Category: dVerse
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dVerse Cats
A Fleck of Skin (revised version) I was blinkered-blind. Couldn’t see myself for myself. A body possessed by decades gone. Its narrow shading fled.Its memory swept aside. Those dead flies on a windowsill. But then old photos glimpsed, a reminder of luke-warm tint. I see myself as a fleck of skin. Me sitting,…
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for dVerse & Twiglet #193
A Fleck of Skin It was back when I couldn’tsee myself for myself. That body is long gone,its narrow shading fled, its memory swept awaylike dead flies on a windowsill, And then I’m reminded. I see myself in luke-warm sepia photos. I see myself as a fleck of skin. Me sitting, skeletal, at a table…
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An Ekphrasis Poem
Maakt Niets Uit – (It Does Not Matter) She asks me,what happens when someonesteals your face. Do I become a mirror?Am I more than pious dust,or exotic bric-a-brac? Am I a drip-tray colourto coax froman ancient alchemist’s text? This woman, she doesn’tmind that she’s made of crippled clay,that there’s a hole in her neck. It’s…
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A Haibun for dVerse Poets
A Haibun Poem for dVerse Poets Dust swirled behind the car and I remember thinking, I want a long white lace veil when I get married. I was 14. The road ahead was silent and empty, the woods thickly green rising up from earth’s heart, stumps like elbows and trees tall as time waiting by…
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dVerse 26 Aug 2020
I Kept the Music When I was not quite twelve,I stood in the middleof a green wheat field. And I heard music. I turned my hand flatagainst the breeze as itdrew notes from everythingit touched. Sometimes it was a small voice, ora burst of wild laughter,a nervous chatter. It was background music forwhite clouds chasing…
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dVerse Quadrille #110
Scrawling with Red Ink I’m writing with red ink.Shouldn’t do.It’s bad luck.Bloody ends badly. Look.Each letter slants right, like a drunk with spirits sloshingunder his skill. His keel’slisting. Speaksinsplinteredsyllables. Then falls on his bum ina scrawling scarlet haze. for dVerse Quadrille #110 “Bum” © Misky 2020 Featured image Banksy.
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dVerse Clowning Around
Just Cousins We packed the car so nothing would rattle,that sort of thing set Dad’s teeth on edge,and we headed for our vacation. The lake. The lake, where you and I would go to hidefrom the little ones who wanted to stickto us like ceiling paint, where you’d drink beer, and I drank grape Nehi…
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Prosery: 18 August 2020
Mausoleum Marble My hand is on the oblong flatness of white marble where you sleep. Your death sleep. Your soul’s rest. And I expect the marble to be cold, but it’s not. It’s warm. Though not by the low November sun, perhaps it’s your eternal warmth. I think heaven opened its door when it saw…
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A dVerse Stream of Consciousness
Masking A new face mask arrived in the post today.It wasn’t a surprise – I ordered it online.Took a photo of it with my phone, andsent it to Alison, my next door neighbour. “Cute print!“ she WhatsApped me back. (she’s outside my shielding bubble; wehaven’t hugged in 6 months; we shoutback and forth over the…
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I’m a Speck on the Lake
I’m a Speck on the Lake Adrift on an inner tube that’slarge and black as a serpent’smouth, or a ship afloat on a lake,and I’m watching thunder cloudsgrowing, and blooming white. I’m a continental drift, somewherebetween heaven and its echo. for Twiglet # “Blooming White” and dVerse “Come Sail” © Misky 2020 Image WikiArt Air…
It's Still Life 