Month: Aug 2017
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Twiglet #39
Brittle Courage There’s a snake under the porch. It’s smooth and black as bitumen, and I mutter encouragement, “go away, go away” I say …… but it seems stupid-calm compared to my brittle courage, and my heart thumps in my ears. Twiglet #39
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dVerse’s Quadrille
This week’s Quadrille #39 is posted at https://miskmask.wordpress.com/2017/08/29/dverse-quadrille-39/
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Red Wolf Prompt #320
Summer Blue The garden gate is slamming — the wind’s picked up, and August is disappearing into drizzle; sets petunias on their weary way. A march toward mould and mess. Odd how a slick of rain melts purple blossoms into streaks that stick to your fingers and stain you like a typesetter in a print…
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Poems for Gnomes
It’s a Small Matter it felt real, as real as a shadow, or a wrinkle across the water. dreams feel like that. this one was bright as an orange lamp, and the sky was smooth and waiting. I dreamt that I couldn’t sleep. it was a small matter. for Poems for Gnomes
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Twiglet #37: See It
For Twiglet #37: The phrase is “See It“. I stray from the usual poetry or prose approach. This print encapsulates the phrase “See It” for me. I may try to throw a few phrases at this week’s Twiglet, if I’m inspired beyond this painting.
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dVerse Quadrille #38
She Forgot to Weep my mother’s years call her to rest. says, it’s a long-lost dream. cold winter mountains. just a bit of sleep. comes with heart’s desire, care-free as a new dress. those old joys: her long-lost bright gleam; youth. her dreams know nothing of old lips. Quadrille #38: Dreams
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The End for dVerse Poets
Underfoot Morning breaks. She watches over the roses with a squint of scorn, then pulls the clothesline tight. A grooved branch holds its weight. And she pegs his shirts by the side seams on the line. Upside down – a distress signal. Socks paired, then pegged. Jeans, wrinkles flicked away by the breeze. Clothes billow,…
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Twiglet #35
A Change of Heart i am the smell of rain, wind napping in trees. i am lily-clouds chasing light and dark. cool as a shiver, i am a change of heart. for Twiglet #35 “Lily-Clouds”
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dVerse Quadrille #37
He Dreams of Gin When he dreams of gin, he takes this, not that road. This fork, not that one. Claims that despair’s his wisdom — he’s no damned fool. Blasphemy is vanity’s prayer, he says. This man fears his dying sounds. He sleeps with rats. He dreams of gin. dVerse’s Quadrille #37:…
It's Still Life 