Category: dVerse
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Double Quadrille (88 Words) for dVerse Poets
Bruegel Narrates Hunters in the Snow Down by the stony roadwhere the trees growsnowy twigs, and the frozencreek babbles in its bafflingstring-like voice, and tinyflickering candles defythe winter gloom from thatchedroof houses, and the north windscrapes an alto low moan from God’s own rudder-spiked mountains that spill chills on the good brothersof the monastery, whereonly…
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A Golden Shovel for dVerse
Under the 500 Spires of Prague It’s the same dream of 500 golden spires, hereby the fast-flowing waters of Bohemia. Areyou and I just vanished reflections off theold Charles bridge? Are we the fallen red tulipsthat are rolled and floating into damp buddedfolds? We stroll the ridge of mortar rot, andfeed stray dogs our bread.…
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dVerse Goes Gothic
An Unscented Rose She stoodon the hillaloneon the cliff’s ridge,seeing only bleaknessin the sunin the sea, bluewashed curtained sky. Gone.Donewhen his carriagewas drawnand broken.His journeyblackened into descent. His onyx-black coffin,a processionwith those unscented roses.Why, too, did theirfragrance escape. Where she once stoodwhere the sun settledinto night’s ruins,where stones throwthemselves from cliffs,where she neversaw the quietof…
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dVerse Quadrille #118
An Old Small Song There’s smokefrom the dying fire in her eyes, it bites deep at her heart,and she sings an old small song. Laughs. Then cries.Old flames never die, she says, and then nods-off into her past years as the inglenook’s firegoes cold. dVerse quadrille #118 “inglenook”. 44-words, sans title. © Misky 2020 Photo…
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dVerse Prosery
It’s Life She pays a woman to tell her fortune. Her future. Says this woman is brilliant. Sees stuff. All done over the telephone. You should talk to her, she’ll tell your future, she says. But I don’t want to know my future. I prefer to roll along like a drunk stumbling over my own…
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for dverse “Synesthesia #2”
On a Lightning Edge with Bob Dylan Somewhere between the sun’sburnt-orb fall and evening’sblackened toll, we saw freedomslip inside midnight’s door. Thunder flashed,purple streaks,shook our windows,and rattled walls. Lightning fingers, violet pearls.We saw night’s dark eyeswild a wolf as ever did fight. Our tongues were brokenwhen freedom flashed.This purple light,how does it feel. How does it…
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dVerse Travels #2
She said, If a Red Fox had Crossed Somewhere, That Area was Safe* No red fox has crossed my path,or blessed this journey, butI’ve crossed the line enough. Hands down, this day isbecoming an argument. I dropped a plate this morning.It broke into angles and pieces.I stared at it far too long. Just stared, and…
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dVerse Poetic Travels
Travelling in the Wilderness You can never read too much into anything.That’s what my granny Nne Nne says.She opens up the newspaper, and pointsher poppy red fingernail at some words. See here, she says, all words need spaces,a buffer for safety, it’s so those conflictingwords don’t bash into each other. And now I’m thinking of…
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Quadrille #117
Out of the Fog Comes the sun.it’s a clutch of warmth,a canopy suspendedover winter’s muscle.the sun abides in cheeks of roses,and on tensiled tailsof a comet.bright as a smile after sex.the horizon isNovember.licked and kickedby the sun. Miz Quickly’s Day 30 and dVerse Quadrille #117 “Abide” © Misky 2020
It's Still Life 