There are many vicissitudes in the puzzling game of living…
Each week The Sunday Whirl invites writers to write a poem or short prose using some or all of the “Wordle’s” 12 words. This week it is:
The Hard Scrabble of Radiance
This word is a winner, she said, smiling,
It’s feckless, and she had that chiseled dumb look
on her face as if she had really solved the puzzle of life.
I said that the word feckless was actually feckless,
and she sipped her wine in response, hollowed was her brain.
I said that if she really wanted a superior word
she should first wash out that merlot stain on her blouse.
Nothing foreign should interfere,
and she should give the appearance of being absolutely lucid,
because the true winning word in the beginning
and in the end should be absolutely