In Which I Gain Another Sobriquet

I must confess, it often makes me blush,

As vividly as does my best guy when

I tweet him compliments or silly mush,

That Ommus calls me "Sonnet Queen." These men

Are merciless betimes; now comes today

When Ommus, blaming iPhone for the flub,

Bestowed on me a brand new sobriquet,

And so the pair of them now fondly dub

Me "Sinnet Queen", which, near as I can tell,

Has aught to do with ropes and weaving, which

Suggests that I'm to be tied up real well?

Or am I being saucy here? No glitch

Do I see in my reasoning, so, Paul,

And Ommus, I accept this name you call.

Meta Sonnet: In Which I Consider The Role Of Technology In My Poetry For ParadiseTossed

Without the internet, they could not be,
These sonnets that I publish every day.
While, when first I did start, I thought I'd see
Some real-life inspiration in the play
Of people and events, quite soon I found
A richer vein on Twitter for ideas:
Those links and news which daily there abound
Are now essential; then, too, there's the squeeze
I sometimes put to friends there: sonnet dares.
Then, too, there is the question of research!
I am no chemist, for example. There's
No telling in what deeply horrid lurch
I'd be without those Wikis and RhymeZone.
I don't think I could write these all alone.

SONNET DARE: In Which I Ponder Bugs Literal And Metaphorical

I have been dared to look deep down inside,
Engage in navel-gazing, by my friend,
Ol' Ommus, who it seems could not abide
That I should write 'bout puking bugs; forfend!
Instead a diff'rent bug is on our minds:
The comics bug, which bites and then takes hold
Until no matter where one looks one finds
A item, figure, notion new or old
That just might make a comic. It's true though
That as my dear friend Walter doth point out
Not ev'ry story needs that treatment, so
It must be a discerning bug. Hold out
I do for tales whose vivid imagery
Demands both words and pictures. That's for me!

In Which I Become The Pie Monster For A Certain Someone's Benefit

While they were here, I took my Mom and Dad

To lunch in Cheyenne at a special joint.

Needless to say, our lunch was so not bad

That it was fab - but that is not my point.

I got a dare from Ommus once again

To sonnetize The Pie Lady this time

(That's where we lunched and where I found within

A Pie Monster). Now, yesterday my prime

Preoccupation was with Star Trek, but,

He's not so big on deadlines, Ommus, so

Today, a quiet day, I choose to strut

My sonnet stuff on him once more. I know

A sonnet is a strange place for trash talk,

But om nom nom, I'm eating. Take a walk.

In Which I Decide Not To Wait Until Issue #5

I've only seen a mere twenty percent
Of this new book but I find I can't wait
To share my admiration of that bent
Old Warren Ellis and to here relate:
Ignition City's taken o'er my mind!
It's sick in parts - for instance much concerned
With pellet food once it is left behind
Well-used in chamber pots (yes they have spurned
The shiny Gernsback world in lots of ways) -
But artful. Where do spacemen go to die?
Per Warren and Gianluca, to a place
Where they can only stare up at the sky
And drink away their memories, and gape
At Mary Callipygia Raven's shape.

SONNET GAUNTLET: The Quest For Truthiness

I must admit, I lied a little bit

When I claimed to be sanguine 'bout the loss

Of NASA's poll to that - I won't say twit,

As that has connotations, and a gloss

Of coolness that do not apply to him -

Let's say "showboat," Colbert. I'm a bit mad,

But just a bit. My own prospects are dim

Of having my own cult like that. For shame,

I'm jealous, and I've lied in sonnet form!

My nose is too long and it's growing now;

My temper is too short. So I perform

A sonnet mea culpa (on a dare).

O Ommus, really, you had not a prayer.

BONUS SONNET: Written On A Dare

The gauntlet thrown, of course I pick it up.
A Twitterfriend has double-dog dared me
To sonnetize on Cheney. I said yup,
I bet I can before I'm off to see
How many Guiness glasses I can down
To celebrate this fine St. Patrick's Day.
I hope he won't turn this here sonnet down --
A meta-sonnet is fair game, I'd say.
We all know 'bout the ex-veep's latest mess:
His rush to out Limbaugh ol' Rush Limbaugh.
Dick Cheney, in his great Bitchassedness
Keeps dissing on Obama, won't withdraw.
But what do we expect from Tortur'n Dick?
Was he going to depart the field that quick?