Faith does not entitle anyone to impose cruelty, and injustice. Remember it is in our country’s history that through unjust ideas we earned rights and must be allowed to exercise them, even as we suffer a plague of insulting words or actions, even an arrest. With our unity comes strength, the escape to freedom.
Whirl, twirl, and dance about with your words. Swirl them together with a little dash of rhyme. Go out in nature and find us a whorl. Take a trip on the tilt-a-whirl, and surprise us. Make a wee whirligig of a phrase we’ve never seen before. Invite us to in for a swim in your whirlpool. Create a whirlwind, or write a poem of calm for this weary whirled. Or start Whirl War I with your words.
Ready to give it a whirl? Here’s how to let your whirl unfurl: Just pen us a poem of precisely 44 words, not counting the title, and using some form of the word whirl. Post it on your own blog, and link up here using the Mr. Linky below. Then follow the whirlpool flow of poems across the web to leave a comment or two for some poetic friends. The Quadrille prompt is up all week, and multiple posts are welcome, so y’all whirl on back now, y’hear?
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Wanting, begging for a whirl High school gym heard giddy girls While standing alone on the side No whirl for her, boys denied Suddenly she heard a tune Took her away into the room The melody grabbed control She was in a musical whorl.
Tonight I’m starting the third book in the Nick Mason series written by Steve Hamilton. I like Nick’s character and glad to see another thriller with him. The first book in the series intrigued me with the title: “The Second Life of Nick Mason”.
“What? You don’t like it? I made it to inspire, to be the future monument representing our happiness!” Paul revealed the statue that combined his rendition of a short walk through their history…to follow a story of their family life. Melanie looked aghast. She was stunned, realizing what a mistake leaving her husband all to himself with his secret hobby.
“What exactly have you created here, Paul? It’s all discombobulated – a visual lie! Secure the covering immediately!” Then to the servants, “cancel all the arrangements for the unveiling tomorrow! This is a disaster!” Paul sank down next to the sculpture, defeated.
Heritage, in today’s world, it can take on a myriad of meanings depending who is saying it. If our current president speaks this word it’s usually in a sentence explaining his new golden Oval Office, or it could be the billions of dollars involved in building a huge ballroom no one wants. He claims that the heritage of our country demands these “improvements”. Another use of this word comes from history and the indigenous tribes that first occupied our country. When I think of heritage I think of my grandparents and generations working and living before them.
He threw the rest of the paint supplies onto the pile. He looked forlornly at the landscape but threw all the red paint to cover it. He wanted no memories of the painting or the house that lived on the canvas. Memories started again to bubble up like a meal of undigested food, rancid and vile. If he could destroy the painting, maybe the horrific thoughts of that house would cease to cluster on the edge of the sane part of his mind. It was the other side of his brain that conjured the unbelievable images. The sights tortured him.
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