Month: Mar 2017
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dVerse Takes a Ride
Double Dare Dare you. Double dare you. Boo! as you do in 3rd grade, the school’s haunted house, and my knees are crawling through prickly air, down around a web-blown maze. I’m blind as a mole in this unmerciful clench. Air blows ghostly sheets and pumpkins growl — I hold myself in this airless sheer.…
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Twiglet #15 “Rushing Water”
Mostly Messages I roll on to my side, looking at the blue dancing numerals on the clock radio, and curse the wretchedness of 4 o’clock. I’m wide awake. There must be a reason why … The bedroom is filled with soft snoring and sounds of rain hurrying into the downspouts. Mum always said that if…
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dVerse Quadrille #28
A Nod to March My daffodils’ angelic glances tremble with suspense. Statuesque stems shivering at the thought, snow forgotten so soon, so absolutely in sun’s gloss of satin and crocus pearls. Spring’s vexed by winter’s squeeze while ladybugs sit cross-legged, prop their chins against their elbows and wait. poetic form: Quadrille. (44 words…
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Building for dVerse
In the Blue I built a home under a sweep of sky, on a dome, on a small knoll of land, on a meadow of laughter’s echo, there I built a home in a realm of blue. for dVerse “DIY Building“
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Common Muck for Miz Quickly
In Pursuit of Common Muck They’re off to buy dirt. You know the stuff that nature makes for free. The garden centre, he says, it’s on sale. You see, she gave him an electric scarifier for his birthday, mostly because she saw him looking at one a few months ago, and the one that he…
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Twiglet #14 “Shedding Dust”
A Season for Feet I have dusty memories of summer heat, my feet swollen and bleating. But my winter feet are porcelain streams — cold and slow — a ponderous white in sturdy shoes. So I wait for summer days with elderberry clouds, and country lanes shedding dust on my wandering feet. written…
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dVerse Haibun #32
It’s spring. The leaves are green lisping tongues, and the faint sun stays low as a lost soul. It sings rather than shines. But that’s March, that in-between month, when winter lingers and spring seems too reluctant. I long for air, and walk amongst finger branches and spreading green that reveal truths hidden from my…
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for Sunday Whirl #289
This piece is completely depressing. It’s fiction, based entirely on a dozen random words. A Temple to Misère Ten years gone, and I’ve filled a moat around my heart. I still reach for you, expect your touch, but all I sense is a shapeless absence. An ache.I miss you. I soak in emotion, and…
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Booking It with Miz Quickly
Shoot The Kids I was six, and I knew a bit about life, like when I smiled, everyone smiled — life was easier when everyone was happier. And when I was ten, I got a bike. It made me smile, and I started smiling for myself. I was happy. That bike was my pink Cadillac,…
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dVerse’s Memento
As It Once Was It hangs, gilt frame, and a sepia sketch. 1945. Vesterport by Soren Frank. The old tollgate as it used to be with the mayor’s house on the right. Regency windows, leaded and multi-paned. Two gas lights by the door, electric shines there now. Square cobbles, a street, a walk to the…
It's Still Life 