Month: Apr 2025
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25.04: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: 1) I’m thankful for the brilliant spring display from the tulips and daffodils this spring. The break in their colour is caused by a virus, which made them highly prized during the 17th, causing Dutch tulip mania. The virus is spread by aphids, and settles in the bulb. 2) The grapevines…
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25.04 The Old Woman With No Cat
Part III. AN ELEGY FOR THE BLUE AND WHITE VASE(a sonnet-that’s-not for Grandmother’s shattered treasure) I. THE FALL it fell—not as a failureof hands,but as the last noteof a songher grandmotherleft unfinishedin this world. the blue and white shardsbloomed on the floor—porcelain hydrangeasplantedin sudden soil. II. THE JOURNEY’S END it was time.the vase had grownheavy…
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24.04 The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and Unsolicited Commentary The cat sprawls across the kitchen table—one paw possessively pinningthe old woman’s latest poem. It is a tiny, furry editor-in-chiefwith ruthless tasteand questionable credentials. “Hmmm,” it muses,scratching a commainto the margin with one claw.“It’s Oxford commasin this house.” The old woman arches an eyebrow,then adds a stanzaabout the cat’s…
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24.04: PAD Day 23 – Book
A poem starting with a line from Poem for Passengers by M. Zapruder and ‘writely‘ molested by Shakespeare (unlikely, but possible) A 33 Word Poem Like strangers on a trainwho find themselves movingin same directions, looking out the windowwithout downing books,thus Fate, that strumpet, doth but feignto keep our marginsfree of stain.
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24 Apr: A Thursday Door
This doorway feels like an old, steadfast guardian—quietly dignified, a little battered, but enduring. It might be an elderly caretaker, standing at the threshold with a gentle, knowing patience, the weathered wood and number plate are like wrinkles and laugh lines, telling stories of years gone by. There is a sense of resilience and quiet…
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23.04: A Letter to Yureth
FIVE SONGS FOR YURETH – Not Fire, But Forging Dawn licks the edges of what we almost know—brushstrokes and inkblots,the way a halo fractures—into 27 syllables. No Book ever taught us that. We are not making myths.We are peeling back the skyto find where we left them. FATE? (a quadrille of 44 words) To spin…
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23.04 The Old Woman With No Cat
Part II. LAST RITES FOR THE SHATTERED VASE(a personification ceremony conducted in four movements) I. EULOGY BY THE WORM you heldnot just water,but the pausebefore the spill. now you are1,001 portalsto elsewhere—each edgea newmouth,each curvea stoppedclock. (it sprinkles the shards with compost) II. CROW’S FINAL BLESSING he places the laughing-water shardatop the pile: let this…
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22.04: dVerse Quadrille
Frequencies a shift—not silence,but the spacebetween breathand recognition. the air rearranges,atoms in soft agreement,alignment not forcedbut found. chaos:not disorder,but the echoof everythinghappeningall at once—a harmonytoo vastto sing,but feltunder the skin. to alteris to listenuntil the momentbecomes new. Written for dVerse Poets: Quadrille #222 “alter”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such…
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22.04: A Six – The Book of 27
2 of 27 Ashwine – a Colour once felt, not seen—the warmth you almost touched. 2 of 27: Ashwine Felreil steps through the broken arch of the chapel—not as a pilgrim, but as someone answering a question no one remembers asking—wooden shutters rattle as the wind forgets itself—and she sits in the front pew, maybe…
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Ashwine Liturgy – The Book of 27
2 of 27: Ashwine – a Colour once felt, not seen—the warmth you almost touched I. The Almost Ashwine is not the fire—but the embers you hesitated to hold,the glow that lingeredon your palms a second too longbefore you let the night take it. It smells like pages pressed closedfor centuries—rosewater,dust, and secrets that waitedwithout…
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