Category: AI Art
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16 May: dVerse Lists
A List Poem in Two Minutes columbine,iris, yellow,blue, the birdbaththe same colour. the pots are too. thistles,foxgloves, a cuckoosinging a kettle’s song. hammer,nails, a ladder long, scaffold rails, and the dayrolls on. Written for Björn’s dVerse Poets prompt to create a list poem. Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is authentically my own original…
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Ten Things of Thankful
There are workmen on scaffolding next door, fitting replacement windows. They’ve been at it all week. One morning, I asked to borrow their van so I could go to the shops — it was blocking my driveway. They’ve parked elsewhere since. I am thankful. 1. Thankful for workmen who appreciate passive-aggressive humour, and decide it’s…
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15 May: Journal of Thoughts
The Weather of Me hail on the roof,wind worrying the trees, leaves torn loosewithout apology, and I rememberhow I walked. never the easy path. always the onethat cut,that asked,that took its duein small relentless ways. I would still choose it now, quickly, and wear its lessonslike a dare. it made a weather of me that…
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14 May: Journal of Thoughts
Day 2: The Neighbour’s Window Installation branches,leaves rollinglike waves in the wind. quarter past 8. Carol’s already beenwith her trayof steaming mugs. the workmen’s vanblocks my driveway. raindrops. “told you so,”says the young guywho’s not the youngest. “rain and ladders,bad mix, mate.” I close the front door behind me. “can I borrow your van, boys?”eh…
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13 May: Journal of Thoughts
The Neighbour’s Window Installation (or how to snoop and call it poetry) scaffolding bolted. Carol brings outa tray of steaming mugs,labels swinging on thread,teabags left in. builder’s tea. half past eight. “over there,”a man points. he’s dressedfor chilly mornings,his breath clouding the air. a young guy carrieswindow framestwo panes each — says nothing,paces slowlyback to…
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12 May: Six Sentence Story
Part 10: Brigid’s Diary, Valence’s Saturday Market Spring 1836: Sun broke over Valence like pardon too easily granted; the Rhône ran molten and bright, the air rinsed so clean of coal smoke that it felt like a trick. Beyond it, the cathedral held its spine against the sky while the market spilled colour into the…
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1105: The Liturgy
Episode 10: Liturgy for the Saturday Market Valence, 1836: Where hunger measures every stranger I. The Root The people of Valenceare rooted in hunger — missed meals,children whose ribslearn to count themselvesbefore they learn their letters. This hunger speaks.And calculates. Every loafa fraction.Every coina remainder.Every strangera divisor in an equationalready too tight. Hunger empties the…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The St Malo Sardine Incident(Or: A Feline Foreign Policy) The Old Woman stands at the counter in St. Malo,a case of sardines in lemony oiltucked under her arm,her wallet slightly lighter,her heart slightly french. The shopkeeper smiles.“A good choice, madame. For a special occasion?” She thinks of the cat,not hers, never hers,waiting on the windowsill,tail…
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Ten Things of Thankful
Just back home from a week road trip to Normandy in France. We drove our little electric car, and only once did I growl at Peder about not letting the battery drop below 15%. I love France. Love Normandy. The scenery. The history, that’s so closely tied to England. The food. The Food!! Amazing. So…
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6 May: dVerse Quadrille
Forty-Four Blooming Words a populationof self-seeded daisieson French verges. common,persistent,blooming anyway. no gardener names them,no border holds them;they take what is given. small faces turnto passing cars,white as breath,bright as forgetting, rooted where chancedecidedbeauty isenough. Written for dVerse Poets’ Quadrille: bloom ©Misky 2006-2026.
It's Still Life 