Month: Sep 2019
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The Science Behind Weather
The Science Behind Weather (rewritten) Weather is my soundtrack. A movement of life. A stirring influence of where I live. What I eat. If I sleep. You are music to rain, the taste of a storm, that grinding beat of a July heatwave. Sweaty. Shifting. Utterly indiscreet. You are a hurricane dark as drama. You turn and trend…
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All That Effort for Nothing
All That Effort for Nothing I encountered a word this morning. Fauxcrastinating I have no idea what it means. It’s like one of those scratch-my-head double negatives, always leaves me thinking, Huh? And the same goes for adding up negative numbers. Even worse, subtracting them. Negatives, shouldn’t be allowed, and double negatives, they’re a virus.…
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for Twiglet #144
Two Thoughts on the Anniversary of My Mother’s Birthday Her broken whispers were so close to earth that I imagined bluebells. I gave her flowers as she rode into the stars. Couldn’t help smiling. Two American Sentences of 17-syllables each. dVerse OLN. For Twiglet #144 Rest easy Mum. ©️ Misky 2019
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The Sun Rises in the East
And Still the Sun Rises in the East Dawn is a splatter of light. Jackdaws chatter in the trees. A robin pulls at a worm. The worm tugs back. Dawn. She yawns and stretches, and that’s when a girl, her house, and her little dog too, fell down from the sky. The house swallowed her…
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A Dedication to Clever Fingers
A Dedication to Clever Fingers My mother had very clever fingers. Our family tree’s leafy with cleverness. They made things. Lots of useful things. They know stuff. Lots of useful stuff. And, my sister with her pink alabaster skin says our Grandma told her a secret — don’t soap your face; use mineral oil. I…
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Stuff on Stuff
Stuff on Stuff (it’s true: nothing rhymes with orange) Reached in my pocket, in need of a hanky, and found in the seamed rough a bit of carpet fluff, some sand and stuff and there amongst lint and wisps of dog hair and a core from a pear, was an orange lozenge that I have…
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#2: “Leaves on Water”
I’ve forgotten the sound of my father’s voice. Gone, with leaves on water. Poem form: Ginsberg’s American Sentence of 17-syllables. 4 Miss B. ©️ Misky 2019
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#8: Dali
From the Frying Pan I cracked an egg into a frying pan. A big ol’ eyeball stared back at me. I blinked.Yes, it was just a yolk. How very Dalicious. for b. Edited Dali image from WikiArt. ©️ Misky 2019
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About Those Falling Stars
When the First Star Fell … the clouds fled. That lone star, that fell. So free. A splash and then its ripple came, and the sea was quieted by the night. Shining starlight was its special gift. And no one knew — in the dark the sun exists. written for PB’s “create a…
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dVerse Inspired by Art
Our Seeds we are autumn we are root and stem here, from where we’ve come a branch a limb our seeds grown will leave as they branch and seed will root to stem and so we are and so we shall. for dVerse “Inspired by Art by Beverly Dyer“. Image “Autumn Collection” by…
It's Still Life 