Tag Archives: Wordle

The Old Homestead: For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 590

 

(Click on photos to enlarge.)

The first photo is of my grandparents and two aunts and their families. The third photo is my dad and his cousins, my grandmother Jane and her sister Susie and my oldest sister Betty Jo as a child.

The Old Homestead

Its barn is thick with echoed thrust
of wings long faded into dust.
The barn owl hunts no rodent ghosts,
no drumming wings the still air boasts.

Those boards you walked now topped with blooms
of mildew, mold and wild mushrooms
that cling and spread and flood the room
with peaceful quiet and sombre gloom.

What footfalls that you might have made
are soon absorbed and so they fade.
Your presence, vital long ago
barely interrupts the flow

of time that passes here so slow.
No lowing cattle, no rooster’s crow.
No bleat of lamb, no donkey’s bray.
All that once was has passed away.

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 590 the prompt words are: barns thick clung topped blooms walked spread drumming faded hunt peace floods

Life with Dogs, Déjà Vu for Sunday Whirl Wordle 589

Déjà vu. For some reason these prompt words for the Sunday Whirl Wordle 589 led me into a restatement of a blog I wrote 14 hours ago in what felt like the late hours of yesterday but what were really the early hours of today. It was to me as though I’d only thought it before and not written it down. It was only after I’d written this and reread the earlier blog that I realized I’d told the same story twice in different words. These are the prompt words you’ll find repeated below in the story:  lockdown watch danger hunt challenge glass flesh gathering disrupt murder craft cut

Life with Dogs

Well after lockdown, my sentinels are watchful for any signs of danger. Even after their eyes close and their flesh surrenders to sleep, their ears hunt for signs of murder, mayhem or possums. I am fully awake minutes after their last return from a wild charge out the space left by the sliding glass door which I have left open the width of the security bars so they can exit as needed, not to meet the challenge of intruders, but rather to execute those calls of nature which I am most sympathetic with, being of that age when at the least one or two calls of nature disrupt my sleep nightly.

Darkness gathers me into its arms as I close my eyes once more and finally find a position comfortable enough to remain in for the remainder of the night when once again, Zoe’s loud high sliding crescendo of a bark cuts through the darkness, her claws cutting into my stomach as she uses it for a launching pad off the bed and out the door. These are the movements of a gymnast performing her high leaps with seemingly no effort—more an art than a craft—and my ears strain to hear any noise of combat, any running feet or crashing through the bushes and over the wall. Instead I hear one high keening scream, quickly cut off. It is a sound I’ve never heard before and I imagine some small creature giving voice to its death protest or a possum giving a squeal of warning , but the dog is back again so quickly that I can’t imagine any combat has occurred.

Another past-midnight mystery of life with dogs. I roll over on my left side to reach over the side of the bed and lift Zoe up for the third time this evening, and when I do, Coco crawls into the warm spot I have left. Rolling back to the right again, I push hard against her to reclaim my space and Zoe moves into the space that I make on the left side as I do so, then walks with no guilt over my breast an stomach to settle herself into the cleft between my legs. I move them apart slightly to settle some of her weight onto the mattress and try to settle myself back to sleep.

Costume Check: The Sunday Whirl Wordle #588


Costume Check

Let me stand here for a moment hidden in the shade,
for my tank top strap is broken right by my shoulder blade.
I’ll shuffle off to mend it when the band starts up again,
but will stand here nearly silent as a statue until then.

My arms are wrapped around me, holding things in place,
for with one side that’s set free, I’m not ready to face
the folks up in the grandstand staring down at me.
Their half-time entertainment I do not want to be!

I’m a living manifestation of how things fall apart,
for the garment that once hugged my frame now hangs below my heart.
The breeze blows yellow pollen downward from the trees
to coat my arms and shoulders and makes me want to sneeze.

Oh that I’d brought the handy shawl Mom thought that I should bring,
I’d now be in the powder room, fixing everything.
Instead, I stand here cross-armed wishing eyes could be averted
so their perusals of my chest could thereby be diverted.

Prompts for The Sunday Whirl Wordle are: shoulder powdery wraps broken shuffle blade stand moment again nearly silence. Image by Racool on Freepix.

New Years Eve: Wordle 586

New Years Eve

Scraps of mindless party chatter
whispered behind backs don’t matter.
Clink of glasses, passed hors d’ouvres,
mastering those party nerves.

Which old boyfriend is a rat?
Which college roommate got so fat?
How have you handled life so far?
What new degree? What brand of car?

Be you in hut or stately castle,
lift your glass or raise the wassail.
Quit petty talk and ribald laughter
and in the silence that comes after,

cash in on the quietude,
of this less ribald interlude
to give your thanks for what has passed
and pledge your petty gripes won’t last!

For Wordle 586 The Sunday Whirl the prompt word are: back chatter laughs glasses champ scrap cash rat handle master pass castle

Colloquy

Colloquy

If you want to float my boat, when you speak your piece,
know when you have made your point and preserve the peace
by resisting going on once you’ve reached your peak.
It’s always best to stop and give others time to speak.

It’s often a consensus that brings matters to right.
Like oil on fire, those who know it all only ignite
conflagrations that make bringing matters to a close
impossible as they attempt their theories to impose.

As tempers flare and anger mounts and epithets are hurled,
as in a drive-by shooting, rank chaos is unfurled.
Pure reason makes its calm retreat, waiting for the day
when each one speaks and then allows others to have their say.

 

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 585  the prompt words are: boat preserve speak resist oil fire drive fly shoot matter close right.

Moonshine, Wordle 584, Dec. 25, 2022


Moonshine

Lustrous moonshine goddess slipping through the stars,
heading off for liaisons with Jupiter and Mars,
songs written in your honor spread moon dust in their lines.
Moonflowers crane their necks and twist upon their vines.

Eyes that scan the heavens as you grow pale and wan
grow stony charting courses where you may have gone.
At the stroke of midnight, they too will fade away—
pale bodies spread upon their cots under the moon’s faint ray.

bwarren posted these prompts on The Sunday WhirlWordle 584
star scan body dust follow grow stroke stony moonshine goddess song slip

Egg Carton Flowers: Art Day at Judy’s House–Wordle 582

(Click on Photos to enlarge.)

Egg Carton Flowers: Art Day at Judy’s House

Fairy breath and greedy flush, scissors, paper glue—
they go about the mutual task of everything they do.
Twin sisters, they spill out in life, perpetually torn
apart since that rude splitting the day that they were born.

One demands the pink paint, the other requests blue—
their lips stained orange by Cheetos, fingers covered by goo.
Voices raspy with excitement, they call each other’s bluff
as their grandma hisses fondly, “Girls, that is enough!”

The yellowing sun descends to orange as they end their day
out on the back terrace where they have gone to play.
Safe now that frisky littler dogs are locked behind the screen,
they pet the Scottie’s matted hair, soothed by his gentler mien.

Inside, their older sister helps us clear away their messes.
Not the first time, right? I ask, “No, not quite,” she  confesses.
She fondly rinses paint brushes and points out the incredible—
blue fingerprints on cookies that someone had turned inedible.

The prompt words are bluff torn spill yellowing fairy breath greedy flush soothed safe hiss raspy for Wordle 583 on The Sunday Whirl
Last photo by Harriet Hart. Others by me.

When my good friend Harriet asked if I’d think up a project for her visiting grandaughters, I was pleased to have an excuse to get to know these lovely young ladies. Egg carton flowers it was!!!!

Ruins: The Sunday Whirl Wordle 581

Ruins

The walls of my world are numb to touch.
Split with longing, they stand alone,
the only light inside, my own.

That burning flame that lit my youth
reduced to ashes, has left a gap
to which this poem is a map.

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 581 prompt words are: walls world numb touch spilt longing own burning flame gap light ashes. Image of burned house by Hans Isaacson on Unsplash.

Childhood Games

Childhood Games

Hide-and-seeker, breathing hard, pressed up against the ledge,
her tracker stealing closer around the garden hedge.
“Allie-allie-oxen-all-in-all-in-free”
releases other hiders from behind rock and tree.

Boys and girls together, playing a childhood game.
He tosses up a basketball, showing off his aim.
She braids a dainty daisy chain and lays it on his head.
He shakes it off and tosses it to ring her locks instead.

Each meadow is a jungle, each brook a raging sea
within these childhood cravings, these yearnings to run free.
That house they think is haunted and face with certain dread—
will entry show an empty room or the walking dead?

Some pleading not to open it, others saying, “pull!”
with excitement and with terror, their hearts equally full,
thrilled with excitations or with terrors fraught,
opposite emotions crowd their every thought.

Do you not remember when you felt the same?
How many other childhood games are you able to name?
Red Rover and Parcheesi, Jacks and Kick-the-can—
memories like this reveal the boy within the man.

Prompt words for the Sunday Whirl Wordle # 580 are: ledge dead chain boys doors will crave sea free games steal

Little Nightmares: For The Sunday Whirl 579

Little Nightmares

Dreams spin and whirl and crack and spark,
little fireworks in the dark
that bring to light flashes that last,
glimpses of a far-off past
that grip our memory, strain its seams,
to creep back in and stain our dreams.
They loom above us every night,
waiting for the end of light.

Lords of dark, nightmares of wonder,
wait their turn to clutch and plunder.
Minds gone slack in slumber’s whirl,
they enter in to clutch and curl,
smothering pleasant thoughts of day,
inviting past regrets to play
through our minds, to live anew
little foibles seen in review.

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 579 prompt words today are: spin, creep, loom, whirl, crack, light, grip, stain, curl, glimpse, slack, lord, wonder