Madame Democracy

Belied by her soft
pink verdigris shoulders,her
strength rose out of sheer need
She grew to know men in a
world she cared so to guide
who came to kiss her hand
She skillfully drew men to her side
In her drab wardrobe's
pockets and sleeves, she hid secrets
for peace in her land

It took centuries
for her ideas to be heard;
eliciting help
from billions -
workers, inspired wordsmiths and
musicians, doctors
and scholars
collaborated
the almost perfect plan for
her dreams
All doors leading to her caused
more doors to open,
and the more people she took
into her home.
A selflessness was born

A miracle, some say, she
survived as long as she did;
the shame of it all
for selling to the highest
bidder, bigotry and fear
In the name of God,
they betrayed her, took away
her pride; they traded her crown
crumbling in the harbor for
a statue of gold
currency
She could have endured many
millenniums had
her ideas been saved, her
values abided by
Her energy saved for
hardest battles fought;
rough currents ebbed
and flowed about her,
she was a Princess of Tides
Far from raising the world up,
they failed to maintain
her legacy, her dreams
were half realized
Most had faith she would
live on and on, but she died

   dversepoets.com

We are writing about irony today....

Wordle No. 146...

Tiptoeing through bucolic pastures,  
wide field of wildflowers spread before me
Welcoming me collectively, 
 varied species amid tall grasses
All the scented colors of the rainbow 
fill my lungs, float upward, 
potentially reaching others' senses,
inviting all to partake 
I miss being a child again
To embrace in full measure 
to run and play,
no gates to throw me off balance, 
I kiss delicate petals, 
hold them softly to my cheek
Their  synergy flows outward,
creating preludes in the sky
with kites and eagles fly  - 
afar to an alternate universe,
 perhaps, or return to their former state                            
I  lie down on my back, 
eyes follow cirrus clouds,
opening to skies of blue
Wildflowers bend and sigh in the breeze;
 earth rotates around the sun, 
a dramatic rhapsody
I see no end to the halcyon beauty,
no edges to limit my dreams.

It's the Sunday Whirl.  And our beloved Seahawks are playing in the Superbowl in New York and we are all there in spirit.  Today's 12 words to be included in a poem are above and underlined as well. Coincidence that we fans are now known as the 12th Man.