Daily Quordle Poem

BE REThy to defend yourthelf. I’m about to
QUACK open your head for making fun of me. Sooner or
LATHEr it was bound to come to thith. A broken thkull
(SKULL!) on your part, some thatithfaction for me.

AGILE I ain’t, with the years piling up, and sitting
AMONG youngsters yahooing soon sends me off for a kip,
FLINGing away care to the soothing arms of the sandman, no SOUND disturbing the distant reaches of my oblivious brain.

DODGY as dogs not on a leash are those who are
LOATH to the idea of keeping their brute in check, their
MACHO approach to dog-walking cavalier, and as for poo,
WHILE they pick it up if it suits them it mostly doesn’t suit.

The
CANAL, after its flood-washed clean, wears a
SHEEN not seen since Adam’s boyhood: the
STEADy hand of God has scoured the side-skins to
UNITE the duct’s fresh grace with its pasture’s broad embrace.      

The Pirate Captain bangs his GAVEL;
the crew prod the blindfolded victim forward onto the PLANK.
‘Stop!’ shouts the chief, you’ll SPOIL
the photo. Stand up straight and don’t STOOP.’

GORGE yer food if ye must but know that yo’ll
SCOUR the pans, and the mixin’ bowl. Ma
SINEWs is WREAKed, wreaked, I say, and it’s
soon I’ll be down with the dust. Ay, dust’s to be my bedroll.

DULLY, with a kitbag, ‘neath the boiling sun, I sweat
FORTH to go where men will pounce on an
OUNCE of gold, and soon I hope to set my
STAMP just west of north, in a dry-bed gully.

The woman brushes past my sleeve, the FLIRT!
My heart rushes, as if to leave my chest, to FLOAT!
And like the moon, now blushing, waned or WAXEN,
Is crushed to see she weaves towards another. Fickle WOMAN!

A GENT at the soiree, suave, sang
TENOR. A fierce lady knee-gripped her
CELLO, firmly, scurrying notes. He,
REGAL, stood steadfast, yet outstripped her.

SNAKEs sneak up on you. You may be sitting on a
BENCH, and next thing, there’s a snake begging for a few
PENCE, hissing at you, flashing its fangs. No mercy!
CLASP it by the neck and tail, twirl it and toss it!