Sept. 17: Write 3 sonnets about stuff you like

Every year when fair October comes

I find myself here donning red and black.

I will take up the banner and the drums

and bid my Calgree Flames to skate! Attack!

But still, I know that I'll be filled with fear

when I sit down to watch them play the Jets.

I know that 25 is not their year. 

Their year, I wonder if I'll see, but yet.

I know Craig Conroy knows his hockey game

for he once played here for the Flaming Cs.

And he'd agree that this year's squad's quite lame

And Mr. Stanley won't go YYC.

I take great heart in knowing that the puck

will not be kind to Vancouver Canucks.

-

When I was but a boy of only 10

a magic set was gifted unto me

I learned all of those simple tricks and then

I started doing shows and charged a fee.

And as the years went by I like to think

that I got better at that silly craft

I do a bunch of card tricks and I wink

and tell lame jokes that make you groan and laugh.

I never climbed that high in magic lore

a middle market piker's all I am.

Still when I'm on a stage I'm not a bore

I cut up ropes, make coins appear in yams.

And when the show is done, I crash and burn.

Yes I'm addicted, craving my next turn.

-

There is a B-Man always at my side

he's always there, except when he's in school.

His presence always fills me with such pride

and yet, I feel, my mirth is that of fools.

I guess it's somewhat sad to have to say

that as he's close to 12, I'm his best friend.

A boy of 12 should fight to have his way

and tell his tired old man this is the end.

He should have schoolmates fill his heart with joy

and plan a weekend pastime with his pals.

Don't get me wrong, I deeply love my boy.

I only wish for him an endless well

of people who will love him on and on.

And people who will love him when I'm gone.