it ended before it began

In the gaudy glow of afterbirth
a field mouse burrows its hantavirus hole,
unknowingly pulling Hank the Hired Man
into death’s murmuring abyss.
His chest undulates convulsions
while Misty Winston, the Rancher’s Daughter
touches his common cheek
unafraid of Daddy’s inky wrath.

Her hero lies dying
spinning his way into
purple nothingness.

He stills and her beating heart breaks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hantavirus is an often-fatal respiratory disease carried by field mice. It occurs with low incidence in Montana. Its onset is not as sudden as the piece makes it seem. It starts with flulike symptoms and progresses from there. This piece was from the wordle words at a whirling whirl of Sundays.

mother me a meteor

She orbits, a planet
turning against her
striding self,
afraid of fallen angels
frolicking in yellow fields,
afraid of crying winds
whisking hair into tails—
wild things,
winding life with leaves
whipping in the gravity
of twilight’s last glow.

She envies each of the planets
and dreams herself a meteor
falling a fiery hole into Earth
free from fear forever.

She orbits like a planet
parched and pierced with
no intent and purpose.
Round and round and
round
she goes—
if she stops
she never knows.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This piece was inspired by words from a Wallace Stevens' poem pulled and posted at a wordling whirl of Sundays. Click on the wordle to visit other responses to the words. You'll be glad you did.

yellow

Yellow rolls down
steep green hills
where angels
surrender
flight.

They risk disappointing the Absolute
just to smell yellow in.

Rearranged angels
on the wane
lull themselves
through windows
into carnal beds

Beneath dreams
they utter words like Rapture
and dance among
the yellow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Click on the wordle to see other people's responses to the wordle below at AWWS.

Jebediah's Fire

Brandishing hips holstered
in leather and rhinestones
her wide brimmed hat filters catcalls,
sunlight, and Jebediah’s rural stare.

She feels him like a chimney
eking smoke up her stack.

Distant bridges whisper stories
textured with his touch.
Lost in lustful reverie
salty infusions begin to erupt
evoking an image
of her gecko slurping
sweat from her brow.

Touching the brim of her hat
she tilts it up, stops and
stares Jebediah straight on.

Before substituting one sure thing for another
she pulls her hat back down
and draws both Colts lightning quick:
twelve shots, twelve bottles shattered.

Jebediah’s mile wide smile
sets her chimney on fire.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This wordle inspired piece came from a wordle I created from three poets' work.  Check out other poets uses of the wordle words, or join the party and submit your own poem.

Click for A Wordling Whirl of Sundays

The River

She breathes as its current embroiders seaweed
through tiny holes in spirit.
Water slides beneath her.
Branches tug at her hair, snap
and become part of the flow.
The river supersedes her.

In the morning
mist rises and evaporates.
Released from darkness
she eddies,
a silver white glisten
floating on the Mighty Mo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Wednesday this week, the body of a missing young woman was found in the Missouri River in my community near where we walk our dogs.  Every year somebody drowns.  Foul play is suspected in this instance, but no one knows what happened.  This piece was inspired by that event, and by a wordle made up of the words of poets many of you visit every day. Look for a new wordle every week, and visit the work of other inventive poets at A Wordling Whirl of Sundays.  We'd love to have you join the group and write with us.  A new wordle is posted every Sunday night at 12:01 a.m. Mountain Standard Time.

NaPoWriMo 24 ~ Wordle Launch

This is my first response to a wordle at a wordling whirl of Sundays. I had no idea that this piece would evolve from those words; it is quite dark. The first two lines came, and I mulled them over. I decided to just go for it, and write this piece from the perspective of someone who is the creep’s captive. I watch enough crime drama on television that the rest came easily. The last two lines are a Zen koan. They refer to the idea that seeing the Buddha means it is separate somehow from yourself. That image is an illusion. It is not the true essence of Buddhist practice.

cheap and horrible nows

Sharp and piquant the creep’s sweat
diminishes everything else
quenching her desire to live.

Dragon tattoos
clench talons around
children’s pinwheels
in a horrible tug-of-war
while he squeezes his
“magic muscle show
to replenish her soul.”

Over and over
until she finally understands
eternal Nows.

Cheap tissue covers bones.

Illusion steals the real.
Illusion steals the real.

If you see the Buddha on the road,
kill him.

NaPoWriMo ~ Sunday Wordle for You

After a handful of poets responded with a piece to last Sunday’s wordle prompt, I created another one. I pulled these words from the works of three poets who posted their poems at Writer’s Island today. Four words each came from Andy Sewina’s She Can Laugh, Whistler’s Annunciation by Ron at Scrambled not Fried, and Pamela Sayers’ Mr. Corruption.  Thank you all for your poetry.

My piece came quickly.  The last three lines are a haiku and a riddle.  It is a literary reference.   It feels post apocalyptic to me.  If you want to give it a go, link to your piece in the comment section.  We are one third through April!

rambling rumblings

scrambling scumbags laugh
as they scatter through the
hundred year old hovels
of their underground minds
where dandelions remind them
of their gloomy youth
as feeble orphans
fed on fury
a crucial component of corrugated ash


words disintegrate
in cobwebs as some pig hums
about a spider


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I posted this at Writer's Island so more of you can rise to the prompt.  As we say, the more the merrier!

Wordle prompt for your use

Here's a Wordle created from Sylvia Plath's Mirror, Emily Dickinson's The Railway Train, and a piece I wrote after reading those two pieces. Four words from each piece made the wordle. If anyone wants a prompt, give this wordle a whirl. I'll post a piece tomorrow, and would love to see you give it a try! If you use the wordle, link it here, or in tomorrow's Bozone post.  Thanks for stopping by!