The Sunday Whirl: 09/12/21

My Vow to You

Kneeling down before you now
On carpets made of silk
I travel to a land I know
Where tears flow slow like milk

A line before me has been drawn
By wheels inside my head
Like flowers put before a throne
Where candles burn instead

Through the candlelight I see
A living, breathing man
And reaching out I do recall
A quickly as I can

That you are mine and I am yours
It’s not too late to see
That my heart is reaching out
Touching you tenderly

And so I ask you now my dear
If you will be my king
And with this vow I do present
A perfect wedding ring.

©2021 CBialczak Poetry

The Sunday Whirl

Click here to read about the challenge

Happy Again

I thought about the role I’d played

as an energy surged right by

like a gust of wind on a rainy day

trying to stay unequivocally dry

I thought I’d send a card to her

in the fashion of a formal note

a photo of me in the Sunday choir

with a mask and a scarf and a coat

The storm itself went rolling by

as my letter did fall to the floor

I put my hands upon the counter

And stared through the blinds on the door

When all of a sudden I saw the light

of someone just driving by

It was my love and to my surprise

We both laughed then started to cry

We hugged and talked and hugged some more

and couldn’t part hands at all

I told her that I loved her so, so much

and how happy I was for her call.

©2021 CBialczak Poetry

MLMM Wordle #252

It’s Monday when Yves sets us the weekly MLMM wordle challenge.

Our words are:
Pinch, Nose, Topple, Tocsin (a signal, especially of alarm, sounded on a bell or bells), Contest, Forward, Crestfallen, Fence, Edge, Pile, Whistle, Lick

I couldn’t stand the odor
I had to pinch my nose
My head felt like a bobble
I toppled when I rose
The tocsin was resounding
A contest to the ears
A record on fast forward
A fence to hold my fears
I stand and look crestfallen
like a diver on the edge
waiting for the water
to rise up to the ledge
I pile up my courage
and whistle away my fears
I lick my dry and salty lips
I’m wise beyond my years.

©2021 CBialczak Poetry

Wordle 511

Find it here

The Criminal Cruncher: A superhero story

Sparks were flying as the legendary superhero raced through the streets in his sports car turned criminal catcher. The Criminal Cruncher was a spontaneous hero who could often be seen rising in the sky with a ring encircling him like the planet Saturn. The heat’s high temperature, which was emitted from the Cruncher’s car was a far cry from the temperature of the sun but it could still melt a criminal, landing him incapacitated instead of incarcerated. The Criminal Cruncher knew his powers were like magic and were what would make the future possible for the civilians in the city, though dressed in his black garb he was more ominous than hopeful. Somehow the Cruncher knew he had to find a way to rekindle  the hope of the people or all of his work would be for nothing.

©2021 CBialczak Fiction

Wordle 508

by bwarren

The child rose from the grassy area under the tree where he had been admiring the card from his schoolmate. He had seen a form in the sky that surprised him as it looked like a dragon rising up into the sky. There were dark clouds that looked like fire coming from the ferocious beast. The poor child was scared by the sight and began breathing heavily as the effervescent being drifted closer to the tree. He closed his eyes as if his lids formed a safe border between him and the monster. When he opened them again the sky sparkled off tiny raindrops like the finery in his mother’s jewelry box. He finally felt safe.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2021/07/04/wordle-508/

©2021 CBialczak

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle 506

Find it here: https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2021/06/20/wordle-506/

The Message

She looked out the window as the rain poured from the sky. The past few weeks had been a terrible drought so the rain was very welcome. She believed in God, a god, and felt that the rain coming down on a night like today was a symbol of courage, some sort of sign that God had been listening to them. She thought of the history of her hometown and how the people who lived here still believed in faith. Not a week had gone by, nor had any resident ever let an occasion slide by, without giving thanks for all  they had. In the end, wasn’t it an onslaught of prayer and belief by the people who taught the younger generations the rights and wrongs of life here? 

The Sunday Whirl

To join in the fun go to: https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2021/01/23/wordle-492/

It’s a vicious mix of drink 
No justice til you’re done 
Say cheers to those who think 
You’ll never be the one. 

It settles in your gut 
even when you sway and weave 
You climb down off your shelf 
you brush dust off your sleeve. 

It’s a line of chain events 
which tell you who’s the boss 
stuck in a sticky web 
you’re surely meant for loss. 

So you send a friendly wave 
and call to those nearby 
In a month or two 
They won’t remember you didn’t try.

©2021 CBialczak Poetry

Wordle #222

Check out Mindlovemiserysmenagerie for the details: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2021/01/11/wordle-222/

word-art-6.png (778×641)

Haughty

Branches

Procellous- stormy, as the sea

Prolixity- a tendency to speak or write at great or tedious length

Touch

Stumble

Throat

Wild Strawberries

Heavy

Fray

Kimono

Seconds

Walking out of his cottage, Devon knew by the sway of the branches that stumbling out on a procellous day like today was taking a chance that could have heavy consequences. Devon’s leg had not healed properly, was still very sensitive to the touch, and if he fell he was risking damaging the work the doctors had put into reconstructing his thigh after the accident. Were he a woman, he would choose to wear a Kimono to both hide the bandages and provide the loose comfort his wounds yearned for, but for now he would have to focus only on the path in front of him and nothing else. Knowing his luck he would snag the silk on a twig first thing outside and fray the precious silk anyhow.

Devon wasn’t sure why he felt like heading to Marta’s house now. She was a conversationalist with prolixity and he often wanted to leave her company only seconds after she started speaking.

Upon reaching Marta’s door, Devon cleared his throat and knocked on the heavy, wooden door. He didn’t want to show how much he wanted to see her; but he was here and would stay for a while. When Marta opened the door the first thing Devon was hit with was a strong smell of wild strawberries along with warm air of her oven. He would have to try and coax her to let him try whatever it was that she was baking. She was a fantastic chef and never haughty. Sometimes she even acted as though she had never stepped foot in a kitchen before. Devon was hoping the perilous walk here would be worth it!

©2021 CBialczak Fiction

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle 483

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2020/11/22/wordle-483/

Nonsense

When I listen to the wind 
I hear sounds from my home 
sounds so soft and tender 
like big bubbles upon new foam.  

The gratitude I hear right now 
helps feed my hungry mind 
there is no simple frill or vibe  
no, nothing of that kind. 

And so I lay upon my bed 
of silver sheets and spread 
while all the sounds around me 
flow softly through my head.   

And when I find my road is done 
I will not mince a word 
I finally put my finger on it 
My family says I’m absurd.  

©2020 CBialczak Poetry

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle 482

Join in the funhttps://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2020/11/15/wordle-482/#comments

Being Creative

I took the fabric and made a slit 
I tried to trace the design that fit 

I printed the face right on the back 
I didn’t want the crease to make a crack 

I sewed on the lace to edge the sleeve 
I tried tiptoeing softly as I started to leave 

I still have my ideas of what to make 
An infinite number of ideas at stake 

I try to embrace those feelings I know 
And complete my project before I go.  

©2020 CBialczak Poetry