Wordle 94

he’s counting on you

make no fuss
again for the man
making those
sweet miserable wishes
that always go wrong

the genie
will grant them again
of course to
prove to him
the futility of goals
without any work

the genie
is banking on him
going bust
counting on
the figures going straight down
to miserable

yet again
the genie’s interest
is not in
the riches
but in making him truly
see what is enough

/ / /

This poem was written to Wordle 94 at The Sunday Whirl.

Wordle 93


we have scattered to the stars
the raw materials of our solar system depleted

we left it behind, its curved lines
now tattered by our greed, our hunger for more

our sun seems small now
through the mists of the Oort Cloud

far past the Kuiper belt
and the scattered disc

we have skirted none of them
sucked them dry as through a straw

our vast scoops collecting every particle
hungry again now beyond the edge of our system

the scale of our undertaking seems daunting
in this dim recycled light

as the evening chimes sound
and i prepare for sleep

i look once more out the window
at the darkness of the interstellar vastness

my face mirrored there
and our future

/ / /

This poem was written to the words in Wordle 93 at The Sunday Whirl.