Category: dVerse
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A Sestina for Miz Quickly
A Sestina: Rum Dreams The tide revealed more beachthan I’d ever seen. Dark brimmingwaves drinking in sand, and a blackmood of clouds shrouding tearsand chunks of sky. Gusts takingto air our towels. Umbrellas. We two women clamped our knuckled twohands on our straw hats. The beachemptied. Holiday-makers ran, takingshelter in huts roofed with straw brims.A…
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dVerse Views
In This Summer Bright Room This is my room.I am its centre. This is my mother.My father.Their photos framed.They are with meon the windowsill,with my children,and their own children,with this dog and that dogwhose livesenriched mine. The wall behind meis shelved with books.References to this and that,that fiction, and those maps,this ancient history,and that archeology.Volumes…
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dVerse Quadrille #108
How To Bake A Pie In 44 Words While Mum grew salad leaves and cherry tomatoes between the French marigolds, I made sloppy mud pies in an old tin, dotted it with blackberries picked from brambles bushes, mostly those level with my dog’s lifted back leg. I was 8. Mum was older. © Misky 2020 Quadrille #108: 44 words,…
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The Picnic Sonnet
The Picnic She doesn’t usually pack a pork pie to share, or a big wedge of cheddar and soda bread from the bakery, which she will let Jimmy think is homemade, unless he asks, and she wouldn’t usually pack two pickled onions, four gherkins, a large Scotch egg, ripe tomatoes and cucumber, or brown pickle…
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A Moment for a Haibun
I’m watching a grey squirrel who gives me an occasional cautious glance, and it’s shredding the birds table into bits, tossing pieces of wire and mesh around, and then you say, The air smells so fresh this morning, like chlorophyll — and the squirrel is hurling abuse and obscenities at the bird feeder because it’s…
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Quadrille #106
It Casts a Cracked Shadow… …those particles. Misfiring. A drum-drumming and atoms thundering. An alto choir between my ears. Then breath-throb stars in black, and half-flash pulses of chaos. And I want for stillness. Migraine. It pinches my wings, and keeps me from rising to meet the day. Happily, I’ve not suffered…
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for Miz Quickly: 11 June
In the style of “Spoon River Anthology” by Edgar Lee Masters Corinna Rosetti I was born on a breeze – cleaned, polished as bright pink as roses growing fragrant, petals drifting like stars across the sky, and I loved the night. I’d stare out like a moon leaning over the lake. I lived in a house…
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dVerse Prosery
We’re sat opposite each other. She’s drowning milky foam into her coffee. I’m telling her about this poem, has this imperturbable street. She looks up from her coffee. Stares at me. Yeah, imperturbable. What does it mean, she says. I admit I didn’t know either, so I knocked bits off the word, first “im”, then…
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dVerse & Miz Q 04: Vacation
Ferienskifahrer I remember that our ski instructor called us Die ferienskifahrer. Holiday skiers, he said. Didn’t bother disguising the sneer on his lips. Our muscles tore and bits on bones chipped as we fell on the snow. Ferienskifahrer. We, with our legs stuck under desks for 50 weeks of the year. We, conquering the Alps…
It's Still Life 