Tag Archives: The Sunday Whirl

War Games for The Sunday Whirl

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War Games

Those bitter hopes that sting one’s mind
are wishes of the futile kind
that make us restless, turn us odd
as we assume that frail facade
that we think hides our fears and doubt
about what this new world’s about.
Massive ills that strip our world
as daily missiles are unfurled
to hit those cities torn by war
 to stem the orange monarch’s roar––
his curiosity to quell
concerning this day’s nouveau Hell
unleashed upon the place he names
to be the target for his games
of fire and brimstone, bomb and gun––
war games he invents for fun!!

For The Sunday Whirl, the prompt words are: facade doubts curiosity bitter torn hit restless hope massive frail strip sting

Garden Warfare for The Sunday Whirl

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And at the end of the day, leaf cutters still busy!

A colony of  thousands of leaf-cutter ants forms a chain to file in an orderly fashion around my house to my large Virginia Creeper vine that hangs over my terrace. It is their intention to crunch the life out of leaf after leaf by grasping them in their razor jaws and slicing off neat packages to carry off to their nest.

I rattle the tiny logs of ant poison in the can to spill several small lines of poison over their trail, then scan the procession to watch them carry them off. I hate killing any part of nature, still I have a hunch that if I don’t fight back, that they will strip the entire garden of its leaves–every vine, plant and tree. As I fit the lid back on the can, I try to reassure myself that in most encounters in nature, one creature loses while the other wins. This is part of the plan. But still, I experience guilt as I watch yet another ant carry a pellet back to its nest.

Prompts for The Sunday Whirl 747 are: colony rattling still lose crunch life fits hunch scan packages grasping chains.

A Chill Wind

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A Chill Wind

The ghosts of leaves take shelter in the edges of my garden,
scraps settling in hidden piles, as if asking the pardon
of roses trembling on the vine, left to face the frost
that is surely coming, and they know at what a cost.
Stepping around rocks that have encroached upon the path,
I pick one last remaining rose to save it from the wrath
of winter that approaches day by day by day
to ice the flesh of growing things and crumble them away.

 

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle the prompt words are: shelter settle rose rocks edge step messy flesh left ghost tremble scrap. (Yes.. I admit I left “messy” out. You can take 8.3333 points off my score!)

“Night Casting” for The Sunday Whirl

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Night Casting

When the sun puts on its midnight shroud,
we cease to air our thoughts aloud.
Moonlight trails across our bed,
leaving tracks within our head,
creating symbols that rock our dreams
’til brought to light with morning’s beams.
Then words remembered from the night
are ones we claim as we recite,
promising they are our own,
captured by that spear we hone
to probe the waters of the night
for words like fish that cross our sight
and thus are brought to light of day
by means of stories that we say
are our creation, although it seems
they’re really thoughts stolen from dreams.

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle, prompt words are:
shroud symbols water rock sun tracks spear stolen cross promise moon trail. Photos created with AI.

“Shipwreck of State” For The Sunday Whirl, Feb 8, 2026

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Shipwreck of State

The ship of state spins crazily, splitting at the sails.
Not a breathe of wind to fill its wings as it hesitates and fails.
It cringes as the cracks form on its masthead and beneath
and it runs ashore to crumble into pieces on the heath.
By no stretch of faith can those who watch fail to feel the quaking
as the whole world shudders at this chaos in the making.

For The Sunday Whirl the prompt words are: split cringe breathe pieces wings cracks beneath hesitates stretch ship spin chaos. Illustration created with the help of AI.

Golden Idols, For The Sunday Whirl Wordle

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Golden Idols

Untethered tendrils of memory weave through my agenda for the day, sparking wonder as they strike against those walls the modern world prompts us to erect. But too soon, the flame of memory falls to ash as it confronts harsh reality. Dare we renew that faith that led us for so many years through our earlier life? New gods less holy than those of our youth construct golden idols whose weight those who should be our leaders cower beneath. Truth cloaked by greed, too many of our formerly trusted messengers play their game, sending false messages below headlines that label them as News.

The The Sunday Whirl Wordle prompts are: below renew weaves through cloaks holy untethered tendrils gods spark ash wonder

Wheel of Seasons for The Sunday Whirl

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Wheel of Seasons

A morning walk in autumn with warm sun overhead
Is something in the winter that you might approach with dread.
With a hood pulled round your head and chin, although the view is nice,
you’re bound to cross a wonderland of frost and snow and ice.
You pull your cape around you from your shoulders to your knees,
hoping three layers of garments with circumvent the freeze.
Saved by the certain knowledge that the great wheel of the year
will in months give rise to springtime as it slips another gear.

Words for The Sunday Whirl Wordle 741 are: wonderland bound morning ice knees hope wheel three cape head cross

Aging Well, for the Sunday Whirl Wordle 740

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Her body fills to perfection the fabric that exposes a form that is in  harmony with the robes it dwells within. They neither bind nor expose too fully the chaos of her aging body. Her upper arms are enigmas that dwell always in the caves of the sleeves of one garment or another. A rope of beads swings from her neck like a pendulum, swaying between pert breasts that do not behave according to their age.

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 740, the pormpt words are: robes exposed bind beads fabric form harmony chaos cave enigma dwells well

“Magnanimity” for The Sunday Whirl, Jan 11, 2026

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Magnanimity

Truth works its ancient magic, shaping a fluid world––
moment after moment coming slowly unfurled.
Whatever force holds power to shift errant mankind
beams blunt messages to Earth hoping we will find
those who will stifle envy and hate and greed to sow
seeds of magnanimity for all of those they know
are in need of shelter or clothing, food or care,
abolishing injustices, stripping  falsehoods bare.
That scroll upon which truth is written, unfurled once again,
reveals what some in power have called truth is really sin.

Prompt words for The Sunday Whirl are: beam blunt works moment own shape ancient envy truth scroll shift fluid

“Hearts” For The Sunday Whirl 375

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Hearts

Hearts on hooks sweep back and forth
from east to west to south to north,
hung on chains where they are caught,
dizzy from what fate has wrought.
While other shocked hearts steam and swell,
 bound tight to sticks in their own hell.
Whether held by chain or stock,
hearts the world over feel the shock
while you, I hope, possess a heart
that’s been free from the very start.

For The Sunday Whirl 735 the prompts are: hook sway hearts strip chain dizzy sweep you stick swell steam shock