BEGET wish of stolen doubloons on the Spanish Main,
arrrr-EGRET will be your lot. A pirate’s life has no proper end,
BLARE of battle, crash of cannon, loss of limb,
CLOSE run escape-five pieces of eight to show.

My Raven Friend

QUOTH Zarathustra, my raven friend:
DANCE will I, should you give me
ASCOT (apricot-he’s a raven–not know for elocution).
CIRCA 3 seconds in, this Quordle poem hit a wall.

Quordle dance

A SCOT said, I know there’s a dearth of words on Quordle, but
‘CIRCA’ three times in a month seems a bit extreme.
QUOTH the Quordle maker, Freddie Meyer, ‘Sorry, mate,’ there are only so many words I can
DANCE with.’

Speak of the Devil

BOOTH, the Salvationist, said, ‘How the
DEUCE do you think the devil is going to
PROVE you’re unsaved? Does he believe everyone will
ROAST alongside him in Hell?

Sonoran Sands

TROOP across Sonoran sands and every breath is
HOTLY scalding lungs. Flaming orb hovering above, below, beside.
UMBRA, black cave entrance, signals relief–a mile up the hill.
TURBO mode cannot get me there fast enough, with white flashing in my eyes.