Category: AI Art
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18 October: The Goatherd #13
The Spirit of Goats Sure as rocks roll down hills,the woman felt it split her skull. Feltthe explosive roar.Felt starlightdescend all round her. Heard a herald ring in her ears. This stormof no small power,renegade skies daredmock the Mara. A floodthat hurled trees, breakinginto one another,a cataclysmicconscious crush. Black crows chose for the sky,panicked, go…
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17 October: Flash Fiction (332 words)
Fifteen Minutes on 25 December 1968 (332 words) It’s Christmas. The one when the White Album came out. It was a Christmas gift. I bought it myself. I mean, I like socks and handmade polyester button up jumpers, well in truth, no I don’t, which why I bought my own gift that year. Anyway, it’s…
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17 The Found Poetry Project
Good fortune, and great returns. Eggs and milk,chicken and cheese,butter and everything. I grew seriously ill, but overjoyed. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. (found on pgs 39-41) Wounded by Love, The Life and Wisdom of St Porphyrious, First published…
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16 The Found Poetry Project
I breathed empty airon Mount Athosand freezing wind. I saw children with names,and merciless mothers. They saidan affront that her childshould become a wild boar. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. (found on pgs 36-37) Wounded by Love, The Life…
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15 October: The Letter A
The Letter A I still hear the sound of a spoonagainst the side of a granite pestle. I’m in Mum’s kitchen.I wasn’t raised in this house,so it’s not our kitchen, and she tells me that she’sthe only one of her siblingswhose name doesn’t beginwith the letter M. Madeline,Margaret,Millie, and then of coursethere’s Robert. Mum says…
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15 The Found Poetry Project
SING I decided to leave.Disappear with a dry biscuitand freedom. Stick my head in a nightgale wilderness,and burst by throatin song. Oh god, my secrets. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. (found on pgs 32-34) Wounded by Love, The Life…
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15 October: Seige
A Black Coat tonight’s deep dark is shining tonight is a seeping melancholy it’s pure as the moon is clean bodies fragrant as the garden of edendreams emptied of sleep and death washed she’s at his grave – neither dead nor gone the ripe smell of paradisethe rise and fall of demonswar’s antiquity is overflowing…
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14 October: A Bubble for Tom
This is a bubble for Tom. His post tells all. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.
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14 The Found Poetry Project
Mystery Singing did not stop that evening. I lived amongst stars by heart,eyes open beyond far away. No longerto this earth orthese fragrant flowers. I fell in love with mysteryand its thousands ofsongs beyond number. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial…
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13 October: Flash Fiction
Camping The tent smells like vindaloo, Mum says. Dad’s rented a tent. We’re trying camping before he buys one. In case we hate it. He’s picked a spot located in nowhere, and my little sister is already whining that something’s bit her arm. And her chin. She only stepped out of the car 2-minutes ago.…
It's Still Life 