Tag Archives: The Sunday Whirl

“Family Stories” For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 718, Aug 10, 2025

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Ben Dykstra (My dad) age 13.

Family Stories

My father’s stories were not tales of moral principles or prophecy,
but rather reenactments of his roots—
tales of the open endless prairie
and the characters who peopled it.
Mirrors reflecting what seemed to me
to be a distant past:
forays to neighboring town dances
(told in the voice of  Deafie Sterner)
to “See the leetle women.”

Tales of Hank Jarneck, Cousin Louie
and Grandma’s liniment cake.
Accounts of gray wolves, prairie fires,
children lost in winter blizzards
and reenactments of the  voices of the wind
whistling through wall planks
and around the door during a winter blizzard.

In those days of my childhood before travel,
they presented a way to journey through time—
leading me back to my father’s roots—
allowing him to make those memories last
through another generation.
The debris of his life’s past
thus building the foundation
of mine.

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 718 the words are: voices time story debris present
lead doors roots prophecy last mirror

“Souvenirs” For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 717, Aug 3, 2025

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Souvenirs

Not all souvenirs are ones that we can touch––
statues, postcards, T-shirts, baskets, rings and such.
We buy such things to crack the windows to the past
to try to free those memories that we know won’t last.
Yet memory itself is a siren that can free
remembrance in melodies that we cannot see
except in mental echoes that come wave after wave,
showing us for free what our mind chooses to save.
Whether they prompt nostalgia to excite or soothe or sting,
deep within our minds are souvenirs of everything.

 

 

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 717, the prompt words are: souvenirs free touch know cracks siren window waves sting show ring give. Image by Bianca Ackerman on Unsplash.

Catching the Ball for the Sunday Whirl Wordle, July 27, 2025

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Catching the Ball

The edge of truth floats shimmering preparing to unveil
behavior we need warnings of that lie beyond the pale.
Strange doings that we should avoid. Actions we should fear.
Dark magic that sparks whispers of dangers far and near.
Beware those creatures of the dark that woo us with their wiles—
shedding their true natures by obscuring them with smiles.
Fortune can be  a swift-paced ball. Best catch it in your mitt
lest you forget to reach for it and, instead, get hit.

For the Sunday Whirl, the words are: ball whispers shimmering unveil hits strange shedding edge creature sparks fear magic  Image by Benjamin Hershey on Unsplash.

“When It Comes to Meeting Dragons,” For Wordle 715

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When It Comes To Meeting Dragons

Inside the skins of dragons churn secrets I know well,
but things I glimpse inside of them are stories I can’t tell.
They cradle dark illusions that when exposed to light
stir emotions that give birth to horror and to fright.
These feelings stage a battle, drawing into the game
flashes of trepidation–and feelings I won’t name.
So when it comes to meeting dragons,please remain on the fringe,
for in close proximity,  you’re sure to get a singe!!!

Word prompts for Wordle 715 are: churn secret battle names glimpse cradle skins dragons stir flash fringe illusion.   Photo by Ravit Sages on Unsplash.

“Missing You” For the Sunday Whirl Wordle #714, July 13, 2025

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Missing You

      The only true space is that one formerly occupied by your laugh, now missing as my world fills in around me–you missing as a piece of it. I send this letter on a mission to find you and bring you back to face the music and explain why you walked out, fists clenched, never to return, firing your former life and loves to leave us all here, disconsolate, our loneliness brewing that weak decoction that lacks you–the most vital element of our world’s infusion.

 

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle #714 the prompt words are: face fire fists walk brewing back only true space piece mission laugh

“Summer Nights” for The Sunday Whirl Wordle June 29, 2025

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Summer Nights

Maneuvered by some radar
through the summer night,
haunted  fluttering creatures
are captured by the light,
soaring over the river,
then swooping down to swing
lower to catch tasty
morsels on the wing.
A thousand tiny little eyes
strung out far below,
draw these winged predators
everywhere they go.
Rattlesnakes lie coiled
beside their shed-off skins
far from the pebbled riverbanks,
safe within their dens
as legendary wing tips
flap quietly higher
ripping through the midnight skies
lit by our camping fire.

 

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle the prompt words are: radar string eyes haunted legends swing rattle river skin tip pebble rips

For The Sunday Whirl 711, June 22, 2025

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                                                           Getty image 

War Games

Peaceful visions stream into space and speed along their way
as our president plays war games, deciding its the day
that he’ll become a soldier, bone spurs a lesser grief––
his soldiering tasks much easier as Commander in Chief
sitting in his desk chair, pushing buttons that
could bring about a world war (wearing his MAGA hat.)

These seeds of war he’s planted grow roots that quickly spread
around a breathing living world so easily turned dead.
Our freedom’s being stifled, the body of our nation
brought down by the curatailment of our health and education.
As this child plays his war games, are his minions listening
for the sounds of bombs in the sunlight swiftly glistening

speeding toward their targets in the good old U.S.A.
perhaps trained on the cities where your children play?
The Bible gives the message of an eye for an eye,
so as you hear the bombs they’ve returned swiftly going by,
will you finally admit that this man that you’ve elected
is one you might more wisely have summarily rejected?

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle #711 the prompt words are: sitting free space go roots body stream breathe listen seeds peace vision. (Getty image)

“Bad Tenants” for The Sunday Whirl, June 15, 2025

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Bad Tenants

Those caravans of daily life proceed at what a cost?
The breath of forests stifled by the clouds of their exhaust.
As we trace our progress mile on mile spent behind the wheel,
the tracks we leave behind us leave scars that will not heal.

We have bundled up our legends and published them in books,
sealed safe between those covers where no one ever looks.
“Oh beautiful for spacious skies and amber waves of grain”
mere lyrics, that though touching, may be sung in vain.

We tend to think that nature is simply meant for viewing,
as we overlook all of those other things we should be doing
to save our fields and forests from pesticides and other
misdeeds brought about by man, lest at last we smother

that Earth that feeds and shelters us in spite of what we’ve done
to bring about our end on this third planet from the sun.
We worry about meteors that pelt us from the skies.
Meanwhile overlooking where the greater danger  lies.

 

For The Sunday Whirl, the prompt words are: clouds caravan breath forests track trace wheel touch pelts tends legends bundles.

An Apologia for Indolence, For the Sunday Whirl Wordle, June 1, 2025

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An Apologia for Indolence

Those beasts that prowl the underworld with claws uncoiled to strike
assume the right to wander anywhere they like.
They thread their ways through canyons, all over the map––
through every twisting river’s course, through every mountain gap.
Stuck tight to their temples are their matted strands of hair.
Masked by tree limbs and tall grasses, they maintain their vigilance where
a hunter or a camper or a homeless, shiftless sort
unschooled in the ways of beasts, chooses to cavort.
Thus do those loved ones vanish who choose to exercise
while at home are resting those of us who are more wise!!!

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle, the words are: prowl beast claws shift strands twists  wander underworld map thread

 

Junior Prom, for The Sunday Whirl Wordle 708

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Junior Prom

Remember your first ball gown floating in the light
of the high school gymnasium, lit up for the night
with stars bound up in streamers  and even paper trees
wound around the trellises, leaves swaying in the breeze.

Bare shoulders on each teenage girl, stiff collars on each date
as they enter the prom’s runway with their chosen mate.
Rhinestone crowns fixed firmly to each mounded lock,
with pins that soon go flying to the strains of “Jailhouse Rock.”

Young spirits cool and groovy–feeling they might freak
decades before their need to present themselves as chic.
That one night of fantasy of all nights in the year––
slow music your permission to draw each other near.

For the Sunday Whirl, the words are: remember gown ball runway floating light mound crown bare chic stars spirit

This really is a photo of my junior prom. I’m the one in the shocking red dress and red heels! Looks like everyone else chose pastels and white shoes.