Month: May 2025
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25.05: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman’s Unsupervised Sunday Morning Rebellion the sun, unchaperoned,paints the kitchen gold with anarchy,but still, the old woman sleeps past dawn—a heresy the cat would have punished,had it not been next doorknocking over someone else’s teacups. Afternoon Culinary Experiment the old woman throws something soupy in a pot: “Recipe for Whatever’s Left.”3 carrots with…
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23.05: Journal of Thoughts
Peripherals The centre dissolves—but the edges bloomwild and electric.A flicker of moth-wing,the sly grin of doorframesas the world reshufflesinto a deck of half-guesses. Vision now meanswatching the airdance with whatit won’t let you hold. There are memoriesstill tattooed on your lids.Let the periphery preachits gospel of shadows—each blur a velvet rebellionagainst the sun’s sharpness. And…
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23.05: A Thursday Door
for hurried hands of those who come and go,each scratch and dent is a memory: a hurriedkey here, a heavy knock there, all stories. Poem written for Three Line 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…
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22 May: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: 1. I’m thankful for days that feel like nothing is a miracle, and for days when everything is a miracle. I’m thankful for both. 2. The pigeons have left my sunflower seedlings alone. Last year, they pulled them all up and left them scattered about as if weeding. 3. A new…
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22.05: The Old Woman With No Cat
A Tenderness for Lost Things the old woman with no catsweeps the loft. she hums to broken spectacles,buttons without coats,spoons that remember mouthsnow gone. there’s a box of keyswith no ambition left—just quiet, rusted loyaltyto doors that no longer exist. she crochets warmtharound fractured teacups.she stitches silenceinto the hem of a baby’s sockfound behind the…
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21 May: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Suspiciously Quiet Cash Register the cash register hasn’t made a cha-ching in three days. not a beep. not a rattle. just—the silence of a thousand unpaid invoices. the old woman leans in, whispers:“you owe me.”the register exhales a single, sad receipt:error: charisma not found. the cat (now a forensic accountant)paws…
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20 May: And the Wind Said …
And After the Flail Mower, the Wind Said … the earth knows grief—how it pools in your palms like rainwater,heavy with the weight of severed rootsand the stunned silence of neststorn open too soon. You are allowed this sorrow.It means you rememberwhat the world tries to numb:that every blade of grass has a voice,that even…
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19.05.25 dVerse Quadrille
Between Pendulum Swings The house settles into its bones.Floorboards whisper hushto rusted nails that remember.Even the clock’s heartbeatdims to a moth’s last flutter. You, love, are the quietbetween pendulum swings—a pause so deep it forgetshow to return.How to wake. Written for dVerse Poets, Quadrille #244 including the word “quiet“. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and…
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19 May: A Six – The Book of 27
6 of 27: Solacewrought – a Colour of Kindness That Asks for Nothing 6 of 27: Solacewrought – Kindness That Asks for Nothing She stirs the lemonade with her straw like it might unlock something, and when she’s asked how she is—not her husband, not his cancer, but her—she stares at the glass like it…
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19 May: Solacewrought – a Liturgy
6 of 27: Solacewrought’s Liturgy Poem – a Colour of kindness that asks for nothing 6 of 27: Solacewrought – Kindness That Asks for Nothing(for her, for the ice cube, for the unasked question) I. The UnseenSolacewrought arrives not with fanfare, but with a poke—the ice cube bobbing in lemonade like a buoy in a…
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