Category: dVerse
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for dVerse Poets: Haibun Monday
It’s Just Words Someone once said that I was a prolific. As a writer. At the time, I thought it a compliment. Years later, I’m not sure that’s a good thing. Being prolific. It’s like standing in a bucket of your own sweat. Being overcome by noise. Your own noise. So you can’t hear your…
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dVerse Derivatives
It’s That Shade of Brown Again.It’s a rustling of memory. You bring me to this doorway,day after day, into our minutes. My dad, into dreams and dusk, and precise piles of crispy leaves.Our cat, a goat, and fertile land. A forest’s umbrage. Morning frost.Chocolate melting on my fingers. It’s a colour that can …
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dVerse Quadrille #135
The Worst Parts The man she loves is dead,and left her a thorny heart.It’s torture. And so she knits. It numbs. It’s transcendental.Self-medicating. Melancholystitching a repeating groove. Her rhythm never judges –the needles know shedoesn’t want to move on. Written for dVerse Quadrille #135 “groove” . Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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dVerse Oral Poetry
Another Fish Story His only wish that summerwas to catch that fish.Worms on hooks.Flies on lines cast in air.Right from the start he said,I’m smarter than any fish.But it hid in tendril roots,gills breathing, nebulous greenleaves like shade from heaven.His great regret, and he had a…
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31 August dVerse: Back to School
Elementary I’ve become vaguely dubious about the roller blinds in our classroom. My teacher pulls the blinds down every Wednesday at noon, just before the air raid siren blares, and I don’t see how curling into a ball under my lift-top desk with my back to the window helps me survive a nuclear bomb. And our…
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A dVerse Soliloquy Stream of Consciousness
My-My-My My mum lived in a little blue houseat the top of a hill where lodgepole pinesleaned in the wind like a widow’s hump,and there was a creek, raged full when itrained, but the soil sucked it dry by July, (I’m being generous when I say “creek” –it was more like a drainage ditch), and…
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A Korean Kasa for dVerse Poets
Mum Said She said Dad was a dove that flewover her when she walked the beach, and said he often sat in hisfavourite chair, right next to her. Once he even sat on her bed,she said, just as she fell asleep. But Dad didn’t come back for me.But then I don’t believe in ghosts. Written…
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Miz Quickly’s 11 August
Home Is Where You Are, Not Where You Were Home, butno one’s here.Radio’s on, makingnoise like a paint distorted day.We were a busy array back when. All that entering andexiting through the door.Just for a while.Just for forever. Racingin and out of our own tapestry. Where are those wordswe pushed aside.It’s a madness of time,and…
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dVerse Quadrille #133 “Stand”
It’s Black and White She stands on the stairs,her walnut black hair’stwisted and pinned,sinew tight arms, thin,bare and white,a tattoo on the right –a red heart, and Daddy.The one on the leftshe soulfully regrets.And she standson the corner. Written for dVerse Poets “Quadrille #133” 44 words including the word “stand” (sans title). Photo by Trevin Rudy on Unsplash cc:00 no restrictions. Shared…
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dVerse Haibun for August
Against August heat that’s pinpricked into the brick wall, and wings warmed awake and brittle in the sun, bees work within the scent of lilac and lavender as the long days slide sideways. Last scents of summerA sharp edged breath in the treesLast bluing of sky Written for dVerse Poets, Haibun Monday “August”. Main photo is mine, published on Unsplash,…
