(Day 16, 2017)
ever the scapegrace (his position aside)
given no quarter of tolerance
for sudden nicotine cravings…
mealy-mouthed and queasy from years
of parapraxis and gelatinous back-bone…
he longed for a fusion of wit and wisdom
to complement his vast popularity.
Then at last came the day that a spark
took flare and he enacted a non-smoking law
of dubious but far-reaching value.
© Sometimes, 2017
Run ye guttersnipes!
into the night, past lanterns
that glow after dusk
‘Tis late—past the hour
the spectral chorus begins,
witching hour is nigh.
Time when the evening
has waned, brawlers served notice ,
and shutters closed for the night.
Button yer collar
pull down your cap…cover cold ears
beware the Crow’s Smile o’er the tavern door.
‘Tis but a birdcage that serves as a jail,
unless and until someone pays the bail!
Sleep safely and warm where you can.
© Sometimes, 2016.
*WORDLE #123, Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie prompt, 10-4-16 https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/10/03/wordle-123-october-3rd-2016/
This is a Wordle for Special Edition “Touch” MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie, August 29, 2016 Challenge. https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/08/29/wordle-special-addition-touch-august-29th-2016/#respond
This is not my usual fare, but here is the short vignette that I wrote using many, if not all, of the Wordle words given for the challenge.
to die in Satin…
Feverish now, thrashing among sodden sheets
grown bristly and coarse, soaked with salty tears
in a tangible horror of torturous linen…
no smoothing touch of pumice could relieve,
to sharply barbed cloth…once satiny to the touch…
The dying man’s angular body wracked with agony,
viscous sweat turning waxy his once swarthy skin
as rigidity overcame and replaced malleability.
“Oh! Let me die!” he entreated those who
could do nothing else.