Category: AI Art
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8.10: A Cello’s Song
A Cello’s Song (A Ci-style poem to the musical pattern of Shuǐlóngyín) I rise from silence, drawn by the bow,hair on gut, breath against stillness.At first I am nothing —a shiver through empty air,a thread unwinding from dusk. Shadows lean close to listen.Walls tremble; windows remember rain.The candle wavers, then steadies.A single voice holds the…
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7.10: Journal of Thoughts
Credo at Chartres Cathedral I was the pilgrimwhose heart beats in time with the rose window.A woman with a student’s mind—always hungry,always questioning the authority of dust,turning history over in her palmlike a strange, worn coin. A woman with a memory—not just recalling, but re-weaving,feeling the roots beneath the cathedral,hearing the spring’s songthrough the stone.…
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5.10: Journal of Thoughts
Please visit Spira’s blog, read and listen to Act 1 through Act 3 Inspired by Spira’s “The Shape of Absence” They say absence has no shape —but I have felt its geometry:the exact negative spaceof a hand I can no longer hold,the hollow of a voiceforgetting its own tune. It is the silence between wordsnot as…
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5 Oct: Ten Things of Thankful
I am still away in the Rhône Alps, so photos are a minimum. I might make a post for them after I’m back home. You are invited to the Inlinkz link party! Click here to enter https://fresh.inlinkz.com/js/widget/load.js?id=c0efdbe6b4add43dd7ef Welcome to TToT (Ten Things of Thankful) blog hop! Join bloggers from all over the world as we…
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28 Sept: Mystical Sunday
The Jar-Keeper (A Six Sentence Story) She keeps them in mason jars — not the whole eyes, mais non, just their colours. Jar #1: hazel flecked with gold, stolen from a baker who smiled too wide.Jar #2: a pale blue like a winter promise, taken from the gaze of a woman who never blinked at…
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28.09: Au Revoir
Gone to dance On The Bridge of Avignon, drink the Rhône, and eat my bodyweight in cheese — back when the moon pulls the tide of my feet. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.
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27.09: MicroDosing 100µg
The wheat stood like an army of old men, with their backs bent but unbroken, their gold gone dull under the autumn flat sky. A kestrel circled high above — on a breeze that smelled of turned earth and too soon endings. Its cry was a needle pulling a thread of silence through the day.…
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27.09: A Triptych
Triptych: A Secret Music I. Soundboard Low notes pool —amber, deep,soaking the heartwood. High notes fall —shards of lightclinging to ebony. The lid trembles, a held breath.Even silence wears a gloss of oak. II. The Pianist Wrist, a willow branch.Jaw, a carved vow. He listensto the shadowed-note,the echo before the strike. One finger brushes a…
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26.09: An Imagist Poem
Choice (an Imagist Poem) Choice is the mug I didn’t take —the chipped one,her favorite. Choice sits in silence —across the kitchen table,next to the phone I didn’t answer. A single sock on the radiator.The coat still on its hook.The choice not to go. Choice folds itselfinto the napkin I twistedwhile the pasta went cold.…
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26.9: Ten Things of Thankful
I am thankful for the people I’ve loved and who’ve allowed me to be part of their lives. To Carolyn: rest in peace. To Eigil: Always. The flowers in my garden are nearly finished, gone to seed, and shall return in the spring. Until then, I have A.I. to fill my heart with colour. Grapes…
It's Still Life 