Hate knawls at me
Teeth chewing on leather
Absolving my indifference
Price of caring varies
But doing nothing is free
Time slips away like sand
You can’t see darkness
You can only sense empty
Despondent memories grow
Lingering to poison me
Souring the breaths I take
Low and tight, I grab at tree roots. My simple gravel path trimmed to a knife’s edge. My eyes caught a climb away from vertigo inspiring view. A stomach in knots, joins other spreading pains like gingham pattern.
I grab a branch to rise, only to receive a pine scented water spray when it slips slowly away.
My hand skims the turbulent surface of Lake August. The electric motor whines as the minutes slide from the clock. My heart races. My cargo needs hiding. Daylight doesn’t creeps in to my view, revealing a tiny shed in a rugged lawn.
Who knew too much lust and a pillow could end this way.
Gentle flame dances
Upon unsettled winds
We see the light
It holds our way forward
Shadows will reach us
They tell us its dimming
But still the light glows
It has shown for generations
Twilight always brought tomorrow
Our faith rewarded every time
The flame speaks if we listen
It burns brightest against the dark
These truths are self evident
We are our own masters
But do we stay in the light
Freedom is ours to share
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.