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Sonnet Sunday's: Neverending
I sit patiently by my beloved’s bedside And there I will remain with no one to confide She twitches in agony with each twist and turn It will not be long before she will start to burn Now, more dominant on her face are the freckles No longer does the handkerchief have red speckles I pray that I could ease her suffering and pain Her moans grow louder and are driving me insane Another red eruption, she calls out my name I know when I see her face, it won’t be the same I wipe aw

Kirk Forseth II
Mar 222 min read


Tales from the 13th “Denny” (Where Bruises Go)
It was at the end of 1978, and the Caffertys were in the process of adopting the newest member of their family. Eric was excited as he would have a playmate, the parents’ other son. The two things that they knew were that the mother and father couldn’t afford to keep him, and that his parents were crackheads. They knew that the poor child was going to go through withdrawals, but other than his mother being a piece of shit, everything on the ultrasound was coming up aces for t

Kirk Forseth II
Mar 138 min read


Sonnet Sunday's: Inevitable
A grove of weeping willows in decay The impending doom fills all with dismay Guarded by an ominous black steel gate It definitely knows no time or date Always gloomy is this foreboding place Such a relief to see an angel’s face From a distance, they’re imperceptible You’re welcome, for all are acceptable You can always find the ones you’re seeking Silence is golden for no one’s speaking Knowledge coming from the deep impressions None holding onto worldly possessions All shape

Kirk Forseth II
Mar 81 min read


Sonnet Sunday's: The Black Death
It all started with the Mogul horde When they were mysteriously floored Throwing their dead right over the wall This act would be the start of it all All the way to Italy it came For history is never the same Way across Europe, it quickly spread Thousands of people would soon be dead Extending from the rat’s parasites The church leaders refused to give the Last Rites No one’s safe, not even the royals Each of them was marked with blackened boils Physicians at that time racked

Kirk Forseth II
Feb 221 min read


Tales from the 13th “If You’re So Smart, Why Are You Failing” (Where Bruises Go)
Eric wasn’t a stupid kid, not by a long shot. He was tying his shoes and reciting the alphabet, both in English and in Sign Language, by the time he was four. There were several times when he became bored in class, as he had already learned what was happening in kindergarten. His teacher, Mrs. Harris, was a proud black woman, and it was the late 70s. One thing she didn’t like was the smart-ass white kid who shouldn’t have been in her class to begin with. However, he couldn’t

Kirk Forseth II
Feb 139 min read


Sonnet Sunday's: Roll of the Dice
You say love was never your token That your heart was severely broken Never liked the odds to be so plain In a world filled with oh so much pain Playing craps with the six-sided bones Looking for more carbon copy clones Don’t regret the risks that might have been Wondering if you’re living in sin Hoping to God love is in your fate ’Cause all good things come to those who wait One day, your prince will come with his ring In jubilation, your heart will sing You’ll look gorgeous

Kirk Forseth II
Feb 81 min read


Sonnet Sunday's: Life on the Battlefield
Bullet tears like knives through butter So much pain, his heart starts to flutter He never signed up for this strife Slowly, he loses his crimson life The country had lost its glamor Once the bombs started to hammer The medic tries to do his best But soon he’ll take his final rest Try as he may, the blood won’t stop Cleared away from the napalm drop Some morphine was given to him Pain is gone, and the light grows dim He only went to Vietnam To serve his much-loved Uncle Sam H

Kirk Forseth II
Jan 251 min read


Tales from the 13th: Regret from the Beginning (Where Bruises Go)
Eric Cafferty was born at the end of May 1974 to Deanna and Eric. According to them, he was wanted; however, the way they acted towards him made it clear he wasn’t. While the pictures of his humble beginnings showed a happy child, his memories began when he was four years old. Sounds remarkable, but his earliest memory deals with him in Florida with his maternal grandmother and his Uncle Lewis. They were feeding ducks; however, Eric went to feed the baby ducks. The mature duc

Kirk Forseth II
Jan 137 min read


Sonnet Sunday's: Rose Colored Glasses
Can’t look at the world with rose colored glasses Or make decisions slower than molasses Our world is filled up with such trouble and...

Kirk Forseth II
Nov 30, 20251 min read


Sonnet Sundays (on a Thursday) The Self Righteous
Leave it to the hypocrites to stand tall Unturned noses passing judgment on all The sister can smoke a joint around kids But s husband...

Kirk Forseth II
Oct 2, 20251 min read
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