LXVI Game 1

LXVI

So Tigers, it's not looking good so far.
For you I mean, and that is a fine thing.
Your game is not proving to be on par,
And you've had just three runs for all your swings.
It's true your pitching stats are pretty good,
But with his three home runs I swear it's true,
That even though their norm is bamboo wood,
Our Panda's gone carnivorous for you.
Your grey and orange doesn't pop as well,
Orange and black is a much finer gear,
In four more games I hope you will be felled,
Your beards are small and don't instill much fear.
     I'm sure there's other things that I could mock,
     But I'm all out of room for more trash talk.

LXV Morbid. Ghosty. It's October.

LXV

They'll find this here, a relic of times past,
A last most stubborn fossil that remains,
Curling, uncurling, restless as a cat,
A splinter moving through the beat of veins.
Those things that cannot find the light must wait,
A potent ling'ring itch that can't be reached.
A mystery that moves from place to place,
Yet cannot move at all towards some relief.
After time held in heat and pressurized,
It well might make some precious souvenir,
Even the smallest things can mesmerize
With enough pacing by the hobnailed years.
    This tiny knotted thing may yet see day,
    When all the rest of me has gone away.

LXIV Pumpkins

October is the month of blood and gore,
When killers with their knives run round the screen,
And try to up the numbers of death's score
In ways that are increasingly obscene.
When eager viewers sit and feast their eyes
As viscous fluids spray about from wounds,
They scream and cheer, or sometimes even hide,
And marathon these flicks of blood and doom.
But unbeknownst to this morbid lot,
The greatest slasher tale is all too real,
Each year we go out to the pumkin plot,
We grab the squash and then away we steal,
     We vivisect them at the kitchen table,
      And then display them long as we are able.
      

It's Sonnet, It's Sonnet Time

Last year I embarked upon an ill fated resolution to write one sonnet a day for a year. I lasted a little over two months and 63 poems. You can find them here: http://ejcrazycurls.blogspot.com/2012/01/iit-begins.html
I have realized I miss the exercise. So, here is a new blog. The Sonnet Blog, just for them. I am calling it thus so that (after this post) I have no excuse to post anything but sonnets here. So it begins, expect regular updates, I certainly will.