A superior being has chiselled away at me
leaving a hollow space with no words,
no rhythm, no poetry,
nothing but puzzles.
My feckless muse is dumb
having lost lucidity
to a perplexing foreign tongue
in a struggle to make sense
of this luminous sunrise
staining the sky with flame.

photo by No.1 son Robin Smith, taken from our previous house

Others will have made more sense of this bunch of disconnected words at the Sunday Whirl

About https://vivinfrance.wordpress.com

All poetry, prose and pictures posted here, except where otherwise stated, is my own, and may only be used elsewhere with my expressed permission. Please don't be inhibited from correcting my bloopers and making suggestions: Most of what I post here is instant, ill-considered and off-the-cuff, in serious need of editing.
This entry was posted in free verse, pictures, really bad poem, wordles and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to WORRISOME WORDLE 213

  1. Since I have no poetic bones and know absolutely nothing about it, I will just say, good job. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. thehutts says:

    Watch this history of Bahamas music and it might bring back the sound and rythmn!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. restlessjo says:

    I think you made a good job of it 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. rosross says:

    Really beautiful and soulful.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. whimsygizmo says:

    Love the sound bumps here, Viv. This is fun to read aloud.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. annell4 says:

    You did a wonderful job with the words….I had a hard time with them…

    Liked by 1 person

  7. You did pretty well in your muses absence! Love your poem, especially the last two lines.
    Visit my Sunday Whirl post!

    Liked by 1 person

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