...too?
Should I Have MY Tubes Tied
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXXXI)
A cuppa coffee, half and half'd avail,
Next cuppa half and half with coffee, hence
Sans breakfast since they must fast for intents;
And somehow we are on the sorry trail
To yonder early, where how Tigger would bewail
The whole drive there, with Peter joining thence,
Til I begin to ver'ly hate the scents
Of their pate 'non wafting through like bail.
I never wanted THIS, nor could in tour
E'en just'fy this sheer outrage, yet these two
Could not be mine 'cept I signed to it, her
Keen hatred for all felines, veiled, I knew,
Yet I must concur in my submission. Stir
Hope in the LORD, my soul. LORD we wait You.
14Aug25a
It'll be over and I bewailing it, ere I know.
The Time, Forsooth, Is Short
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXXXII)
How Autumn sifts through, subtly, with a sense
Of joy's denouement just in tow sans bail,
And I've not been asleep, or have I? Hail
Each little measure, think to jot from thence
Aught down, but don't, to quite forget til whence
Calls in the reck'ning at the season's tail
End, where I'm mourning all we could avail
Ourselves of being a loss and late pretense.
The hours are golden, not too warm in tour,
'Cause it is Fall. Yet I'll feel I ne'er knew
Whenas November puts and end as twere
To all we cherished, skeletons in lieu
Of festive trees, as now the change'd bestir.
Oh LORD, let us not miss the notes of You.
14Aug25b
Boy, did I ever!
I Guess I Earned an Earful
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXXXIII)
Life paused while they were gone as no detail
But hung there in the balance with a sense
Of their dear presence absent, as defense
Seemed likewise gone. And how they howl sans bail
All down the long drive home, til I fear they'll
Be wanting pain meds, but no. That's pretense?
They're pleased as punch to be home, like what thence?
How often did they move ere I'd avail?!
Yes, Tigger runs to check their bowls in tour
Just filled for them now they can have't anew.
And they are quiet too, once home, demure
As if they're fine, where I must rush off to
Some job til after midnight. Come, what's poor
Is I'd not trust Thee fully. LORD, You knew.
14Aug25c
Haha, it IS.
It IS Called Having Fun, You Know.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXXXIV)
Cold beef with whole shrooms dinner, and defense
Where I'd no time to think whilst that detail
Begged I grab something on my way, t'avail,
Out of the door to werk, the grease fr'intents
White icebergs I'll pass up as nary scents
Of Worcestershire sauce entice, just hunger's scale
In strange and foreign settings, til tis bail
Forsooth, with guacamole to add sense.
Milk choc'late hearts from Valentines t'assure
Me of my case, we laugh and chat all through
The rest of her shift, where "awake" feels poor,
But is our joke. Tis like a dream we knew
Upon the trail to yonder, where to stir
Hope's all that's left. Oh LORD, we wait on You.
14Aug25d
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: August 21st, 2025 09:16
- Comment from author about the poem: I'll explain individually to whom asks. Enjoy.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Online)
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