Shall I Write

Wordle 36 - The Sunday Whirl

Leave it to me to turn the words of the season into a lament!

Shall I Write

Shall I write

Shall I heed the decree

Put forth by heart at birth

The simple directions to me

Shall I write

I’ve pondered the mystery

Of the chains which bind

And hinder the journey to me

Shall I write

Or is their fear of pending joy

Peace in the familiar

‘Fear of success’ theory employed

Shall I write

Of shepherds calling the lost

Glad tidings whispered in the darkness

The heard forgotten – at what cost

Shall I write

Or stay in the cold, straw manger

Deny angels presenting clear proof

That ease need not be a stranger

Shall I write

For me or publication

I shall, however

The ‘will’ needs motivation

Wordle #16 - White House of Hell

White House of Hell

Rusty prophets swept in last month

Foaming spittle, anticipation of the hunt

Morning rose tender with promise

And fate blew its seductive kiss

Soon the walk of talk stumbled and fell

Sun set on the white house of hell

Cement buckled and the veil shred

Torments of greed’s lusty bed

Take notes clearly dear people

Of the crawling scars in yonder steeple

The Voices Prattle - Wordle#15

The voices prattle on ceaselessly and senselessly,

regardless of scenery, blistered cement or mountain mists.

Replacing bumpin’ Chevy’s with a crickets’ ratchet or

intoxicated screams with wilderness howls did little

to silence the jangle of the juried sentence.

The image of dedicated creator, immersed in serenity

splinters into proclaimed reality of sameness.

“Wherever you are…” rattles the clichéd voice,

proving its limited dimensions. But, “If it’s not broken…”!

Success of past destruction breeds repetitive mimicry.

Ambitions vision stutters on, sprouts hardy greenery

resistant to the blathering of fear-mongering flatulence.

This delicious weed pierces the fortress of holy babble and

emerges, flowering victorious, nutritious, and fruitful.

The Twist of Forged Fate - Wordle #14

The Twist of Forged Fate

Chance that the journey is but a parting of the curtains, be they white ruffled chintz or thick brown velvet. Illumination floods, transported on the rush of winds. The revealed is rendered momentarily blind yet, marvels as clouds caress her skin and souls’ scent tickles. The whir of promise shatters the silence of fear. She blinks, and the reprehensible is scattered, splintered; gilded flakes fall to the ground, swallowed by daylilies and dogwood petals. She stands majestic in the twist of forged fate.

The Void Is All An Illusion - Wordle 13

The Void Is All An Illusion

Surrounded by lush emerald, jade, forest, and mint;

auburn, gold, and russet jostles within to herald

the celestial autumnal arrival. Ivy wraps the balcony

in a rhythmic pantomime with mountain breezes.

There’s a flap in that breeze. Once ominous, now joyous.

For the bones realize the void is all an illusion.