Wheedles day 1: 25 March, 2022
We check Sunak’s maths. Some questions arise.
Is he buying us off? Or filling his chest?
On a riverbank the heron displays poise.
On a fence post he’s a neckless legless chest.
When Ukraine was invaded without just cause,
Volodymyr Zelensky unleashed his war chest.
Like Lewis Hamilton, if you MUST crash
do your level best … to protect your chest.
Three rounds going spare?
Today’s just a lucky guess
what’s in the word chest!
He drills at my crown
Fearsome tool on a cable
Spitting on my chest
Catch the faintest trace,
after drought, of drenched earth scent:
rainstorm in my chest.
The outlook is bleak
In tune with the current trend
Get it off your chest.
He took the candy,
an attempt to gain some clout,
sits heavy on chest.
Freckles yeast the grape.
Fur the purple, take the shine —
Hide wine in my chest.
conjures clear images; dials
tick in the hope chest
Not the sort to boast
she worked, loved, swore, earned a crust
but scorned the hope chest.
Know this from the start:
There’ll be pleasure in the quest
if there’s treasure in the chest
Please cast aside your foolish pride;
I’m incomplete when you’re not sweet,
my quest unblessed. Come, be my guest,
and rest undressed upon my chest.
Duncan Gillies MacLaurin
The kilowatt hour is a measure of power:
the American Dream hailed the age of steam
and opened up the West to an unwanted guest
with a Winchester rifle slung across his chest.
To this milieu, we say adieu,
neither sleepy nor weepy,
no regrets, worries or frets,
we rest, with empty chests.
Deepak Chopra knows no opera,
To win you, he means, in his teens.
His heart he’d fell and therein stell
You, the best, in his chest.
My childhood dream was to be Dolly. At eighteen I went full steam
ahead, boob job, low-cut dress, booked Toni & Guy to bleach every tress.
I was blonde, busty, a bombshell, but failed the lookalike test. My quest
was hopeless. Now when I hear her Best Of, my heart keens in my chest
These lines are in lieu of an adieu;
time I wasn’t here. Time to steer
on different seas. Please wear these
words, my best, as a jewel on your chest.
Each daily bout, it carries clout.
Each fresh start grows your progress chart.
No clock to beat, no time to cheat.
Not Wordling your best? Keep it close to your chest.
Ah, I’ll write my own obit, I think, and split
the task. First, to list my vices, then to wrest
some virtues from the mix. A test! Now the quest
becomes, at best, a way to beat my own chest.
Summer on the Algarve. He was suave.
His sandals and beach clothes were those of a poser
par excellence. Christ what a heist —
her necklace finessed from her heaving chest.
She has a daughter she just can't alter
who's in love with a mouthy bloke from Stoke —
bloody pest. The mother stops him, makes it her quest
to contest, muscled arms folded across her chest.
Elisabeth Sennitt Clough
Guarded, keen yet to grind
gamey grist. In teams we
gauge who stole, who gave
quiescent love. Great my upset.
Gravely gapes our bridal chest.
Debbie J. Jones
Despite years of tough tears
and hills climbed, so steep,
you, baby, make me blest.
Gorgeous guy, my heart’s guest –
beats quicken on your chest.
I felt the first flush
quicken, the fast, fierce phase
and — charmed by the chase —
I chose hearts, not chess,
cards held to my chest.
Dream of lost homes
under toads. Find your shell.
Wonder whose heart was quick in these,