To Sense, To Treasure

PURGE muddled cumulations of middle years,
OPINE no more on politics, blather not on culture’s ills.
LILAC! Remember a scent from childhood, when experience was as
CHEAP as mere perception, and as priceless.

Cheap Date

PURGE thoughts of fancy restaurants,

OPINE on simpler dates like

LILAC meadows, golden sunsets,

CHEAP for your wallet, priceless to your girl.

My pain, her pain.

‘I’ll gently PROBE your MOLAR now. Hmm, I’ll have to
PURGE it of its gunk, wash, then make it DRIER.’
I say nothing, think of the CHEAP LILAC I bought for
my wife, OPINE the pain that she has BORNE.      

[Catch up time…]

What Did You Expect

MOLAR mass is grams of mass per mole-you thought I’d talk about teeth, didn’t you?
PROBE goes into the drogue in air to air refueling–what did you think I’d talk about?
DRIER wit might devise a funnier Quordle Poem–what can I say, this is what I’ve got.
BORNE–not an identity, but patiently suffered–like you have, to get this far.

Worn out

My DENIM trousers being at the
NADIR of their wearfulness, I’ll
ASSAY a nearby menswear shop and
SLANT my weary frame in its direction.  

Bleakish House

SLATE of cases is a mill of roiling interests.
BENCH forgets the ends most days, sometimes remembers.
QUASH some attempts, find for others and drag and drag.
FOGGY is the genesis of human justice, yet the mill grinds on.