Month: Mar 2018
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a dVerse Tanaga
(Untitled) These are stale days. Always grey and knotted. Nowadays, shadows shed colour; paler than air, blanker than paper. for dVerse: poetic form: Tanaga 7.7.7.7/aabb (untitled)
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a dVerse Twiglet
A March on Rain and Sleet a new start, they say, this spring, this golden daffodil, this sinking, stinking sodden hill, this muddy boot, this springy start of pastel art, and so I March on April’s promise, this bringer, this temptress. this spring. dVerse “Sunny Side-up” and Twiglet “start to sink”
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Quadrille #53
Goodnight Sweet Girl I’ll tell you how on the night my aunt died, she was tucked tight and laid straight below crispy sheets, sheets white as her tight thin skin, and how her night nurse sat beside her bed, held her hand, as if fragile as eggshells. for dVerse’s Quadrille #53
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Draft on Red
This is working draft. Very much a draft but with possibilities. The She in Red Red jeans, I begged, that’s all I really want for my 13th birthday, but Mum would have none of it; she’s a sit and think sort of person. Sitting. Thinking. And then she said, A young lady should be able…
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Wordle #344
Fill Me There’s a drum in my heart, but no tune. Fill me play me like music, give birth to mischievous shadows, silky as truth’s soul. Play me like broken notes, in flats, in sharps, like scales, and veils of falling rain. Fill the air and saturate my heart. Sunday Whirl words: saturate,…
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A Triolet for Gnomes
Bare Bone Cold The thought of being on that hill, in that wind as hard as marble … it’s such a thick and smitten chill, the thought of being on that hill. Fingers cold, nose so froze until my every word is ice and garble. The thought of being on that hill, in that wind…
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Twiglet #68
Untitled Who will follow their tragic songs, their footsteps on soft lawn. There in the shade, on the hill, where arrows flew and, bones lie still. There amongst our runic signs, there on Tower Hill. for Twiglets #68 “Following Footsteps”
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19.03.18 Poems for Gnomes
The Winnowed Approach of tulips. of daffodils. they compete with bare-knuckled weather. they prepare against the weight of snow, against stem-breaking frost, against long-tooth grey, and still spring promises an approach. comes, day upon day, and speaks to us in four season languages, wearing its winnowed face. written for Poems for Gnomes
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15.03.18 TLT
The Way It Was That’s her. Nearly two. Mashed peas on her chin, and hair bound in wet rags. Curls by morning. Those black and white days, safe between covers. Three Line Thursday (#TLT): “photo” three lines, max 10 words per line
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Twiglet #67
In the Rain You’re out on flattened water, fishing — rain slashing the car window in long trickles, tracing like wizard fingers, or seahorses. Rain does that. for Twiglet #67, and extracted from the American Sentence post earlier today
It's Still Life 