Wordle 94

he’s counting on you

make no fuss
again for the man
making those
impotent
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.

Sunlight

Mid-morning,
and my son is ill.
The sun is
too bright for
me on this day; I want fog
to soften the light.

/ / /

This poem, a shadorma, started out as a haiku/senyru, but just wouldn’t work. I had to expand it out to a slightly longer form.

More Rejection

The letters
reject me, jumping
off the page.
How will I
ever be able to write
a poem if they…

/ / /

This poem was also written in response to the write a rejected poem prompt at Poetic Asides.

Process notes: I was reading my friend Paula’s poem, Rejection Letters, when I got the idea that the letters themselves were rejecting me, thus the poem. Like Paula’s, my poem is a shadorma, though hers is of a more serious subject matter.