Month: Dec 2016
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Miz Quickly’s Limbo Week
Why My Favourite Sound is a Lawnmower As I recall it was the summer that dog bit me on the thigh — a black dog named Ought Not. The doc stitched me up with beige twisty string, like the thread that Mum used for sewing on my coat buttons. And all during that summer I…
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Sunday Whirl #279
We Dance as Candles Burn This is a great excuse to wrap myself in a drift of chimes. Bells that slip the air with tunes that melt winter’s chill. And we dance around a towering tree, candles burn, and bring to mind holy signs up there in stars. So I wish you all a happy Christmas, and a chin-chin…
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Twiglet #3: Across the Room
Crumbling Midwinter Light So here I am, somewhere under the sun, although I’ve not seen even the briefest bit of it today. Just mist and ice-gripped grass, and a world made for crisis, and crumbling midwinter light. At least the spread of dust under foot is less noticeable. So I do the “noticeable” chores, and…
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Twiglet #3
Originally posted on The Twiglets: ? A twiglet is a short phrase. Or a word. Maybe two. Its aim is to “prompt” a flow. A thought. A memory. If something comes to mind, write. A polished piece isn’t the goal; creativity is. Leave a link, if you’d like your work read, but note that comments…
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Time for dVerse
The Time of Asking It’s that time of the year when everyone is heading home. But we’re staying home. Not going anywhere. Joan up the street, she and her husband are going to Mexico for Christmas. She pushed an early greeting card through our letter slot with a hand-written note. Nice touch that read: “Hope…
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dVerse Haibun #27 and Twiglet #2
Two version of the same piece. The first is written as a haibun for dVerse Poets using the word “night”. The second version is the original that uses linebreaks, created as a free-write exercise for prompt #2 at The Twiglets. I. Run Away I’ve drawn over my childhood where there’s no children’s hour, no storybook…
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for Sunday Whirl #277
And Not Only That, The Girl Had No Rhythm Third row up, stood at the end, she draws the tune under the momentum of breath. rum pah tumtum High notes are thin skin, beyond her reach to hit, so she answers the lyrics with those three words — rum pah tumtum She’s rehearsed this far…
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Free-Write Prompts at The Twiglets
A twiglet is a short phrase. Or a word. Maybe two. Its aim is to “prompt” a flow. A thought. A memory. If something comes to mind, write. A polished piece isn’t the goal; creativity is. Leave a link, if you’d like your work read, but note that comments should not be expected. Twiglets are […]…
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dVerse: The Music of Words
I. Staccato Heat Siesta, and the streets are free, noiseless, bright and hot. Flamenco hot. The rain in Spain, she says, the rain in Spain, but there’s not a drop of it. Sitting there, still, be still, white hot skies, and she’s in the midst of magnesium light. On the edge. Combust. Ignite But there’s…
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Twiglets #1: He Knows Boats
He Knows Boats He knows boats. Old boats. New. Salt-brined and wind-whistled and tied to a pier. He knows their songs. Their sound by ear. Steel clips slapping hard, hitting on aluminium masts. Just by the tone of it, he knows who made it, knows its length and its name. And he knows how to…
It's Still Life 