in a tour
Of blackest night, moon yellow. LORD, where to?
09Aug25d
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 16th, 2025 10:33
- Comment from author about the poem: Funny, eh? Enjoy.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
A series of sonnets party like in flavor and oh yes I remember that old game of pin the tail on the donkey that had several variations.
This is becoming a night time ritual being updated on the shaninigans of the Fluffballs, I to remember pin tail on the donkey with many variations, enjoyed the reads
Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! You are too kind.
You are very welcome
Missy, you’ve woven everyday chaos and weariness into your sonnets with your wonderful mix of humor, honesty. Cats (you know my love for them), cups, and sheer fatigue become tie it all together in sonnet songs that sing, my friend. And I certainly remember THAT game. 🤣 Well done, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Hahaha! Poor Peter. Thank you, thank you so very much!!!
You really are a master of your style
Aww, thank you!
There’s something irresistibly human in how these tumble from branded cup banter into cat‑herding fiascos and the quiet, bone‑deep fatigue of everyday life. The Stanley cup is almost a decoy; the real heart here is in the messy breakfast tables, the scorched‑edge joy of "aebleskivers," and Peter’s furry reign of terror. I love how the voice doesn’t apologise for its tangents; it wears them like lived‑in kitchen aprons, stained with coffee and paw prints. Even the prayers feel half‑whispered mid‑chore, a thread stitching together the cups, the collars, the melons, the moon.
Thank you, thank you, you are entirely too kind!!!
Yeah' funny & enjoyed each one of em .. I got into trouble at school yonks back when playing doctors n nurses .. cuz I sawed a kids head off .. (joking) .. it was just one leg ... and an ear .. and ..
Hahaha! Nothing quite like the fun we've known, the tales of my maternal grandfather using his sister for target practice what we shivered over, though, naturally, he was on par with William Tell. Thank you so very, very much!!!
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