When I click “like”…

…on one of my posts, it is not only because I like it very much, but also, because I have decided I am finished, absolutely and positively, with any and all lucasing. (still, there may be prequels though)

Even givinn this, I still feel a bit funny or guilty clicking on my own work. But so far I haven’t gone blind. And anyway, I have found that if one wants ones own blogs to appear in ones “reader,” then one must “follow” one’s own blog as well. I have done so, and haven’t gone blind from that either.

Now, here’s where, if I were already blind, I would admit it. But upfront, I’ll let everyone know that that is not the case; I am not blind.

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Sonnet: Kanaka

How Black, the hottest fires of Hell must burn;
So Hot, this Blackened Hell, must be its fires.
The spit on which impurity doth turn,
Would sear the flesh impurity requires.
Beyond repentance, punishment doth earn;
Yet ever, to impurity aspires.

So Hot the Sweetest Love, do we deny;
How Sweet, this Burning Love of ours, its taste,
Impurity were beckoned in thereby
To desecrate this altar we disgraced;
And cast away its sanctity, defy
This gift, as Heaven, each to us, hath graced.

How Sweet the Sin, which Strongly us befell
How Strong the Death which Blackened us… to Hell.

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Sonnet: A.D. 1984

Why are all the Orwell jokes forsworn?
I think forgetting these is quite a sin.
I thought I’d see Big Brother T-Shirts worn;
And parties serving casks of Vict’ry Gin.

So, why is there not one Big Brother sign;
Nor pundits blath’ring on in TV Spots;
Comparing economical design;
Nor tales told of recent commie plots?

Perhaps the joke is just too cheap a shot;
That no-one of importance really heads.
Or maybe it’s that everyone forgot;
Er maybe’ts them what hardly never reads.

Whatever’s causing all (or none) of this.
I’m thinking what a wild time we’ll miss.

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Sonnet: Elephant?

AnElephantCant ever truly know,
How certainly her “hubby” thinks it grand,
That put a smile on my true loves face,
Such wonderful attention, as first hand.

But greatest joy as do your words bestow,
Dear pachyderm, don’t misconstrue me please,
In spreading mirth as do your words with grace
The more affects him, well it guarantees,

Beyond so great a joy, as overflow
Most all the expectations he conceives.
Then writes he sonnets all the more apace
Although the Holiday so interleaves;

And though his sonnets flow like water, won’t
Misplace such inspiration if they don’t!

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A Viking limerick | Björn Rudbergs writings

A few days ago, I found myself, over dinner, telling a friend about these two.  So I thought, for his benefit, I’d dig them up. Bjorn wrote the following to a visual prompt:

Once was a heathenish Viking
Adored the fighting and striking
But when coming home
From a killing roam
Knitting was more to his liking

And I answered thus:

This Viking, was quite a go-getter,
And although he was colder and wetter,
While on his way home,
From the sacking of Rome,
He was glad he had knitted a sweater.

via A Viking limerick | Björn Rudbergs writings.

Intro: A little too “dead-leaf”-ish

I watch the crazy
lady yelling at the desk
clerk; The couple fighting two

booths away; The paranoid
schizophrenic handling both
sides of the conversation; The

beggar demanding change;
and
the best of everything, that

I crave, that I prefer, that I gather
up and
take with me.

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