QUASI ok life is mine, but there’s the rub.
PLUSH life, enough comforts, enough pleasures to feel plush. Yet:
CHUTE of life is one way and steep. So which to emphasize?
SOAPY baths, long and plush, or a cold shower that wakes me up to present, to eternity?
Author: David Wright
Bernie at the Inaugural
PARKA against the cold, mask against the Covid,
SPINY old age, tougher than tough,
BUSHY hair tufts, sharp mind, scoldy tongue
CHAIR, Bernie, mittens. Who can forget?
Bernie Sanders at the Biden Inaugural
Faith in Spring to Come
CHEST of red the robin puffs, perched on twig in
SHRUB on day when snow is gone, yet air is hardly warmed by sun.
CREDO of chirps, profession of tweets, faith-song for spring to come.
BELOW the heavens, below heaven, creation sings for history to flow.
Short Term Gains
DEUCE of a situation. String pullers, mid-life or older, feed the
BEAST of populace, the roiling mass, to extract gain.
NOISY mob on one side, power and wealth come out the other.
YOUNG will eventually live in the ashes left over. But that will be their business.
The Flesh
FALSE north, false clock, false currency:
LUSTY pleasure mill,
EMPTY days, empty nights,
FLESH decaying, nothing lasting.
As I Imagine It
LIMITed suspense in this, my pedestrian life. Dramatic
IRONY either overlooked by me, or generally absent.
TERRA-trapped my life, my sensibilities, yet sometimes imagination gives a spark, as when this
ARBOR seemed to be Arden, and you Ganymede, and me pining for Rosalind, not yet knowing.
Warthog Ambitions
WARTY hogs trot satisfied under the blazing sun.
SEVER their ambitions from jellyfish, who want to rule. Yes, warthogs think us
KNAVEs; they need no Wifi, they never posit nationalisms to mask their pain. Yet, their conception of
PUBIC good, which, could they pronounce the letter ‘L’ would sound so much better, is sunny and hoggy, each day a gift: They do not need to rule us.
Note: This masterwork of a poem is twinned with my other masterwork poem for a day earlier, the 2023/04/20 words: https://dailyquordlepoem.com/2023/04/22/the-day-of-the-bloom/ . What a difference between Jellyfish and Warthogs and how they they approach other species.
The Day of the Bloom
JELLYfish: now perhaps two centuries left till they can make and hold
PRONGed spears (how have they heard of Poseidon?). Come the day:
GLOBE-domination, nothing less, is their cold plan. The Day of the
BLOOM they have named it in their gurgly speech: jellies multiplying, jellies seizing all.
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.
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.