Seasoned

The bittersweet tang of sticky marmalade

Swayed lightly on her toasted tongue

She glared at the tall wardrobe in the corner

Nothing was right in this gingerbread house-

It was all an ugly emotionless sham!

Bang!

Orange jelly wiggled on her shiny steel spoon

As she killed an afternoon fly quite mercilessly:

An innocent victim of her chronic bad mood.

She mourned its death quite piteously.

Struggling to banish this petulant attitude,

She chanted “liberosis” waving her arms about

What a strange spell for a witch so seasoned

And how curious that she not use her magic wand.

Dear Readers,

This has been a response to Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #152 after a very long time !

Our instructions were as follows:

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

1. Lightly

2. House

3. Petulant (adj.)) moved to or showing sudden, impatient irritation, especially oversome trifling annoyance)

4. Liberosis ((n.) the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.)

5. Tall

6. Banish

7. Officer

8. Afternoon

9. Kill

10. Marmalade

11. Wardrobe

12. Attitude

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

 

 

gingerbreadhouse

 

 

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The sheer luck of it all

She sips her piping hot soup in gentle slurps

Lips touching the spoon precariously

The salty tang transports her to another time

A sombre smile dances on her mouth, so slight

Summer days lazy, lying in gold barley fields

Legs entwined, eyes locked, reading palms

Watching birds fly in crimson skies in single file

A strange order in the marvellous disorder of their lives

Winter embasan in that secret little rivulet

Fingers shrivelled, hair knotty and wet

Weightless and numb in the freezing cold

Heart volitant in wholesome unassuming love

Phlegm catches in her throat

Her wrinkled hands shield her cough

Eighty eight and counting, the body’s taking it hard

Mind still as sharp as a needle, but soon to waste away

In this dull, sterile place: a “home for the aged”

May well be a sanatorium for the sick and deranged.

Where were we, oh yes, this ghastly soup

Just like the one she made her blue-eyed boy too!

He who chased her through barley fields and secret rivulets

Now follows in his wheelchair, as she takes small baby steps

She chuckles at the memory, heeding reality’s call:

Oh the great irony and sheer luck of it all!

Dear Readers,

This has been a response to Wordle #76 by Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie.  The rules were as follows:

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

1. Sterile

2. Dull

3. Rivulet

4. Barley

5. Volitant (engaged in or having the power of flight. Active; moving.)

6. Phlegm

7. Embasan (to wear clothes while taking a bath)

8. Precarious

9. Sanatorium (a hospital for the treatment of chronic diseases, as tuberculosis or various nervous or mental disorders.)

10. File

11. Sombre (it is just the British spelling of somber use whichever form you prefer)

12. Soup

What happened?

I’m packing up this house tonight

The agent’s been paid her commission

I don’t want to lose any more time

This dump is no longer mine- hurrah!
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A few hangers, an old photo frame

Boxed up in miles and acres of tape

The irony is that I’m free from stricture

I tap my feet happily- ho hum!
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Her closet; I left that junk for the last

She always needed all those damn shoes

I delve into its insides to clear it all out

Snap my fingers impatiently- clickity click!
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Magniloquent, her voice buzzes in my ears

Everyone calls me the quiet one

Truth is, I never got the chance

The clock hurries me now – tick tock!
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Everything neatly organised

Dresses, skirts, pants and suits

Her smell churns my stomach

Bitter coffee makes me calmer- slurp burp!
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Murky dregs remind me- I marinate on the thought

Thick, grainy incoherent mess.. where before?

Oh yes, that’s right.. I twiddle my thumbs

Crack my knuckles one by one- pop pop!
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I shift my boxes to the waiting truck

Driver’s seat, grab the steering wheel

Turn my head to wave goodbye

For a moment, I ponder, biting my lip

I put up a pretense of having two minds

But my brain’s a lurid reservoir

What goes in there, rarely comes out.

Oh well, you win some, you win some..

Off I go for a new adventure!

Goodbye garden, goodbye shovel-ta ta!
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Dear Readers,

Here’s another response to a wonderful word prompt by Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.

The words were:

1. Delve

2. Tonight

3. Murky

4. Reservoir

5. Marinate

6. Commission

7. Stricture (an adverse criticism, an abnormal contraction of any passage or duct of thebody, a restriction)

8. Dregs

9. Magniloquent (speaking or expressed in a lofty or grandiose style;pompous;bombastic; boastful.)

10. Frame

11. Tape

12. Lurid (gruesome, revolting)

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

Hope you all enjoyed it as I did writing it!

Runaway

Perching with a cocktail in my hand,

Mizzle tickling my flushed face like a lover;

I can’t handle this sensation much longer

Tilting my head back to breathe,

Suck in this beautiful paramnesia

The soliloquy of my drinking session.

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As if on cue, my fingers betray my grasp,

I pay for my lapse in sanity and grace,

The Bloody Mary now splotches of paint,

My perfect white dress, a fine spectacle.
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The rain, now a steady water column,

I can’t escape this angry storm now.

So, I stand still and let it sweep me over,

Watch the droplets reflect off heavy pebbles,

Atomize into a million moments I could’ve held

But I’m only flesh, bone and cartilage- just that much.
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The mud sinks my high heels deeper than my guts

I’m happily rooted now, awaiting the denouement

This crazy fairytale nightmare I painfully wrote:

A typical run-away bride with nothing more to show

Except herself, willfully drowning, in more than just her glass.
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Dear readers,

This is an exciting new challenge for me! I have written this poem as a response to Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie’s wordle #64.  I came across it in another blog I follow, by a brilliant poet consciouscacophony.

The rules were to use the following words:

1. Cartilage

2. Paint

3. Session

4. Atomize (to reduce to fine particles or spray)

5. Denouement (the final resolution of the intricacies of a plot, as of a drama or novel)

6. Handle

7. Cue

8. Lapse

9. Cocktail

10. Paramnesia (a distortion of memory in which fact and fantasy are confused)

11. Mizzle (misty rain)

12. Column

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

Hope you all enjoyed it and please visit the wonderful blogs that I have linked in this post.

P.S:  I have used all the 12 words in the prompt, if you guys look closely 🙂