For The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #222
https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
full, ground, hour, buddy, sell, element,
ability, theory, demon, gear, lane, trees
Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #30
http://sundayswhirligig.blogspot.com/
melon, whorehouse, oubliette, wearing, rattle, sleeping,
touching, vanilla, mania, bone, smite, spit wad
Poets United: Poetry Pantry #275
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
At End of The Day
No matter how vanilla flavored we would prefer
our lives to be, there comes that darkest hour
when the mind becomes an oubliette, a demon
wearing a rattle of past bones, no more than a wad
of spit ground into floor of a Texas whorehouse.
Where sleep is a manic theory sold only to highest
bidder, an untouchable element that staggers
ability to reason, and any sound is a concrete melon
crashing down to smite thinnest thread of hope
for release.
Yet, if we have done the work of making the soul
our buddy, now it will come with all of its finest gear
to transport us to a quiet country lane lined with dark
barked trees fully covered in crisp Autumn leaves that
whisper of drifting away on a scent of fragrant color.
Elizabeth Crawford 10/25/15
Image is a photo taken a few days ago, at a small horse farm not far from where I live. Look me up on Facebook and see what happened when I put it through the kaleidoscope apps.
Soul's Music 
Oh my goodness – this is brilliant “vanilla flavored” “oubliette” so many particulars adding up to one heck of a poem. Bravo!
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Nice response to the wordle…
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What a great poem for the prompt sites and fitting in two dozen difficult words.
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Incredible! Absolutely adore your choice of diction here 😀
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A sublime poem Elizabeth – i can’t help but draw comparisons…we can sprinkle on sugar and vanilla toppings but courage, awareness..progression..wisdom.. it’s the vital ingredient/skill which lifts your eyes and soul up and keeps you moving on..
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PS seamless use of the prompt words
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I really didn’t see anything forced at all with the words.. and for sure so many things we can do to make sure we can bring that country lane silence with us into the night instead of the burden of concrete that makes the night so much darker.
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I love the beautifully sustained long sentences that make up each verse, and the peaceful resolution.
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I love this section:
“an oubliette, a demon
wearing a rattle of past bones, no more than a wad
of spit ground into floor of a Texas whorehouse.
Where sleep is a manic theory”
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Oh that last stanza seems so very tranquil. Autumn definitely can bring about that kind of feeling. Loved your photo as well.
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Beautifully woven. There are bits each of I’m sure can relate too. Delightful.
Visit Keith’s Ramblings!
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Funny, we were on the same track for awhile, but you resolved it better! Loved reading your piece, ended in ‘peace.’
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Such fantastically powerful imagery in this poem – what a contrast of the mind in the darkest hour and then after, when the soul brings its arsenal of transporting tools. Very cool, my friend.
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i love the visuals, the concept of objects depicting life. great writing.
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Goodness. This is just fantastic:
“a demon
wearing a rattle of past bones”
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You continue to meet the challenge of “words” with creativity.
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I love how you brought us to that tranquil end!
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Spooky ‘a demon
wearing a rattle of past bones’ ..hopefully just for Halloween
party. Nice work.
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Beautiful writing, Elizabeth. What lovely photo, too.
Pamela ox
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Sooo. Chilling out in the country after one hell of a migraine is a good idea.
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A beautiful painted with your words. The photo is autumn in its prime.
Thanks for visiting.
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There is always a light at the end of the tunnel.
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imagination is the key to fun stuff.
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