Got his fedora on
with it’s ostrich plume
He’s a jaunty chap
He has the pick
From all the chicks
Cuz he’s just chill
And full of tricks
So as they say don’t come knockin’
When that caravan is rockin’
wordle
Sunday Wordle: The village
The village swallowed you whole
And you became strangers
To the tribe you used to know
Even the best friends
As you spat on your hands and shook
A promise of brotherhood
Now everything quakes
In the balance
You thought friendship
Was made in stone
Your pride is hard to swallow
When your undoing was your own
Now you’ve a heart shaped hole
Waiting on the beating
Of another
Sunday Wordle: Dave
He’s drunk on the sly
He snatches another bite
Too many fermented apples
Don’t tell his wife, she thinks she’s the only apple of his eyes
She don’t know he’s not fit to fly
She’ll have a fit when she finds out
He’ll have spun ‘er a yarn or two
But that’s just like our Dave
The sheer cheek of ‘im
I love ‘im all the same.
Sunday wordle: Tethered
The wind whistles through the broken fence
As the day gnaws at the final thread
Where hours echo and fall apart
Leaving imprints on stricken hearts
Where no word can touch upon
As the wheels than turn
Lead us to tethered ends.
Sunday wordle attempt: Shadowing dreams
Ignite your shadow in whispers
Let the tongues utter their rumours
Walking the line you walk
Sending ripples through dreams
Like water
Letting others know
The miracle you have within
Wordle attempt
A soul is better when like
an empty jar
The more spare space
The more free you are
To give the gift of mercy
Upon those too full
Of hurt and hate
Sunday wordle: Map of the world
Smoking another coffin nail
To ease up your stilted words
Trying to get your message out
Tracing all the lines
Of hurt
Like a map of the world
Orange
Seventy-seven years have passed
And you still interpret the world
In bouquets of orange
Breath
The earth sighs its breeze
Like it’s following
The deflation of my lungs
And if you listen carefully
you can hear the leaves
Scrape across pavements
Tasting their crunch
on the tip of my tongue
I reach out to the world
My stone face chiselled by salt water
We sigh again
Like the rising and waning of a wave
Turning still
Bile
I kiss shame
As the bile rises up
Placing primal urges
Back out of reach
In the hopes I won’t follow
Back to these baser instincts
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