WORDLE #200

For Sunday Whirl:

ELUSIVE

Delicate shapes are forming
beneath an umbrella of
kaleidoscopic petals
longing yearning forever
the too blue skies of freedom

Impossibly tiny shrines
post apocalyptic tombs
hopeless, fearless and dreamless
perched on a mantle of peace

Until or indeed unless
that river of blood runs dry
still the deal remains uncut

WORDLE #198

For Sunday Whirl:

SOUND OFF

So wound up you're fit to burst
First you try to to break the glass
Alas can't damage the seal
Feel a fool, take a tumble
A fumble fit for a clown
Drown your sorrows, drink your fill
Instill a sense of release
Fleece them for round after round
Emit not another sound

WORDLE #197

For Sunday Whirl:

ALMOST RUN

Spread the news, it's official
The Patron Saint of Something
Is coming to my rescue

She can afford to spend time
away from her cloud on high
and that ever ticking clock
She observes this Holy day
and achieves a state of grace
with a certain measure of
let's call it 'humility'
The perfect host welcomes me
as my race is almost run