CARATs count, yet less than the beholder’s gaze, the thief thinks as
TWANG! goes the crossbow, carrying cable to vitrine, much like the
FLAME of longing carries her heart to the diamond within.
‘THETA’, is what she calls what longing adds to the price. ‘Common sense’ is what the museum calls the silent alarm now going off.
A different pitch
BRIAR, poor lass, sang always with a voice
REEDY and sharp. The much-experienced organist,
BEING ready, as always, deftly, with one
SWEEP, transposed the accompaniment to a higher key.
Chicxulub
HEFTY asteroid, say Everest sized—
GAZER has a few seconds to ponder,
SWOON, or startle, while new epoch descends,
DRAMA’s act closing, making way for what is next.
The Work Above
RACER across the heaves never outstrips
CHOIR singing Sanctus, singing Gloria.
FLAME singers being consumed, spent when fuel is spent? No,
ADAPT to eternal frame: some work does not grind down the worker.
Moonstruck
HEFTY the Lefty’s stuck as a doting lovesick star-
GAZER, the result of Hefty’s ardent, constant
SWOONing over Nina, the current topnotch queen of the
DRAMA – (playing nightly at the Portisqueue Palladium).
Choral Conflagration
RACE Right over to yon fire extinguisher, since
CHOIR-thumbed hymnals sear with thickening smoke –
FLAMEs from Aaronic Blessing to Yellow Bittern spread!
ADAPT we now our songs of praise from singed and blistered pages.
[I’m a bit confused about what date it is in the US, so hopefully this isn’t spoiling anyone’s attempt at Quordling today…your time.]
The Great Cnidarian War
MAJOR Squish must craft the battle-plan,
CHOSE troops, train and deploy.
IDEAL of cnidarian peace is just that, an ideal. Now it’s each
JELLY tribe for itself. Only us jellies will look out for us jellies.
Wealth
MOUND of gold in a cave seems so precious, yet
STUCK is what you feel when you obsess about it.
HOARD of thieves is what others become.
ANGRY is what you are at the thought of their showing up.
Into the woods
MANOR left behind, soon the forest thickly looms,
TORCH the only sign of human mastery–though
FAUNA sounds—rustling, howling, hooting—unsettle certainties;
AVAIL yourself of tools, yet the world is big and dark.
Mish-mash
MAIZE, perhaps the stuff of which Aztecs built their labyrinths?
IDIOM, could it be the jargon of a fool?
BRAIN, the one who always seems to know Pinky’s agenda?
EXERT, I did not on this one.