Month: Mar 2022
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16.03.22: Heaven’s Candle
As Bright as Heaven’s Candle My dad alwaysleft the porch light on for me,though Mum saidit was so I didn’tstand by the front door,kissing my boyfriendand giving neighbourssomething to talk about. But I knew better.Dad didn’t careabout the neighbours;he only cared thatI came home safe,and I reckon Godkeeps a candle burning for meat heaven’s door,…
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15.03.22: A Picnic in the Rain on Brighton Beach
A Picnic in the Rain on Brighton Beach A weeping sunspilled down on me,no thirst have I for drink. Sodden wishesof a tented sky, blues set me on a beach. A sandwich trimmedin pretty squares,sip a cup of tea, You and me,just watched the seadrink up the spilling rain. Image from WikiArt: Picnic by the…
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14.03.22: Always Opt for Peaches
I’d Always Opt for Peaches When I woke, and the stars were lost,I thought I’d lost you, too. That dream,it was all about death. Or so it seemed, although I don’t think anyone died.It was a glimpse, like dressing for dinner,when dinner wasn’t about food, but long-tailed jackets. Clothing withoutdirection, as if true north was…
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New Post at Washing Dragons
A new chapter is available to read on That’s No Way to Wash a Dragon. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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Found Poetry from Bleak House
She Is Morning She is the morning,And the birds mistake her for it,But this worldIs an indifferent parentWithout a helping heart. Found poetry, remixed from Harold Skimpole’s conversation in Bleak House by C Dickens 1853 GoDogGo Cafe Book Title Challenge #10 Girl Decoded. image: WikiArt Little Girls in the Garden by Berthe Morisot, Date: 1885. Public Domain. ©Misky 2022…
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13.03.22 Big City Streets
To Big City Streets To all thoseflags that hang limp as sullen moods,like gargoyles glaring on crowds below,and to all those windows polished clean, gleaming spring, puts the sun to shame,and to all those pedestrians — the girlsin tight shirts and shorts — the boysin slung-low jeans and long broad grins, and fathers with belted…
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12.03.22 #SOCS Trip
My first impression: the hand of catastrophe slapped us, and we are its remnants. It’s 11am. Where are the people? Bond Street is nearly empty. A man is laughing with his girl friend, must be a girl friend, their limbs are entangled like ivy. He’s strapped into a backpack with words LONDON in bold letters.…
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12.03.22: Too Early
The Crow That Arrived Too Early The morning is icy,the bird bath is frozen,and the house stares outon a silvery fog, and there’s a crow is on the lawn.An onyx star. A bull’s eye.A caw . . . a caw.Stab with your incantations, hollow out a moon’s feast.I heard a crow laughing,and the worldturned upside…
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11.03.22 It All Started with that Guy at the Portrait Gallery
It All Started with that Guy at the Portrait Gallery You’re a most peculiar child,that’s what Dad would say as he pumpedfuel into the Ford Falcon’s gas tank,and I’d inhale clouds of fumes encirclingmy head straight and deep into my lungs.I thought it was a most hypnotic scent.Almost as good as Mum’s cinnamon rolls. Same…
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09.03.22 Haibun Wednesday
This Morning. I’ve left my coffee somewhere. Out in the garage I think. When I went to get some chicken thighs out of the freezer. The leeks in the fridge are a bit impoverished, so I’ll roast up the chicken thighs with leeks and peas. And white wine. For that I’ll need to raid Mister’s…
It's Still Life 