Month: Aug 2026
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2508: Six Sentence Poem
They Left This morning four beeslay quietlyon the patio stones. not sleeping. the sunhad simply askedtoo much of them. I carried each oneto the shade, where lavenderstill remembersword for word,their names. I’d rather believethey’ve gone somewhere cooler,where foxglovesnever wilt, and cloverkeeps flowering. somewherewhere no beeneed choosebetween thirstand sunlight. Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story Poetry…
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2408: Journal of Thoughts
From a Sea-Salted Dock We wore black.Wore our pearlsand affection, spoke in whispered wordsthat left us tongue-tied. The sky watched, tasted our tears,and stirred our petrichor, calm-scentedour grey-fringed hair. We stood on a sea-salted dock,and released his ashesto the airon the coldest day February had ever seen. Fishing boats iced and rocking,frayed sails wind-stiff,and slapping…
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A Six: The Law of Finders
This “Framed Poem” is written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story, Poetry Slam on 27 August I had been content to sit and listen as one poet after another stepped into the small pool of light, when the woman at the microphone looked directly at me, smiled as though we had already shared some confidence, and…
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Six Sentence Café Announcement
Poetry Slam: 27 August, Thursday Six Sentence Café & Bistro Poetry Slam I occasionally look back and wonder how thoroughly a life ties itself to loved ones, children, occupations, old enthusiasms and memories so stubborn that even time, for all its practice, cannot quite rub out. My ink appears to know this better than I…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman’s Waffle Iron Predicts the Future The waffle iron arrivesthrift-shop-worn and hissing. Its hinges creak like gypsy’s bones,its non-stick grids etched with symbolsthat might be Nordic runes. The old woman pours batter, and the first prophecy bubbles up:“BEWARE THE 3RD TUESDAY OF NEXT WEEK.”She flips it, and squints:“Also, your cat is definitely plotting…
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2208: Journal of SenHai
The Overview Effect I.all our little warsEarth hangs blue in the darknessof cold indifference. grey moon, ancient cold,a blue world caught like amber,somewhere it is spring II.Grey stone, endless dustthen that blue, rising, unmaskeda gift we did not earn Monochrome holds stilla blue arc breaks the silencethe void almost blinks Senryu and Haiku poems ©Misky…
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2208: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem Tuesday:wind rushed the sparks. a snap,and combustionof sun-baked grass. it’s the scent of charreddried herbs.smoke bittingbright, and mineral dry. it’s to swallow upa dusty road —it’s a ghost coughlingering in the throat. sirenspluck at the airin two-tones. Friday:the fire has gonebefore I find it. only its mouthremains — black grass,the bitter greenof…
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2108: A Thursday Door
Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the way to share my love of doors — of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my photos and found a few to share. Bushboy (Brian Dodd) also shares photos of doors from his his journeys. ©Misky 2022-2026 Shared on X #amwriting @bushboywhotweet and @DAntion
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2107: Everywhere Poems
The Dry Cleaners that Aren’t Anymore windows open,houses sharing conversation. heat rising,tyres on pavement, a steady whineof a vacuum cleaner — somewhere. “Bought pizza at the dry cleaners. You know, the one busted for drugs years ago,” says my neighbour, “ten minutes they claimed, turned out to be an hour — good pizza though.” “Opening…
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Ten Things of Thankful
1 and 2: Thankful that a few squash grew large enough to make Swedish-style (although Peder will say they’re Danish-style) pickles. These squash should be the size of a man’s shoe, but the heat and drought have reduced their size by half. I am thankful for what the summer gave us, and I’ll kick myself…
It's Still Life 