Category: dVerse
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5.04.22 dVerse Quadrille Season
Forgive Me Your Plums In the tight centre offlesh pressing its flesh,a rough skin stone waitsin this small yellow plum.It inspires poetry, it’s cold,straight from the icebox.It’s the season for Post-it notes,for sweet plums whose stonesare tight-wound in its rug. Written for dVerse Poets, Quadrille Monday. Inspired by William Carlos Williams,”This Is Just to Say”…
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dVerse Haibun Monday
A View of the Cherry Tree in Moonlight The cherry tree is kissed by moonlight, it wakes as I sleep, as silver slides between its limbs, as my heart gently knocks against my ribs like uneven stairs. It wakes me from soundlessness and breathing, and even in first hours after midnight, I see moonbeams spread…
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Sidestepping
SIDESTEPPING (poem form: Synchronicity) I can parse a crowd and walk rightthrough it, but now I live in thisvillage with its uneven pavements andnarrow framed walls, and it’s filled withpolite people who deferentiallystep aside, nod with forensicsurvey, and when the cobbles slip intoquiet dusk and low hung street lampsfill the air, and night comes into…
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23.03.22 dVerse Colours
Tea With Florence It wasn’t her real namebut if I had named her,her name would’ve been Florence. Her skin was as paleas proper writing paper.Paper from Florence, undoubtedly. We sat in her garden,the magnolia blossomshanging on a last heavy scent before spring pulledgreen out of its limbs,transforming it into a proper tree. Florence drank mint…
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A dVerse Quadrille
Living In Our Skin Packed lunch and tea.Today it’s spring. These days passfaster than starched clouds, as fast as sea airhowling in its shroud. We feel sharp as papertouched by fresh air. And we bring homeblushed cheeks, seashells,and sand in our shoes. written for dVerse Quadrille “Paper”. Image from Unsplash. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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16.03.22: dVerse Hats
It and I My favourite hat smelled of quiet sun,but it is past tense now. It pains me to saythat a gust caught it on the lake, and it floated off to a nether realm.It and I shall never go picking strawberries in Wexfordnor blackberrying like Sylvia did. For dVerse Poets, Hats. Image is from Flickr Commons, National…
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dVerse Quadrille #147
Her Dark Eyes Her eyes are pure stars,her memories too whole, … of watching ducklingsstruggle after their mother, … of watching oak seedshelicopter aimlessly through air, … of rain floodinga bird’s nest, and they think her madwhen she says this worldwill break your heart. for dVerse Poets, Quadrille #147 “Eye”. Image Portrait Of A Woman With Dark…
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03.03.22 dVerse Ekphrastic Poetry
A Poem Inspired By Joseph Farquharson’s Painting A Slip Against the Wind The sky is whiteas pork fat, the heatherburnt by cold.A mother and three bairninch steps against the wind.March on, their mother says,March until it’s spring.A mother and three bairnare a slip against the wind. for dVerse Poets Ekphrastic March prompt. Featured painting is by Joseph…
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01.03.22 dVerse Haibun Monday
AN ODD AND UNEVEN TIME February was a dark wilderness. Floods and rain, gales that flung trees to the ground sure as they be Icarus. We tidied up after, our hearts were obsessed by reordering the disorderly. And then the wars began, though no one wanted to call it a war. How dark must it…
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16.02.22 dVerse Prosery
Fish Moon New Year’s Eve means cod. Always has. Alway will. So we head for the harbour. The whole family, and a few who aren’t, squeezing into the old Volvo, always bits of Pop’s job in the back. Trowels rough with mortar, buckets, crusty boots, white overalls. Pop’s a bricky. Bricklayer. Muremand. We race down…
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