Suppertime Sonnet Stories: Trans-Dimensional Safety Lessons ForChristmas

A universe next door: The traffic stop
Was not performed, and blithely he drove on
At terribly high speed that did not drop
In time to miss an oncoming Scion.
Thank goodness in this one the lights did flash,
The siren sound, and though the ticket was
Expensive, Simon, chastened, ceased to dash
As though he were a supersonic Claus
And ev'rybody lived to celebrate
The holiday. A turkey, slightly cooled
Is still delicious; love is never late
But just anticipated. So hath ruled
The judge over dimensions. And the Man
In Blue enjoyed his gath'ring too, by plan!

In Which I Should Have Picked Another Day

What madness is this? Holidays are done
Yet at my local Post Office I find
A sight to frighten, or at least to stun
E'en the most fortitudinous: a line
That stretched from the front counter to the door
And out a bit onto the sidewalk. Each
Who came to join it gasped; we all abhor
Such tests of patience. And indeed, to reach
The hassled clerks took 40 minutes. I
Had promised unknown strangers I would get
Their packages sent off today or die
While trying, as they say, and so I let
The time flow slowly by and simply stared
At all the others' faces, bored and scared.

In Which The New Year Blows Blustery

White holidays are back, and so begins
The long and messy slog back to the sun.
This last day of the year blasts off our skins
With bitter winds and cold. There's little fun
To be had out-of-doors tonight: streets of ice
Assure nothing but falls and crashes -- yet
I'm sure there's plenty whose pursuit of vice
And silliness will lead them out. I'll let
Them have my fun. It's home for me and mine;
Tomorrow's just another work-day. You
Who venture forth, do hoist a glass of wine
On my behalf, and I'll think of you, too,
Especially my far-flung loves. Someday
I hope to pass these times with you, some way.

In Which I Don't Make A New Year's Resolution

I'm contemplating something quite extreme
(At least for me), though I tend to eschew
Those resolution-things (each a pipe-dream
At best; at worst something that, when you fail to do
What they prescribe, you'll feel a failure for
Just acting like yourself). I need to end
A bad behavior, though, but think I'll score
More points in the success column instead
If I just pose a challenge: just how long
Can I go without doing what I ought
To cut back on severely? Just how strong
Can I be on a daily basis? Fraught
With tension this still is, but I do best
When it's a game, or just a tiny test.

On Christmas Mornings Past

One Christmas in Chicagoland, I laughed
As Mark got ev'ry Beowulf there was
Except the Seamus Heaney. Photographed
There with my friends in my red dress, the buzz
Of being new-elected still had me
Bewildered at my fugure. That was eight
Weird years ago. At other times I see
Through watery eyes -- for it was once my fate
Allergic to the hay, to still take rides
Upon a wagon, stacked with it, through town
To look at lights, sip cocoa, at the sidea
Of childhood sweethearts. Weird what circles 'round
In memory, on holidays. This time
I'm just at work, but these are all still mine.

A Brief Holiday Lecture

Be careful as you travel. All I ask

Is use your seatbelt, and if you should drink,

Don't drive. Just choose another for that task.

You're likely sparing much more than you think;

Blue Christmas is a thing nobody hopes

To add to her experiential list.

So many, though, have lost out to the dopes

Who hurt or maim or or worse, through thoughtlessness.

Don't be that guy; that way we all can share

A happy time (except for those who've lost

Already -- and if you can, really, spare

A thought for such as those - it doesn't cost

A thing!). And that's all that I've got to say,

Except to have a joyous holiday!

Interstellar Feller: In Which Pepi Is Judged By A Seasonal Visitor

Sonneteer's note: this is the latest installment of an on-going sonnet serial, Pepito Mojito: The Interstellar Feller. New readers can get up to speed by clicking on the "Interstellar Feller" tag below to bring up all installments. Start at the bottom and read your way up to today's...

Lo! Suddenly, there cometh from afar
A most unlikely sight indeed, to wit:
A Dan O'Bannon spaceship Chevy car,
Its driver helmeted and in full kit.
Its load of fruit looks unspoiled, luscious, ripe
And quite delicious. Soon a tractor beam
Shoots from the Grokulator. "So what type
Of goodies have you for us?" There's a gleam
In Pepi's eye as he inquires; the stores
On board are running low. Bananta strides
Across the flight deck, takes in all the scores
Of cacogens enslaved, but won't take sides,
Except to offer one small handful to
Pepito: Rotten pomegranate. Ew!

A Fine And Fair Festivus To The Restivus

'Tis Festivus, and miracles galore

Present themselves, as I had just enough

Detergent for my laundry (one load more

And I would have to cross the street and stuff

To get more soap). And then, at one o'clock

My dog went in my yard and made some poop!

I know, it's really not that great a shock

But Festivus's miracles don't group

Like that without some intervention, no?

Say what you will. As for me, I believe.

Oh, and one more thing to tell you, ere you go:

Of one more blessing that I did receive:

The vacuum attachment for pet hair

Worked beautifully, if any of you care.

Happy Holidays From A VERY Special Baker

Who doesn't like, this time of year, to bake
Some Christmas cookies? It's hard to resist
The impulse to get out the gear and take
A little time. How else would they exist,
These goodies that make holidays so sweet?
The Gonzalexx 3000, being one
Who likes, as much as anyone, a treat
Thought he'd surprise his family. Once done
What robot worth his bolts would let them try
His offering without a little test
For quality and safety? This lil' guy
Sure isn't such; he'll only give the best!
And so, from Jose Gonzales and me,
We hope your holiday's sweet as can be!

Bring On The Dark

The moon's eclipsing on this solstice night?
Oh noes! Just how much darkness can we take?
We surely all shall perish from sheer fright
(Those of us whom the Great Old Ones don't bake
Into big pies for Festivus). As for
My part, a huge and blood-red, sky-borne orb
Seems emblematic of my mood. I'm sore
Of heart and mind - there's too much to absorb:
These holidays are stupid, crass and dull.
I'm longing for real winter, cold and long
And thoughtful; I appreciate the lull.
My pull towards winter I find just as strong
As e'er it was. 'Til then, I nod and sigh
And watch the silly season plod on by.

In Which Our Craftiness Is Tested, Or Brrr It's Bleeping Cold Out There

My house is warm with fam'ly, but outside

The wind roars bitterly, and it's damned cold.

When it's just me I let this matter slide,

Throw on another sweater, but, cajoled

By those I love I cranked my thermostat

Beyond the 60s. Then, 'cause there are drafts,

We nailed up a big blankie to combat

The frigid air from my back door. Such craft

As exercised here might seem to exceed

Our daily quota, but we're smarter yet!

When planning for the grocery run, indeed,

We planned for turkey soup and whatnot. Bet

We still have to go shopping Friday? No,

We roar, you cannot make us go!

In Which A Pork Roast Is Thawed And Thawed And Thawed

One might think that, with all that it's been through

This pork roast sitting on my countertop --

T'was frozen, partly thawed when Sears did screw

Me over last week, frozen again -- stop

Me if you've heard this one -- and yet somehow

Today, when time to cook it up has come

And it's been thawing all day, up to now,

It's still a solid rock of pork! It's dumb!

But microwaves, for these occasions, are

Appropriate, though, when one's slightly drunk,

A challenge to set properly. The bar

Is not set too, too high; I won't flunk

My cooking course tonight -- though I will say

I'm glad the turkey's fresh for Turkey Day!

Happy Halloween From Kate And @Isoban

"Sweetie Got Away" digital art by Christopher Butler, aka Isoban

When Rintrah caught a dragonet, his thought

To train it like a falcon seemed ideal

(When one depends on just the souls one's caught

To feed one's family every single meal

Some help is much appreciated). So

When Gamory showed little talent for

The task it was appointed, Rintrah's woe

Shook all the fires of hell, until Rintror

(His youngest daughter) tugged his pantleg, said

"It's pretty. May I keep him? Do say yes!"

"All right, but pull its wings off." "Ew! It bled

All over me!" "Well, leave them on, I guess,"

Quoth Rintrah. Then the darn thing burst out, free

(And Happy Halloween from Chris and me)!

Labor Day Ain't Just For Play

A three-day weekend is a real nice way
To end the summer, but just as it starts
With quite a sober, thoughtful holiday,
The summer's end should mean more in our hearts
Than just an extra day to play around.
That holidays and weekends are days off
For most of us, that we are safe and sound
(Or mostly) on the job, that -- don't you scoff --
We must be fairly paid... all this and more
We owe to those who struck and fought and died
To seize back power, even up the score
E'en just a little. Here's to those who tried
And sometimes failed. There's far to go as yet,
But we can someday get there, yes, you bet!
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SONNET RANT: In Which Capitalists Are Rebuked When They Complain About Capitalism

Free enterprise, what makes this country great,
Say many, but there always comes a time
When jingoists and their ilk must partake
Of their own words, when they cry "it's a crime
That this guy's charging me so much for work
He's done for me today!" and when said day
Is one of rest, when he was home. That "jerk"
Is just as free as you to spend, his way,
His precious summer hours. And this July,
This Fourth, well it's a holiday for all.
Yes, your emergency sure sucks, but I
Don't see why that means that, when you must call
For help and interrupt another's fun
That he can't charge you more. That's freedom, son.

In Which We Kind Of Already Did Mother's Day But I Can't Let The Actual Day Pass By Without Saying Something

Shift work means that I'm missing Mother's Day.
We celebrated last week: Chinese food
(Which she can't get in Togie) goes some way
Towards pleasing her; no fete should not include
Chop suey when it's for her, this I know!
I felt for her at Lowes and other stores
Where pots of flowers, blooming, out for show
Kept tempting her. Her fav'rite springtime chores
All center on their planting. She and dad
Are good at raising things and taking care
Of what they treasure, even through the bad
Old frosty times like now, but she did spare
These hothouse plants; too soon for them, as she
Well knows and kindly taught to Kris and me!

Late To The Party, I Still Try To Compose A Nerdigras Anthem

March Madness leaves me cold, to say naught of

St. Patrick's Day (Ugh! Amateurs and beer!).

There's really only one reason to love

This silly month and greet it with good cheer:

'Tis Nerdigras, the season of the geek!

From Christmas's square root (that is, the fifth)

Through Pi Day, March Fourteenth, we all shall seek

To show our love for elegance and pith:

Have fractal fun, unscrew some endless screws,

Chase Zeno's tortoise, don our best Lovelace,

Turn coffee into theorems with Erdös,

Cross Konigsbergen bridges or just face

Those Cantor sets within sets. Raise a glass,

And take a Knight's Tour with me. Now that's class!

February 15th

Those roses, so much cherished yesterday,
Clutched close and sniffed, then put in water, look
More than a bit diminished, though they may
Last days yet ere they're cast away. It took
A moment's thought to get them at the store --
A quick stop, mayhap, on the day's commute.
The hope still lingers, though, that they mean more
Than just some token holiday salute.
Have they been given just to keep the peace?
Would they appear without this odd mandate?
When they fade and are tossed does that release
An obligation for the year? Such weight
To put on fragile blooms, and yet we do
Keep using them to say that "I love you."

On New Year's Day

Now, really it is just another day.

The sun came up, we woke, we ate, we washed,

We greeted those we saw - that is to say

'Tis arbitrary, New Year's Day, b'gosh.

It has to happen sometime, lest our brains

Be overwhelmed with keeping track of time,

That piles up endlessly, that ever gains

Until we all are lost amidst the climb

Towards a summit none of us will see.

So, yearly we declare "let's start again,

Let's clean the slate, let's say today will be

An origin, and not just more, again,

Of what we've had a-going for so long."

But not forget the old stuff, per the song.

Meta-Sonnet: In Which I Have Amazed Myself

December thirty-first, Two Thousand Eight

A crazy resolution came to me

A daily sonnet -- wouldn't that be great?

But could I do it? I would have to see.

The first one concerned chicken soup I'd made,

And was my very first of any sort.

A year has passed; it's now a stock in trade

Of mine, composing sonnets, fast and short,

And far more than just one a day has come

Forth from these typing fingers, thanks to dares

And birthdays, and late-breaking news of dumb

And wondrous things, and as of summer, there's

The Interstellar Feller, too. What fun!

As New Year's Resolutions go, I've won!