This week I am filling in – Wordle credit to Yves.
- sleeping bag
- wastrel (noun). a wasteful or good-for-nothing person.
- wanderjahr (noun). A year spent travelling abroad, typically immediately before or after a university or college course.
Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem
The words can appear in an alternate form
Use the words in any order that you like.
Tag: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle
“Wastrel?!” I stand breathless as my fists cease to clutch. “You, my dear are tighter than an octopus squeezing every pennyworth rather than chase fresh meat.”
“I’ll raise a pint to that metal you received from the wanderjahr spent marooned in your hometown.” She smiles in that way the ceases hope.
“I was a model for God’s sake!” She sneers at heart pathetic staff. “How could you let me go out wearing this? It says ‘I don’t care Do U?’ people will think I am a monster!”
The first lady throws the coat against the wall.
No one speaks. The eyes are locked on the floor it’ll be a long flight back.
She stands arms on hoops waiting for one of them to come tell her it’ll be alright. They don’t.
She reaches a glass of water. Her throat dry freedom the outside air.
Slowly the water freezes dripping ice over the side.
“No one say a word” whispers a staffer
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa. Thank you Enisa!
I look up to the skies
Sapphire blue stretches
Feathers of white scatter about
My eyes search for storms not there
My ears hear thunder still
Cool wind hints of moisture
It stirs humid stagnant air
Faint smells are carried to me
I know it but it still eludes identity
Still I hear distant thunder
The dryness of the soil calls
It speaks in cracks and groans
Once fertile harbor for floral beauty
Slowly the green leaves the landscape
It hopes it hears thunder
Forgotten Rain Gods watch on
Helpless as they are now nameless
Their tears no longer flow to the ground
Theirs is a hope that nature answers soon
They feel the distant thunder
Still I stare at the blue sky
Depth without substance again
I do not wish to curse the light again
My heart waits without patience
For that distant thunder
Like a shard of glass
I fell it under skin
I’m restless and consumed
Simple things concern me
Most do not affect me
But still they linger on
headlines tell me ‘be afraid’
Enemies changing spinning..
like a wheel rolling down a road
They grow faster than I count
My pulse quickens as it moves on
I know reality once upon a time
Now I knows fear and anger
The voices tell me the darkness grows
They don’t tell me who controls the switch
Credit: Candice of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie
12. Thewless – Adjective. thewless (not comparable) (obsolete) Lacking morals or virtue. Lacking vigour or energy; listless; weak; nerveless
I’m postponing the next corresponding move. She knows I’ll make a deasil path. There’s are finite ways to revolve within her drab ginger world. Best to approach thewlessly, any signs of envy must be counterweighted by contempt. Her personality pressurize the simplest thingsn like saying ‘hello’
I pass the old black tower alone. The late Sun rays tell my presences. My shot at passing without being called upon seems to fade. I fiddle eighth my hands. Thoughts of becoming a treat for the legendary dragon named Honey harms my spirits.
Ghosts in the daylight
Images lost to early
Tangent thoughts scattered
We lie dormant
Waiting to be seen
Hoping for second glance
Pieces hodgepodged into one
The collection, ourselves
Illusions for any occasion
My mask hangs beside me
I’ll take one from the wall
You only see the surface
Rip-tides await you underneath
Ghosts in the daylight
What we really are