Category: Wordles
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28 January: for Fireblossom’s Word List
This Isn’t About Trains or Armadillos That starched ribbon in her hair,its of dubious use. Absurd to thinkit can tie smoke, or restrain hairthat’s the colour of Moroccan wind. And she leans over the jukebox,f-me boots up to her anymores. She’s a superstar Wurlitzer genius, a mix of nightbird, and tar soap. This society girl…
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1 August: Wordle #563
The Other One She spent her final years in an asylum,running up and down the hallwaywith her tits bouncing off her knees . . . according to Dad who really never had a kind word to say about his mother. But some things stick in your head whenyou’re young,…
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for Sunday Whirl Wordle #548
The Writing Game Poets plan out their liveslike three line haiku, drivento write away minutesand hours. They sit hunchedunder mote slivers of light,as the clock ticks on and chimes.They’re rhyming everyinspired syllable sent. And with the pen’s last breath,they drop, dry and spent.It’s a game, a set and a match. Sunday Whirl’s Wordle #548 Use the following…
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Miz Quickly’s 10th August
Take a Walk in a Woman’s Shoes My feet protest,these shoes they detest. I’d described it as having a wounded second skin, invisible damage, but getting through the day with a smile. You can pretend to be meanwith keys tight betweenyour fingers. Ready to cut…
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Miz Quickly’s 12 Wicked Words
A Road: A Collection of Disjointed Thoughts It’s the dalliance of her undress. Her silky hip. The filthy silence that follows. And since you asked, my advice isall roads windup with endurance. I’ve traveled dry heat. Stony mirages.A staff in hand. I drew green on dunes, for a change of scenery. …
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For Sunday Whirl #503
The Men Chasing Cod All those fishing boats offshore, they’re moving paragraphsshifting on the horizon.Nets out. Time idles.God’s odds for a bounty.And then the nets tangle.Grounded on someparenthetical, Captain says. (he likes that word – not sure of its meaning though)And his anger turns wicked thunder,and it rains down on us.The catch is lost.…
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for The Sunday Whirl #502
It Might’ve Been Florida But It Wasn’t There was a time when gossip nevertraveled beyond the town limits,and what was published as newswas already known. You might’vestaggered around in extreme heatand humidity as if drunk. Always,summer was a fun-run-carnival until the middle of September. And scandals, they’d lie hard andlong below white cotton sheets,and girls chased…
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for Sunday Whirl #496
The Suppression of Green She’s wading too deep in gluey,sucking cold. In a biting winterstreams leached clear by dirt, ordisguised as spring water racingunder the green of cress leaves. Green is hope, she believes, and on this bright bleached day, shesees shadows blanket truth, goodand evil, and souls snagged onfish-hooked lines, waiting, baited for heaven’s shame,…
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For Sunday’s Wordle No. 494
Rise I love a sugar-spun dawn,earth unable to ignore the sky. It’s that moment when a thoughtmakes its mark. Opens the skin. It’s self-explanatory, and simpleas following a straight line road. It’s a singed dry leaf, an edged ghostfringe, foreign to its landscape, or a new thought that’s lying in waitright around the corner, where…
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for Sunday Whirl #487
I Saw No Christmas Star Last Night because city light breathes and sighs a gloomy gasp, like dogs barking at quicksilver across the sky, and the moon grows fat, a hanging light that shines the sky …
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