Month: Sep 2026
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0409: Stick of Butter
Stick of Butter when I was ten, maybe nine, but certainly no younger because we were living in the house where we lived the longest, and my bedroom window emptied its view straight into the yew tree and the park beyond, so I must’ve been ten … or nine … anyway, I spent the night…
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0309: A Thursday Door
For more info on this church, please refer to St Nicholas Church. 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…
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0309: dVerse Veils
This is a haibun poem for dVerse Poets. We were asked to recall a wedding, but that’s a personal memory I shall keep for myself. So here’s something that deviates a bit from the prompt. Veils Dust swirled behind the car and I remember thinking, I want a long white lace veil when I get…
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Ten Things of Thankful
A slightly different sort of Ten Things of Thankful this week. Lots of nearly lost memories. I. Years ago, I stopped cycling after swerving to avoid a shoulder-to-shoulder line of schoolgirls taking up the pavement. My forced trajectory ended at a fence. Holding a fractured rib, I remember thinking, ‘What god of ridiculousness thought a…
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0209: Journal of Thoughts
If There Were No Love if there were no loveI would still let summer’s last secretfind my face. just for the love of it to watch the lift and fallof leaves giving themselvesto the breeze, and if I believethey are hope,then they are. I once knew a manwho said, “I will die in a countrywhere…
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August: Last Photo on the Card
This post is in response to Brian’s monthly challenge Last Photo on the Card. Brian (aka Bushboy) asks for the Last Photos on your phone/camera/SD card. Here is the last shot taken using my iPhone 16Pro Max. Shared on Twitter with @bushboywhotweet
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0109: Dead Men Don’t Drown
Dead Men Don’t Drown: Episode #4 (catch-up with all episodes here) No. 4, Dead Men Don’t Drown: The Antique Shop on Rope Walk I walk into town for bread, milk and a box of wooden matches for the coal fire; inheriting a cottage means inheriting an endless list of small errands. Halfway home, a fleck…
