On The run

The Wordle

                   James Robertson

THE SUNDAY WHIRL

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com

Asks us to use the twelve words in the wordle

ON THE RUN

I knew they would get me in the end,

However hard I ran.

I knew it would end in capture,

However smart my plan.

Yes, I led the rebellion,

And exile was my fate.

Now 'they' have discovered my escape-route;

I've left things much too late.

Now I crouch in these ruins.......

Someone will lift the latch;

I'll be a 'feather in his cap',

What a prestigious catch!

He'll recognise me by the scar

Running across my cheek.

A metallic taste is in my mouth.

I'm vulnerable and weak.

The cause I upheld was dubious;

I'm petulant about it now.

My sacrifice means nothing;

Why bother, anyhow?

I'll dart out into the open

As soon as he rams the door;

I'll race like one demented

Out onto the open moor.

As I race toward the billows

Of the wild and open sky

I'll hear the staccato bullet-fire

And then I know I'll die.

Everything finally fuses

As I face this final call;

And all that's ringing in my mind 

Is 'What was the point of it all?'

*

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MUNICIPAL MAGIC

All praise to the Municipal Gardener

Who pretties-up the town,

Who makes a splash of colour

In earth so rich and brown.

Who takes a plot on the corner

Outside The Junction Fair,

And digs and hoes

And then plants rows

Of flowers for me to share.

*

All praise to the Municipal gardener,

Whose back must sometimes ache;

Who gets blisters on his fingers

From spade and trowel and rake.

This verse is just to thank him;

I appreciate his role!

The vibrant hues,

The reds and blues

Splash colour on my soul.

*