Category: dVerse
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for dVerse Prosery #2
Untitled Prosery #2 I dreamt that I was naked inside some blackness of thick night, floating amongst the rarest of silken clouds. I was cream on milk. Quicksilver folded in some ancient language of smoke and waft and alter fire. I drifted with constellations, crossed swords with Orion, and placed myself into every childhood. Blame…
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dVerse Quadrille #83
HERE COMES THE SUN All this white before my eyes, this clear clot above the sky. Heat rolls in, warms the cold bones of morning. It massages its salve in me, a weightless shadowed flicker. Morning believes in its own dreams, and it whispers… Here comes the sun. for dVerse Quadrille #83 “Sun”…
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Once Upon the Fumes of Night
Once Upon the Fumes of Night I belong to a full moon, a face of an angel that rides the tops of trees. Sleek as blond silk. It follows me in peace until the sun comes up, that glaring invisible scar that’s thirsty as salt. ©️ Misky 2019 Inspired by the poem “As I…
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Flash Fiction Prosery
Flash Fiction: Prosery 144 words Dead I am dead. I don’t know the how or the why of it. Or even the when of it. Details. Details. These things are unimportant. That information is in the past, it’s for the living to unravel, they want to know how it happened, they need the science of…
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Double Quadrille #81
A Dragon’s Dream I’m dwarfed by mountains rising from the shore. I’m watched over by the moon. My centre point in the sky. Watch me. I can fly. Milky clouds stretch like a python in the night, and I walk warm shallows of waves that recoil at my touch. I can fly. The sun rises,…
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dVerse Observations
SHELLING PEAS The monotony of midday summer heat flattens my thoughts. Spreads them thin. I take a sip from a tall glass, ice cubes clink and ring like wind chimes. The sky is the colour of Dad’s blue eyes, and I’m not going anywhere today. My back, up against the sun. It’s sticky sweet on…
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dVerse Ghazal
I. IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS THAT STIR A STORM Like those things that make us smile. Like life’s annoyances, too well we know. You hold your finger, crimson bubbling, perhaps, you say, I should slice the tomatoes. I adore cabbage creamed and parsleyed, you want brown gravy and new potatoes. I prefer soft-edges and floppy…
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dVerse Ekphrastic Poem
Seems that While We’re Alive Our holidays include the dead. Visiting parents, gone. Family members, gone. Dutiful. We pay respects. We bring flowers that wilt and die as if mimicking us. We’re highly compostable. My in-laws are resting beside a white-washed stucco church built in the 14th century. They’re buried next to each other, box…
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for dVerse Quadrille #80
There’s a Dead Rat in the Attic so says Carla, the TV-aerial-man, though I swear she’s a man. Says it’s mummified,not recent. Carla-the-man thanks me for the coffee while I tip sugar into eggs. I’m making cake. If I were a violin, I’d crave music; I crave rich, dense cake. for dVerse Poets…
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dVerse Elements
An Elemental Trough My mother filled me with yin, metal from my father. He tasted sweet. I taste sour. Universal soft as a dark shadow. Depressed. Swallowed in a depression, I am the trough of a wave. My mother gave me earth. I feel her in the spring as the cold soil turns. Elemental wood.…
It's Still Life 