Month: Oct 2024
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23 October: Bleed the Wind
Bleed the Wind (Haibun) 1.Winter swept in, and whipped through the roses. Its thorns ripped, tore and bled the wind, and there were no words to fall on paper that wouldn’t stick to the nub of my pen … but words I found in the whispers of the forest, in the colours of all things…
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22 October: Six Sentence Trifecta
When Ink Stops, the Pen Goes Dry October is pouring itself away. Rain sharp as swords that utter their own words, and then reel out of the gutters icy-loud … (leaf mould blocking the downspouts again). I buried another pigeon, the second in a week – it died, wrapped in a towel while I held…
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20 October: Tattoo
Tattoo It’s the reason for poetry.Rebirth. From a spark to burning bushand clutched breath –a flaming tail’s plume and wings spread. Reborn of ash.Feathers of fire.A beacon of obsidian ink.A crystal dark and bright. Phoenix, ignite the skin and flee this earth,to sky,to nebulae,from death to rebirth. Each line etched and filled in deep,each shade…
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19 Oct: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: Ten Things of Thankful – Week 42 1. Lunch and an afternoon at the Tate Modern with an old friend who I’ve not seen for years. She says I’ve not changed. I told her that looks are deceiving. 2. Finished a pen and watercolour based on a photograph I took from…
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18 Oct: A Thursday Door
Bushboy (Brian Dodd) shares photos of doors, but not just any doors. Spectacular doors from his journeys. Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the door on this. I love doors of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my holiday snaps and found a few to share. ©Misky 2023 Shared on X #amwriting @bushboywhotweet and @DAntion
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18 Oct: for dVerse’s Quadrille
La Petite Mort Watch her buckles and buttons shinelike fading light of a waning moon.She dances alone with the ancients,leaping over fallen trees, ferns and mosses.They watch her dance until the musicin her head vanishes.Until her song is gone.La petite mort. Note: 1) rewritten/condensed from Six Sentence Story. 2) La Petite Mort: I know the…
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17 Oct: The Bones of Winter
The Bones of Winter The bones of winter rattle ear to ear,and the ghost of my motheris knitting in her chair. Her spine is cold as October, and it descends on me, it is an emotional colour,the light of its juice which won’t go away until March.It glitters of frost in the air, and I…
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16 Oct: A Six – Nature of Things
At an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintSix Sentence Story: 1964: The Nature of Things: Part 32.3 1964 Stromstad: The Summer of Wolfsbane … and I’m afraid of the Jabberwocky because nobody can tell me what it is, and also Wolfsbane because it makes your brain think you’re flying, and Grandmother fingers…
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16 Oct: A Six – Part: 33
At an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintSix Sentence Story: Part 33 Danse de Caractère On the rim of morning as sunrise panelbeats stars into the sky … Brigid dances. Her silhouette fades in and out of the moonlight, slips between winter bare trees, a tour en l’air as she leaps over…
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15 Oct: dVerse Quadrille
No Light His was a heart that was closedand locked forever,and though his words were light,airy as any leaf,as if his thoughtswere swept clean by the sea,he carried it, a terrible weight,that of heavy grief, Written for dVerse Poets, Quadrille 210 “light”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the…
It's Still Life 