Raindrops streaming down windows
fingers tracing a line
doing nothing
Slinking into the shadows
away from the fray
being idle, watching the rain
nothing to do, or say
no need to try
everything just is something
you’re not dazzled
like a moth
with all those blinding lights
glaring back from the sheen on the streets
like foxes eyes
the night a predator
sharp and free
but you won’t be the prey
in which it seeks
sunday wordle
Wordle: I cry my land it’s tears
I cry my land it’s tears
touching the winter
in frost
the wheels of time having churned
our vigil to summer
burning in candlelight
Learning what living looks like
in winter time
when skeletal remains of leaves
dissolve into carpets of dirt
I didn’t manage to use all the words in the list.
Sunday wordle on a Monday: No prince
I picture her shimmering in the wind
sin, etched on her face
in the shape of a grin
disorderly conduct
a glimmer in her eyes
the girl without a name
always dropping by
and when she comes close
stories rise
about the miles and miles she’s been
looking for frogs to kiss
and now she knows there is no prince
Sunday wordle: Children of the storm
We are the children of the storm
hung out to dry on the washing line
it’s all the fashion all the rage
to be outraged
a surge of hate
to counter our ‘revolution’
because we’re freaks
not ready for the role of human
Sunday wordle: Tennis ball
The world is a tennis ball
we’re unravelling her skin
we’re only animals
trying to eat
but we took too much
from the feast
We are a shadow on the earth
turning ourselves into stone
with language that separates us
from the fire in the flame
we burned
Sunday wordle: Writer’s block
[Put words here]
I can’t seem to hit the right vein
For the air to take and create.
The team of little critters in my brain
Have taken a break
My enemy
He confesses my torrid soul
He is my inward dialogue
Traversed outward
Sunday Wordle on a Monday
We saturate our souls
with veils
and silky shadows
hiding broken truths
behind music
Writing practice
Trying to cajole myself into practice
Too close to losing it while having something
Preferring to be wild with noting to lose
Drafted
Wired by the violence
That mars our existence
Your face is stormy silence
Drafted into this war
Dragging guilt through the sands
Of the desert
Dry lips
Grenade in your belt at the hips
Shrapnel
It’s a gamble
As you grapple
Life at the end of a barrel
Keep your eyes on the medal
Framed on the mantel
One wrong move
Watch your manner
You don’t know who might wield the hammer
Eyes wide
Never closed
Can’t afford to be a star after death
You want that cigar at the end
Clenched between your teeth
Instead of bullets.
