Month: Aug 2021
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Twiglet #242
Originally posted on The Twiglets: A twiglet’s aim is to “prompt” a thought. 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 comments should not be expected.
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31 August dVerse: Back to School
Elementary I’ve become vaguely dubious about the roller blinds in our classroom. My teacher pulls the blinds down every Wednesday at noon, just before the air raid siren blares, and I don’t see how curling into a ball under my lift-top desk with my back to the window helps me survive a nuclear bomb. And our…
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30 August: 20 Pieces of a Poem
Piece #5: The One with a Person’s Name His name? Don’t think you’d find anyone who remembers that. People just called him Ida’s Youngest. His face, yes, everyone knew his face. Ida’s Youngest. God spit that boy out on a Tuesday, mistaking him for an olive pit. That’s what the priest told Ida, and that…
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Another One Falls
Another One Falls Another one falls to soaped windows Graffiti’d boards Boys and girls schools are closed Beer cans tossed Hope, no hope, there’s shooters on the road Tricks on skateboards Tricks with pimps We’re breathing air that makes us sick for Fandango’s One Word Challenge “Falling”. I went with the word “Falls”
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A dVerse Soliloquy Stream of Consciousness
My-My-My My mum lived in a little blue houseat the top of a hill where lodgepole pinesleaned in the wind like a widow’s hump,and there was a creek, raged full when itrained, but the soil sucked it dry by July, (I’m being generous when I say “creek” –it was more like a drainage ditch), and…
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27 August: A Small Ache
A Small Ache Summer has lost a friend.Slipped and tipped over like dominoes,or the soft sorrow of roses, forfend.Summer has lost a friend.Lost its bird song and country lane’s end,and its sweetness of hedgerows.Slipped and tipped over like dominoes,summer has lost a friend. . Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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A White, White Fog
A White, White Fog Did you see that woman withhair like a white, white fogstanding with her back to uswith one hand on her hip,looking at a child face downon the pavement? And you say, What woman. And if I were walking, I would’vestopped to make sure that childwas okay, and possibly…
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25 August: One Liner Wednesday
Rain filled the old steel bucket, and I emptied it onto the parsley, watched it spread around the chives, the basil, and the thyme, and I recalled that fisherman on the coast casting his net over the sea. Written for Linda Hill’s One Liner Wednesday. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter Prose and image ©Misky…
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Planted
Planted Time took my oldest friend’s life. Her son took reams of paper,scribbled with phrases andher partially complete poems,and put them in a metal box.Locked it, and then buried itin a corner of the garden. Rain fell down on it, but it never blossomed, …
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In Clove and Nutmeg
In Clove and Nutmeg Autumn’s feel reminds meof a poverty of time In clove and nutmeg tones It’s brittle. In need of sleep Geese flee south overheadA squirrel, branch to branch Tiredness loses importancewhen autumn wants to be seen Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
It's Still Life 