Tag Archives: The Sunday Whirl

As Above Not As Below: For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 544

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As Above, Not As Below

I’m plodding, I’m plodding to the sacred north.
It takes all my power as I journey forth.
Is it possible I walk on air? I must examine twice
the ground I pass over, then I see I tread on ice
frozen to translucence, so I see the world beneath—
another watery world below, protected ‘neath its sheath.

Spellbinding order reigns below with creatures slipping by,
protected from the thunder of a threatening sky.
When lightning hits behind me, I hurry helter-skelter,
searching for protection from any nearby shelter.
But alas, here up above is not as below.
So near and yet so far away is that undertow.

Caught in my world, I pass above where I would choose to stay.
It flows beneath me peacefully as I pass away.

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 544 prompt words are: north order hits thunder search freeze journey spellbinding power sacred

When I see the disenfranchised and homeless passing through our town coming from South or Central America with nowhere to go back to and yet having no place here and no real place to go to, I wonder how they feel, observing us in our lives that must seem perfect and without problems. To see and not to be able to have must be a heartrending situation.

Big Mac (For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 552)

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Big Mac

That  alchemy turns lead to gold may be more than lore,
or so says Modern Physics*, but MacDonald’s does much more
by making gold and silver out of snack bar food,
feeding Big Macs, shakes and fries to a hungry brood.
Drunk fools go there for coffee, lonely hearts go to make friends.
Why we greet the golden arches more or less depends
on what we feel we’re lacking. Sometimes, company will do.
Or you may need a hamburger, in fact you may need two.
After you have plowed your furrows, changing clods to dirt,
wipe the soil from your hands and change your soiled shirt
and head out to McDonald’s. You’ll never rue the day
when you order Macs and fries and tuck them all away.
You may have flunked your physics test, my dear, but never mind.
The golden arches provides comfort of the tastebud kind.

*“What is Alchemy? – Live Science https://www.livescience.com › 39314-alchemy Mar 24, 2016 — Alchemy is the ancient practice of trying to turn lead into gold. Modern physics equipment may finally make that quest a reality.”

Wordle prompts for The Sunday Whirl: 552 : sometimes never snack bar drunk fools gold silver alchemy physics dirt clod.  Image by Amirali Mirhashemian on Unsplash.

Moon Doggies at Zero Gravity : Wordle 551

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Moon Doggies at Zero Gravity

If you were going to the moon how would you train a pup
if every time he used the box, his efforts floated up?

Would you relish an eternity of pets leaving a trail
embellishing the ceiling every time they raised their tail?

Every time a planet went flashing swiftly by,
you’d miss the spectacle of it. I’ll tip you off just why.

You’d be a pet detective with your private eye
checking for doggie caca that might be floating by.

We’ve all heard of Moondoggies, but they’re a different kind.
To date all moon explorers have left their dogs behind.

 

Prompts this week for the Sunday Whirl Wordle 551 are: pet eternity boxflash detective check relish planets embellish moon tip. Image by John Baker on Unsplash.

After the Storm: Wordle 549 For Sunday Whirl

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After the Storm

My former blithe spirit is rocked by the rain,
but I’ll dry it out and use it again.

I fold up my heart and tuck it away
in case I should need it some future day.

The lingering legs of love walk the floor
long after the time he walked out the door.

Preferring the narrows, the reefs and the gales
to the calm of safe harbors, his  ship stretched  its sails.

Now he sits in a vase, secure on my shelf,
while I pace in seclusion, all by myself.

The Sunday Whirl prompt words are: ship lingering legs instead narrow stretch door heart vase fold rocked rain

Night and Day

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Night and Day

I memorize your face, your hair,
your breath white light upon cold air.
Hours pass like minutes while
I chart the borders of your smile.

A wisp of cloud, sliver of moon
slip behind the highest dune.
The stars have plans that drive the night
to plots that I will later write.

Fictions Imagined by me,
no match for their reality.
Then, sun rays sent to ban the night
obscure the moon and stars from sight.

A chiming bell is morning’s crime
dispelling pleasures most sublime,
but if I linger long, I might
survive the day to earn the night.

Prompts are: sliver breath sent plans hours minutes chime drive write light crime match for the Sunday Whirl Wordle 548

Sargasso Sea: Wordle 547

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Sargasso Sea

Your fingertips trace patterns on my open palms,
moons on my forearms, stars on my shoulders.
You void the aches and tensions of a stressful day,
unconsciously skim over borders where no lesser traveler
would be allowed to go. Remote places become your territory.

Strong lines develop where you’ve lightly traced.
The Captain Cook of seduction,
you have skirted my boundaries, charted my seas.
Now my waters part before you and welcome you in—
complicit prisoner of my Sargasso Sea.

 

 

The Sunday Whirl Wordle prompts today are: remote unconsciously cook tracing moon patterns strong star void over fingertips lines, Photos by Birmingham Muse and Nick Moore on Unsplash.

Words Written in Stone

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Words Written in Stone

Facing death is difficult—that slowing of our pace
as we approach a barrier we aren’t ready to face.
I dread that last inscription of letters scribed in stone—
that final epistle denoting me alone.

No food or books or flowers will I see from here above,
so bring me no mementos—no tokens of our love.
You cannot drag me down again with psychic or with seer.
No vigil will reclaim me. There’s no way to bring me near.

We’ll have no tongue between us, no language will we share.
You cannot climb a ladder composed of only air,
and I can’t descend from where I’ll be, and so my dear, accept
your fresh life that is nourished by these tears that you have wept.

.

Prompt words for Wordle 544 of the Sunday Whirl
are: book ways vigil death memento drag letters inscription barrier tongue climb face.

Toyless: Wordle 543

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Toyless

We are refugees from childhood and the gadgets from the past,
for hula hoops are out of date and Play-Doh doesn’t last.
No bean bags soar toward targets. No Pop-Its crack and hiss.
Millions of Wooly Willys will forever miss
their metal filing hairdos and, it’s true, what’s more,
pump-handle tops won’t spin away to whirl across the floor.

Potatoes doomed to peeling and slicing up for fries
miss Mr.Potato Head’s hats and ears and eyes.
Down what timeworn corridors have all our past lives fled?
Where are all the vestiges of playtimes that we led?
How can we track our losses when toy store staffs insist
that the treasures of our past, alas, do not exist?

Davy Crocket Coonskin caps no longer are the rage.
Beanie caps with propellers are not worn at any age.
Peashooters aren’t in evidence. Nor is Silly Putty.
Give a kid a Milking Cow and they’ll think you are nutty. 
No slinkies climb down stair steps. No Hungry Hippos snap.
No Cabbage Patch Kids hang around to share a toddler’s nap.

Our childhood pleasures are passé. We may as well admit it.
All the things that we found fun? New kids just do not get it!

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle, prompts for this week are:
target fled millions live crack last refugee corridor gadgets losses staff track

Turning the Tables

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Turning the Tables

The turtle stuck his neck out to see where he was going,
but might have hidden in his shell if he had means of knowing

that the chef had plans for turtle soup, so caught him at the threshold
and put his hands around his neck so he could gain a flesh hold.

But such plans “gang aft astray.” The turtle put a spin on
and designed a different course from  one that he had been on.

He dragged that gourmet chef along and headed for the sea.
Their noise of battle was the thing that awakened you and me.

We put our vinyl raincoats on and fiddled with the locks,
scooting feet into our shoes, devoid of any socks.

No moonlight eased our journey, for rainclouds obscured all,
and amidst the raindrops, we commenced to slip and fall.

Around us, many turtles were streaming towards the sea,
intent upon their journey. Ignoring you and me.

So we turned back homeward, to sit upon our stoop
imagining those turtles enjoying human soup.

 

Prompt words for The Sunday Whirl are: turtle neck shell hidden
but design no spin fiddle amidst noise vinyl

For Wordle 542 Image by Dusan Veverkolog on Unsplash.

Sue Bee Honey: Wordle 538, Jan 30, 2022

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Sue Bee Honey

Once a year, their trucks would leave trails through our fields of sweet clover and my father returned from the fields with  combs of honey still in their wooden frames, dripping rich streams that blackened the dust of  the sidewalk between the back driveway and the porch, where he propped them up against the porch railing to drain into huge clay bowls.

Sue Bee Honey, rich and golden and speckled with tiny corpses of the bees who made it. Those two purloined combs were the price he exacted for allowing them to put their hives onto our land. I swear I could smell that honey on the wind long before he brought it back to share with the family—our year’s supply that we would filter through screens to remove broken bits of wax and bee bodies and pour into bottles to line a foot-long space on the narrow shelves of the pantry.

I remember breaking off a piece of the broken comb to chew like sugared gum—sweet July memories of summer as well as later memories of the silken feel of that honey trailed onto hot buttered corn muffins in the morning. It solved my winter hunger for sweet and fueled me up for a morning of  books and chalkboards and sharpened pencils on blue-lined rough yellow paper.

 

The prompt words  for  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 538 are: broken silk dust leaving truck family sign hunger wind books honey and black. Two of the images are by  Alisa Reutova and Mariana Ibanez  on Unsplash.