It's Still Life

The Architecture of a Moment

Notes: Rooted in the oldest English tradition, Anglo-Saxon accentual verse follows the rhythm of breath and heartbeat rather than syllable or rhyme, where meaning is carried by cadence, image, and pause.

The Architecture of Next

Forget the gentle transition,
the slow cross-fade into the next scene.

This is the guillotine blade
stalled a hair’s breadth from the neck.

This is the silence after the siren dies,
the static hum of a dead channel,
the last card turned over on the table.

What comes next was never a promise.
It is a dare.

A whisper in the riot,
a glint in the truce-breaker’s eye.

It is the one word I haven’t spoken,
the one that will change everything.

So go on.
Ask me.

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The Architecture of Next (Accentual / Blade Verse)

No soft fade,
no gentle shift.
Next is steel
held at the throat.
Sirens cease—
silence hunts.
Dead-air hum,
cards face up.
Next is dare,
not destiny.
Riot-whisper,
truce-knife gleam.
One word waits—
unsheathed, sharp.
Say the question.
Let it cut.

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Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge, the prompt word is “next”. Poems/prose, some AI/images ©Misky 2006-2025.