28 December: A Cadralor: Bruised

AI image, copyright by Misky, girl in ballet tutu falling down. Image in style of Quentin Blake.
A Cadralor: Bruised 

She has beginner’s legs. 
Ballet lessons. At the bar, 
each move and stretch is 
a foreign language. 

She feels bruised and 
battered. Unbalance. 
Pink tights and a purple tutu. 
She’s fallen. Upended. 

A boy is outside. Football. 
He practises scoring goals. 
Again and again. He runs, 
and kicks wildly at the air. 

He sits on grass. 
His mother’s voice comes 
out of the house in waves 
of bruised language. 

There’s old light in the sky.
Old games. Old languages.
Children grow up, and leave. 
Rivers don’t belong to you.

AI Digital Art: created using Midjourney’s bot (v4b) Image and poem ©Misky 2022 Shared on Twitter #amwriting

7 responses to “28 December: A Cadralor: Bruised”

  1. I especially love the last stanza. That last line is superb!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ah, Misky! This is one of the reasons I leave the really good poetry to the really good poets.
    I had to start by looking up the definition of the word ‘cadralor’! 🤷🏼‍♀️
    I shall stick to telling tales and writing stories.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Cadralors are fun to write, Abbas the firm gives you lots of leeway to play around. I do thoroughly enjoy your stories though.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Don’t know how I missed this one, first time around. Great stuff, M. Thanks. And thosr=e last 2 lines….WHAMMOGOOD!!!


    1. My posts are a bit erratic right now because I’m on a different continent, playing with grandchildren. Writing is taking a back seat.


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