There scattered, hope, in ashes, where once glory,

Razed, despair had pillaged where she lived,

Sacrificed at altar of confusion, this her story,

Naked, vulnerable, still wants to give.

There, beneath the crumble of destruction,

Oppressive weights that shackled, paralysed,

Dispersing now, on wind, to seek solution,

Regeneration from the monsoons of sad eyes.

There, before she flees, upon a light breeze,

Fragments for the taking, if you will,

In pockets, she is carried, saved for our ease,

In pieces, all too often, she lives still.




First Foot


punitive January swallows

aquamarine dreams

arrhythmic sadness

in its season while

calendar new hung

awaits tentative

cursive flourishes 

resisting the tepid

and the cold

affirming anew

tomorrows with

each box promising

hope’s pulchitrude

we begin as always

on first foot

Written for Mindlovemiserysmenagerie Wordle #92


2. Tepid

3. Calendar

4. Season

5. Sad

6. Arrhythmic (any disturbance in the rhythm of the heartbeat.)

7. Cursive

8. Tomorrow

9. Swallow

10. Aquamarine

11. Affirmation

12. Pulchritude (physical beauty; comeliness.)