Month: Aug 2022
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3 Lines from the Garden (revised)
and the ferns, dry but still green, shiver like nervous fingers. Note: format changed. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Image is from Unsplash.
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26 August: Visual Verse Anthology
I am delighted and honoured to be published this month in Visual Verse’s August anthology. At the beginning of each month, this publication offers an image for writers to respond to … write and submit. They publish 100 pieces each month. Submission guidelines are on their site. Pop over to Visual Verse, and subscribe to…
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25 Aug: Café of Imaginary Dreams
The Little Middle One She’s the middle one,the one everyone cries over,the one nobody talks about. Buried like a pumpkin seed.Put a flat rock on top. No name.Just numbers.A date. An stillborn child does somethingto woman, it’s a blade of windthat cuts right through. Ain’t pretty. Written for an Image prompt: Café of Imaginary Dreams ©Misky 2022…
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24 Aug: dVerse Scents
The Scent … of Mum’s best table linen,the long runners, and napkinsstored in Grandma’s rosewood chest,pressed to a razor-edge whilst damp,fouled by the scent of naphthalene,yes, quite toxic, and lavender,not toxic but sickly, and very possiblythose non-drip Christmas candlesthat melted while Mum and Dad argued over whether the turkeywas thoroughly cooked or not.There was always…
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24 August: The Garden
Not everything in the garden is dead! All photos ©Misky 2022 Shared on Twitter
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24 August: An Elevenie Poem
Leavesare falling.Heat drained themdry. A crumble fromgreen exposing their brown skeletalend. Poem form: Elevenie. The image is mine. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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23 August: A Destination
A Destination Some days this town made him feelsmall. As if he’d lost himself. Other times, he felt both dead and alive.So he boarded a bus for anywhere else. And with each departure,he swore it would be his last. Written for Poetic Bloomings “Going Solo”. Image from WikiArt (Public Domain) by Jan Toorup 1858, The…
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23 August: dVerse Quadrille
That In-between Time It’s early morning,half-light dark,those minutes before dawn rises, when the sky hangs lowand shortsighted.Blue heron colour.Starless. Washedentirely empty by a shockof overnight rain –perfection, how rain cleans air. Clears drought from your laststill pervasive thought. for Twiglets “the sky leans” and dVerse Quadrille “morning”. Photo by Sebastian Molina fotografía on Unsplash. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on…
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22 August: They’d Only Eat Pasta …
They’d Only Eat Pasta … so she ground leftover hamwith some onion, mixed itwith mayo and mustard, and pushed a grape deepinto the bottom of the bowl, sort of like 2 o’clock fromwhere she was standing, and then told the childrenit was called Pasta Surprise, and when they all askedWhat’s the surprise, she justwinked, and…
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21 August: That Old Photo
Note: this is pure fiction based on an image at Café of Imaginary Dreams. That Old Photo: Ekphrastic Prose On the right is Jeff. Granny S named him after Jefferson. Not that Jefferson. Jefferson Street, where she worked as a waitress on Saturday afternoons, where Grandpa S always came in for his regular burger with…
It's Still Life 